Chapter 5
D on’t fuck this up. Don’t embarrass yourself. The reprieve from my own mind is at an end, and it angers me, tainting this experience. Sure, I kind of agree with the sentiment, but the self-loathing accompanying it tampers my desire to a manageable level. It’s enough of a cold splash that I remember to get a condom first. I need to recover some of my wits because lord knows I discarded them somewhere between her breast in my hand and her orgasm on my lips.
“Come back,” she commands, leaning up on an elbow, her hair falling over one shoulder, and I want nothing more than to feel the silky strands run over my fingers before I grip them.
“Condom.” It’s all I can manage, hissing as the cold silicone engulfs my overheated cock.
“Hurry.” It’s almost a pout, and if I were anything other than fucking delirious with want, I might’ve found our rudimentary conversation funny. But all it does is serve as proof of us being beyond words.
“Protecting you.”
Because this cock has been in far too many places and you can’t promise that you’re safe. Not until you get yourself checked out.
The self-hatred starts to spread but then Giuliana lifts up to wrap her hand around the back of my neck. The time for thinking is over. Her fingertips trail down my muscles and I twitch in response to her exploration. Featherlight touch changes to feverish and she drags her hands down my chest and abdomen until they wrap around my girth and position it against the promise of bliss.
Leaning forward, I sink into her as slowly as I can manage—teeth bared against the exquisite agony of our joining.
“You take me so well, gorgeous.” Whispering the praise into the crook of her neck, I fight against surging within her and losing my mind. Giuliana arches in response, impossibly taking me deeper and I’m grateful to be this clear-headed.
Sure, we’ve been drinking, but the food soaked a lot of it up. Time and the cool breeze did the rest. This is the most lucid I’ve been during sex in a while, and holy fuck does it feel better than any other escape I’ve sought out.
Rotating her hips under mine, Giuliana tests the feel of me inside her. I can hold back no longer. Driven by the force of how badly I crave this, I drag against her on the retreat and push back with abandon. It has a bite to it—a frenzy I should try to keep at bay, but I’m beyond it. And Giuliana meets me thrust for thrust.
My hands grip the curves of her hips as I move within her, leverage for my oblivion. The nails she rakes down my back keep me grounded. Moans catch at the back of her throat and spur me on. Giuliana takes what I offer and she enjoys it with relish. So, any regret I may feel for taking my fill—for consuming every shuddered breath and grunt—fades away. I drink from her lips and the sound of her… every whimper and shiver are a taste I’ll never get enough of.
The sharp-edged knife of the high fast approaching builds within me. So close.
But then she stills me in place. Sharp nails dig into the flesh of my ass and her legs hold me locked inside so I can’t move. I pull away from tasting the salt of her neck to stare down in confusion.
A wicked glint in her eyes has taken over—a certain satisfaction in her expression and she looks like a fucking tempest. Fear rises in me, though this time it’s not fear of myself or the darkness in me. This time it’s the promise I see on her face—the knowledge that she intends to ruin me as thoroughly as I’ve tried to ease her.
“My turn,” she promises and plants her foot against the bed to flip us over.
Air whooshes out of me at the delicious feel of her sinking down all the way, her wet heat flush with me. The muscles of my stomach are taut with anticipation. The first undulation of her hips against me has white noise buzzing across my vision, then she leans forward to kiss me.
Her breasts drag against my chest and the friction of her body against my nipples borders on perfectly painful. It’s a slow ride. Torturous. Clearly, she’s not as affected as I am since she has the capacity to pay attention to my breath hitching. Giuliana waits for me to build, listening for the ghost of a moan as an indicator to stop. And then she pauses, stunning chest panting above me, and starts all over again. Each time she delays my pleasure is more tormenting than the last.
Driving me to the edge and then calming, over and over—infuriating. I can’t understand.
“Why?” I ask—beg. Cupping my cheek in her hand, her expression softens. Giuliana strokes the pad of her thumb against my swollen lips and opens her mouth as if she’s going to explain. Instead, she digs her fingers into my pecs and raises up, slamming herself down onto me, and I honest-to-god think I’m going to die.
My cock is so sensitive, but she’s dragged me to and from the edge so many times I fear I’ll never cross it. It’s coiled tight in my insides; my limbs so tense I worry they might seize and never relax. Giuliana fucks me—taking me into her body with fervor. The punishing pace she sets has her breasts bouncing, and her muscles burning, I’m sure. All I can do is hold on, grip the dip of her waist and the strong muscle of her thigh, and pray to a god I don’t believe in for relief from the most agonizing pleasure I’ve ever known. Because it’s too much.
Every nerve ending is on fire. It’s a damn shame I’ve never felt this alive—this in touch with my body—without the help of some kind of substance. And I hate it and I love it. Trembling, I yearn for release; at the same time, I never want it to end.
“Take. What. You. Need.” Voice husky and rough from the moans that have been ripped from her own throat, she commands me.
One of her hands lets go of my chest and she nestles it between her legs. The edges of her knuckles brush against my abdomen as she teases her fingertips against her clit. Head thrown back, her cunt flutters around me. And it unleashes something in me. Gripping her hips, I push into her from below—already planted so deep, every thrust serves to remind me how wholly she’s consumed me.
This time when her breasts bounce, it’s from my fraught rutting. It’s an animalistic demand I can do nothing but acquiesce to. Fingers dancing across her clit, the sounds of our wet flesh meeting and her enjoyment push me to a fever-pitch. My chest feels like it’s being pried open as my heart thunders against my ribs and my muscles burn from the exertion, but I don’t care.
I don’t give a single fuck.
Because she moans my name like I’m her personal savior and then clamps down around me—her moan turning to a ragged scream. My hips jerk once, twice, three times. Teeth bared, thorns of desire rake down my spine like shards of glass. Too much, too much. Too good. Not enough.
I can’t. I want. I… fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Giuliana leans forward, draping herself over my chest as her body trembles. The shiver of her cunt pulsing around me begs me to join her.
“ Yes ,” she whispers into my ear. Licking up the side of my neck and sucking, adding another level of sensation I’m helpless against. I wrap my arms around her back, imprisoning her against my chest and I fuck up into her, over and over.
“ Matteo. Per carità. ” It’s a moan against my neck between drugging kisses, and I lose the battle.
It cleaves into me, this pleasure I have no name for. This release is guttural—beastly.
A cry wrests itself from my throat, drowning and desperate. Giuliana’s fingers tangle in my hair, pulling painfully. I respond by biting the curve where her shoulder meets her neck, something I’ve never done before. My cock releases spurt after spurt, jerking gracelessly into her body.
The voice is quiet. Everything is suspended in this moment of tangled, sweaty limbs, depleted and shaking. We collapse and her grip in my hair turns from punishing to comfort. Giuliana strokes down my twitching muscles and I want to stay buried in her heat forever.
We break apart once our hearts have calmed to a normal rhythm and breathing doesn’t feel like a gasp to fill our lungs. Holding her against my body as our sweat cools with the breeze from the window, my fingertips trail against her soft skin. Goosebumps raise where my touch has been.
We’ve made no promises or said anything about what happens when the sun rises tomorrow. Giuliana made it clear this was a one-time thing—which suits me just fine. Do Italian girls expect nighttime cuddles and a sheepish exit in the morning? I’ve never been sober enough to care before.
Propriety churns in my stomach, foreign, and I feel the need to get out right now. The peace I’ve found with her tonight is replaced with something else in the aftermath of her destruction. Something sinister and greedy. So, once sleep claims her and her body settles into another layer of relaxation, I pull myself away carefully.
Picking up my clothes, I sneak out of the room. The fabric against my skin feels wrong. All of it feels wrong. I shouldn’t be doing this. Giuliana deserves better. Hell, they all did, every woman I’ve done this to.
What a fucking asshole. The inner voice accuses and I agree.
This night has been strange and wonderful. A wicked first date—not that I’ve ever taken anyone out on a real one. There’s never been a need and I’ve never wanted to revisit a night of oblivion with the same woman again. But this is clear-headed. No drunken high dulls my senses and I want to go right back in there to immerse myself in her—lose myself in her body and never resurface.
Sleeping with her once isn’t enough. From the pleasure we shared and the way her wit was sharper than my own, I don’t think a one-time fuck could ever be enough. Giuliana’s thrown my careful, cultivated routine into disarray.
And it’s terrifying.