Chapter 2 #2
“Oh god—” My back arched, my hips lifting off the bed involuntarily.
His hands gripped my thighs, holding me open, his tongue working me with a skill that had my vision blurring.
He lapped at me like he was starving, his groans vibrating against my clit, his fingers digging into my flesh.
One hand slid up, his thumb finding my entrance, circling the tight ring of muscle before pressing in—just the tip, just enough to make me gasp.
“You’re so tight,” he groaned against my vagina, his breath hot.
“So fucking tight for me.” His thumb sank deeper, stretching me, and I whimpered, my nails raking over his scalp.
His tongue flicked my clit, fast and relentless, his free hand sliding up to roll my nipple between his fingers.
Pleasure coiled low in my belly, tight and aching.
“Please,” I begged, my voice broken. “Kai, please—”
His smile was soft, almost tender, and it made my heart ache. “Tonight, I want to worship you,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to my inner thigh. “My pleasure is yours.”
Then his mouth was back on me, his tongue delving between my folds, his fingers working in slow, deep strokes. He crooked them inside me, finding a spot that made my toes curl, my back bow off the bed. “Right there—right there—” I choked out, my hands flying to his hair, gripping tight.
He growled against me, the vibration sending another wave of pleasure crashing through me. His fingers stretched me, scissoring gently, preparing me, while his tongue lashed my clit in tight, relentless circles. I could feel myself climbing, higher and higher, my body coiling like a spring.
“Ready?” he asked, his voice thick with need.
I nodded, my breath shallow, my skin slick with sweat. He rose over me, his body a dark silhouette against the city lights.
Fear and desire twisted together in my gut, but before I could overthink it, he was kneeling between my thighs again, his hands sliding up my legs.
“Look at me,” he commanded, his voice a dark velvet wrap around my senses.
I obeyed. His gaze burned into mine as he guided himself to my entrance, the thick head of his cock pressing against my slick folds. I tensed, my breath hitching.
"This might hurt." His voice was strained. "Tell me if you need me to stop."
I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him closer. "Don't stop. Please don't stop."
He pushed inside slowly, and the stretch was intense—too much and not enough all at once. I gasped, my fingers digging into his shoulders.
He froze. "Aria—"
"Keep going." My voice was breathless. "Please."
"You okay?"
I nodded, still adjusting to the sensation of him inside me. The initial pain was fading, replaced by something else. Something that made me roll my hips experimentally.
His groan vibrated through both of us. "Don't do that unless you want this to be over very quickly."
“Relax,” he murmured, his thumb brushing my clit in slow, soothing circles. “I’ve got you.”
I nodded, forcing myself to breathe. He pressed forward, slow and careful, his cock breaching me inch by inch. The stretch burned, a sharp, biting pain that made my nails dig into his shoulders. He groaned, his forehead pressing to mine, his breath coming in ragged bursts.
“Fuck, you feel amazing,” he growled, his voice strained. “So tight. So perfect.”
I whimpered, my body resisting even as I wanted him deeper. He paused, his lips finding mine in a slow, deep kiss. “You’re doing so good,” he murmured against my mouth. “Just like that. Let me in, baby.”
I exhaled, forcing my muscles to relax. He pushed forward again, his cock sinking deeper, filling me in a way that made my vision blur.
The pain was still there, but beneath it, something else—something warm, something right.
He bottomed out, his hips flush against mine, and for a moment, we just breathed together, our bodies joined, our hearts pounding in sync.
Then he began to move.
His thrusts were slow at first, shallow, giving me time to adjust. But with each stroke, he went deeper, his cock dragging against something inside me that made my toes curl.
His mouth found my breast, his tongue swirling around my nipple before he sucked it hard, his teeth grazing the sensitive peak.
I cried out, my back arching, my nails raking down his back.
“That’s it,” he groaned, his hips snapping forward. “Take me, Aria. Take all of me.”
I could feel myself unraveling, my body tightening around him, my breath coming in broken gasps. His hand slid between us, his thumb finding my clit again, rubbing in tight, relentless circles. “Cum for me,” he commanded, his voice a dark growl in my ear. “I want to feel you come on my cock.”
His words sent me over the edge. Pleasure crashed through me, white-hot and blinding, my body clenching around him as I screamed his name.
He groaned, his thrusts turning erratic, his cock swelling inside me before he buried himself to the hilt and came with a guttural groan, his release spilling deep inside me.
We collapsed together, a tangle of sweat-slick limbs and ragged breaths. The city lights blurred outside the windows, the world reduced to the steady thump of his heartbeat beneath my ear, the way his fingers traced lazy patterns up and down my spine.
“Again,” he murmured, his voice a dark promise against my hair.
I smiled, my body already humming with anticipation. “Again.”
And we went again and again all night.
The sky was turning purple at the edges when I woke up.
Kai was asleep next to me, one arm thrown across my waist like even unconscious he needed to keep me close. His face was softer in sleep, the sharp edges smoothed out. He looked younger. Almost peaceful.
I stayed very still, just watching him. Memorizing the exact curve of his jaw, the way his dark hair fell across his forehead, the small scar above his left eyebrow I'd traced with my fingers hours ago. Every detail burned itself into my brain because this was all I'd get to keep.
My body ached in ways I'd never experienced. Good aches. The kind that made me hyperaware of every place he'd touched, kissed, claimed. My skin still felt warm where his hands had been, like he'd left marks I couldn't see.
I wanted to stay. God, I wanted to stay so badly it hurt worse than anything physical.
But the sky was getting lighter, and reality was creeping back in with the sunrise. In a few hours, I'd be Aria Romano again. The dutiful daughter. The arranged bride. The girl who had obligations and expectations and a future that had been decided for her before she was born.
And Kai? Kai was my one perfect night. My rebellion. My moment of being someone else.
That's all this could ever be.
Moving slowly, careful not to wake him, I slipped out from under his arm. He shifted slightly, murmuring something I couldn't make out, but didn't wake. I stood there for a moment, naked and shivering, just looking at him.
I wanted to crawl back into bed. Wanted to wake him up and ask him to take me away from everything waiting for me at home. Wanted to pretend this could be more than one night.
But fairy tales didn't exist in my world. Girls like me didn't get happy endings with mysterious strangers. We got arranged marriages and family obligations and lives that were mapped out before we could walk.
I found my clothes scattered across the floor—evidence of how desperately we'd wanted each other. Getting dressed felt like putting armor back on. Each piece of clothing another layer between who I'd been tonight and who I had to be tomorrow.
My dress was wrinkled, the fabric torn slightly where he'd been too impatient to find the zipper. I looked like exactly what I was—a girl who'd spent the night doing things that would horrify her family.
One last look. Just one more.
Kai was still asleep, the sheet pooled low on his hips, his chest rising and falling with steady breaths. Beautiful and dangerous and completely out of reach.
I memorized it. All of it. The rumpled sheets, the half-empty bottle of water on the nightstand, the way morning light was starting to filter through the curtains. This moment, crystallized in amber, perfect and untouchable.
Then I left before I could change my mind.
The drive home should have given me time to process. To prepare myself for the return to reality. Instead, I just felt numb. My body remembered every touch, every kiss, every whispered word. But my mind was already building walls around it, protecting the memory by locking it away.
This was perfect, I told myself. One perfect night. That's more than most people in my world ever got.
The ache between my legs was a reminder with every breath. The tenderness in my lips from his kisses. The slight burn on my neck where his stubble had scraped. I'd carry these marks for days, hidden beneath clothes and makeup, secret proof that I'd been brave for once.
It was enough. It had to be enough.
The sun was fully up by the time I turned onto the road leading to the Romano estate. My eyes were gritty from lack of sleep, my hair was a disaster, and I probably looked exactly like what I was—a girl sneaking home after a night she'd never forget.
But something was wrong.
Too many cars lined the driveway. Black sedans and SUVs, the kind that meant family business. The kind that meant something serious. My stomach dropped.
It was six in the morning. Nobody conducted business at six in the morning unless—
I pressed harder on the gas, my heart suddenly racing for entirely different reasons. The numb feeling evaporated, replaced by cold, creeping dread.
People were everywhere. Men in suits, women crying, and oh god, why was everyone crying?
I abandoned the car in the middle of the driveway and ran. Someone tried to stop me—one of Papa's men, his face gray—but I shoved past him.
"Miss Aria, you shouldn't—"
I wasn't listening. Couldn't hear anything over the roaring in my ears.
The front doors were open. More people inside, all of them turning to look at me with expressions I couldn't read. Pity. Horror. Grief.
And in the main hall, one shape covered with a white sheet.
No.
No no no no no.
My legs stopped working. I stood there in the doorway, frozen, staring at that sheet while my brain tried to reject what my eyes were seeing.
Not real. This wasn't real. I'd walk closer and it would be someone else, some other family's tragedy, not mine, please god not mine—
But I was moving. Stumbling forward on legs that didn't feel attached to my body. Someone was talking—explosion, they were saying, car bomb, got out of the vehicle, walking to the entrance when it went off, the blast, instant, he didn't suffer—but the words didn't mean anything.
I dropped to my knees next to the sheet. My hands were shaking so badly I could barely grip the fabric.
"Miss Aria, please don't—"
I pulled it back.
Papa's face. His eyes were closed but his features were wrong—burns along one side, cuts from the shrapnel, but it was him. Still him. My father who'd promised to help me just hours ago.
The sound that came out of me didn't sound human. Didn't sound like anything I'd ever heard before.
Not Papa. Not him too. I'd just lost Mama a week ago—seven days of grief so raw I could barely function—and now Papa was gone too?
I was alone. Completely, utterly alone.
The screaming wouldn't stop. It was tearing out of my throat in waves, animal sounds of pain and grief and soul-deep agony. My perfect night, my one act of rebellion, and he was dead. Dead while I was—
Arms wrapped around me. Uncle Vincent, pulling me away from the body, from my father, from everything I had left.
"I've got you, Aria. I've got you."
But he didn't. Nobody did. Because I'd been too selfish, too reckless, too desperate for one night of freedom. I'd been with a stranger while my father was being murdered.
First Mama. Now Papa. Both gone within a week.
And I'd been choosing myself while he was dying.
The screaming turned into sobbing, great heaving gasps that shook my whole body. Vincent held me tighter, making soothing sounds that meant nothing.
"When?" My voice was wrecked. "When did it happen?"
"Around midnight. He'd just left the Accardi estate after the meeting. Got out of the car, was walking to the entrance when—" Vincent's voice caught. "The car exploded. The blast threw him. They said it was instant. He didn't suffer."
Midnight. He'd died at midnight. While I was kissing a stranger. While I was in bed with Kai, learning what my body could feel, discovering pleasure for the first time, my father was being blown apart by a car bomb.
Because of me. He'd gone to that meeting because of me. Because I'd asked him to find another way. Because I couldn't just accept my fate like a good daughter.
Mama had died from cancer. That wasn't my fault.
But Papa? Papa's death was on me. He'd been alive yesterday morning. Had listened to me. Had promised to help. Had gone to meet with Don Salvatore to discuss alternatives to my engagement.
And someone had killed him for it.
My one night of freedom had cost him everything.
Had cost me everything.
I buried my face in Vincent's chest and screamed until my voice gave out, until there was nothing left inside me but grief and guilt and the devastating knowledge that I was an orphan now. That both my parents were gone. That I'd killed my father as surely as if I'd planted the bomb myself.