Chapter 15 #3
We head toward the VIP area. The air changes here. It's quieter, thicker, the sound of the crowd below muted. The lighting is softer, the space more secluded.
I keep her close, the rush of adrenaline still in my veins, the memory of every moment in that room still sharp in my mind.
We step into a private lounge, the space intimate, all deep reds and soft shadows. A low couch sits against one wall, flanked by a bar cart gleaming with crystal decanters. The door closes behind us, sealing out the world, and for the first time since we left the car, I let myself breathe.
My suit is a mess. Blood is splattered across the cuffs, a smear of it on my shirt where I wiped my knuckles. The sight of it doesn’t bother me, but I glance at Liliana, searching her face for any sign of fear, any trace of the horror she might feel after witnessing what I did.
I expect her to be shaken, her eyes wide with the kind of quiet panic that comes from seeing a man die. But when her gaze meets mine, it’s steady, unflinching, a soft fire burning in the depths of her eyes that catches me off guard.
She’s not afraid. She’s not recoiling. If anything, she looks at me like she sees me, all of me, and still chooses to stay. Her hands lift, moving with that graceful precision I’ve come to love, her fingers shaping a question in the air between us. Are you okay?
The signs are deliberate, her eyes searching mine, and there’s a tenderness there that makes my chest tighten, a warmth that threatens to unravel the control I’m clinging to.
I nod, my hands answering before my voice can. I’m fine, cara. Are you? My movements are steady, but my pulse is anything but.
The blood on my shirt, the ache in my knuckles, the memory of that bastard’s words, his vile disrespect. It burns in my mind.
I search her face as she nods, her hands lifting with that graceful precision I love, signing with calm certainty. It’s fine. Her fingers shape the words without hesitation.
My chest tightens, a knot of something fierce and tender twisting inside me. I sign back, my hands moving slowly, deliberately, each motion heavy with truth and fury I still feel. I’m sorry for what that bastard said. For his disrespect. I never want anything to hurt you.
My gaze holds hers, willing her to feel the vow in my words, the promise that I’d burn the world down before I let anyone touch her with cruelty again.
Her eyes soften, a faint smile curving her lips, and she signs again, quick and sure.
It’s fine. You protected me. The words hit me like a shot, unraveling the last thread of restraint I’m clinging to.
She’s not afraid. She’s not pulling away.
She’s choosing me, blood and all, and the realization ignites a desire so hot it consumes me.
She’s so beautiful it hurts, every curve of her body is a quiet demand I can’t ignore.
The adrenaline from the fight, the pride I felt watching her hold her own, the raw need that’s been simmering since I first touched her tonight—it all crashes together, a wave of desire so hot it burns through every shred of restraint.
But before I give in to the insanity to claim her, I say, “You should be afraid,” I say, my voice raw, gravelly. “And you’re not. That’s dangerous, Liliana.”
She looks into my eyes, her eyes never wavering as she signs, I'm not afraid of you, Giovanni. Never have. Never will.
I close the distance between us, my hands finding her waist, fingers curling into the soft fabric of her dress. Her breath catches, a small sound that sends a jolt straight to my groin, and I pull her against me, her body warm and pliant under my touch.
My lips brush her ear, my voice low and rough. “You aren’t scared.” It’s not a question, but a realization, a confirmation of what she admitted, and it makes the heat in my blood flare brighter.
She shakes her head, her hands resting on my chest, fingers brushing the bloodstained fabric without hesitation. That small gesture, her acceptance of the violence that clings to me. The dam breaks inside me.
I want her. Now. Here. With nothing held back.
My mouth crashes into hers, the kiss fierce and hungry, my tongue sweeping past her lips to taste the sweetness of her. She meets me with the same urgency, her fingers digging into my shoulders, pulling me closer like she’s just as desperate.
I groan, the sound rumbling in my chest as I press her back toward the couch, my hands roaming her hips, her waist, the curve of her ass. The dress clings to her like a second skin, and I want it gone. I want nothing between us but heat and need.
My fingers find the zipper at her back, tugging it down with a sharp pull, and the fabric loosens, sliding off her shoulders to pool at her feet.
She’s left in black lace, her breasts full and straining, her nipples visible through the thin fabric, and the sight of her makes my cock throb, hard and aching against the confines of my trousers.
I step back just enough to look at her, my breath ragged, my eyes raking over every inch of her body. She’s a vision, her skin flushed, her beautiful hair spilling over her shoulders, her eyes dark with want.
I unbutton my shirt, the bloodstained fabric falling open, and her gaze drops to my chest, lingering on my tattoo. Her fingers twitch, like she wants to touch it, but I don’t give her the chance.
I shrug the shirt off, letting it fall to the floor, and kick off my shoes, my trousers following until I’m bare, my cock jutting out, thick and heavy, the tip already slick with need. Her eyes widen, but not with fear, with hunger, a mirror to the fire burning in me.
I move toward her, my hands cupping her face as I kiss her again, slower this time. I savor the way her lips yield to mine, the way her tongue dances against my own.
She moans, a soft, throaty sound that makes my blood roar, and I guide her down onto the couch, her back sinking into the plush leather. My hands slide to her bra, unhooking it with a flick, and her breasts spill free, full and perfect, her nipples tight and begging for my mouth.
I lean down, sucking one into my mouth, my tongue swirling around the sensitive peak, and she arches beneath me, her fingers tangling in my hair, pulling hard.
The sharp sting sends a pulse of heat through me, and I graze my teeth over her nipple, just enough to make her gasp, her hips bucking against me.
My hand slides down her stomach, fingers hooking into the lace of her panties, and I tug them off, tossing them aside.
She’s bare now, her pussy glistening, slick with want, and the sight of her makes my mouth water. I kneel between her thighs, spreading them wide, my hands firm on her hips as I lean in, my breath hot against her skin.
I lick a slow path up her center, tasting her, and she moans, her hips jerking under my mouth.
She’s sweet, intoxicating, and I bury my face in her, my tongue circling her clit, sucking gently, then harder.
Her hands fist in my hair, pulling me closer, and I groan against her, the vibration making her tremble.
I slide a finger inside her, then two, feeling her tightness, her warmth, curling them to hit that spot that makes her shake. She’s so wet, her juices coating my fingers, dripping down my hand, and I’m losing my mind, my cock throbbing with the need to be inside her.
I kneel between her thighs, spreading them wide, my hands gripping her hips as I lower my mouth to her pussy, her slick folds glistening with need. I thrust my tongue into her tight, wet heat, fucking her with deep, relentless strokes, her juices flooding my mouth, coating my chin.
She moans, her hips bucking, hands fisting my hair as I suck her clit, then plunge my tongue back inside, curling against her pulsing walls.
The wet, filthy sounds fill the room, her thighs trembling as she grinds against me, chasing the edge.
I pull back, lips slick, and climb over her.
I kiss her hard. I let her taste herself as her nails scrape my back, igniting fire in my blood.
I rise to position myself at her entrance. My cock brushes her slick folds, and she arches, her thighs parting wider, inviting me in. The sight of her, bare and glistening, her pussy wet and ready, sends a jolt of heat through me. My balls tighten with need.
Her eyes are dark, locked on mine, and there’s a hunger there that matches the fire in my blood. I don’t wait. I thrust into her, deep and hard, filling her in one smooth stroke. She cries out brokenly, her voice raw, her walls clenching around me like a glove, hot and impossibly tight.
The sensation hits me like a shockwave. Her warmth grips my cock, pulling me deeper, and I groan, my hands digging into her hips, anchoring her to me as I fight the urge to lose myself completely.
Her pussy is slick, dripping, coating me with every inch I claim, and I start to move, slowly at first, each thrust deliberate, dragging against her walls, savoring the way she pulses around me.
Her breasts bounce with each motion. They are full and heavy, her nipples tight and red from my mouth. The sight drives me wild as my cock throbs inside her. She moans, a throaty, desperate sound, her hands clawing at my shoulders, nails biting into my skin.
I lean down, my lips finding her neck, sucking hard, tasting the salt of her sweat as I thrust deeper, hitting that spot that makes her gasp, her hips bucking to meet me.
I pick up the pace, my hips slamming into hers, the wet slap of our bodies filling the room. It's not gentle, not tender. It's obscene, it's filthy.
Her pussy is so tight, so fucking perfect, gripping me with every stroke, and I’m growling, my control fraying as the pleasure builds.
I grab her thighs, lifting them higher, spreading her wider, and she moans louder, her legs wrapping around my waist, pulling me deeper.
Her pussy is slick, her juices dripping down my cock, coating my balls.
The sensation is overwhelming, driving me to thrust harder, faster, each movement jarring her body against the leather couch.