Chapter 17 #2
"It's sucking my finger in." I moved it slowly inside. "Clamping so tight, just like five years ago."
She stayed silent, just panting nonstop.
Fuck.
Looked like she'd been doing just fine these five years.
Anger boiled in me, hot and unrelenting, as I stared at her flushed face, her body betraying every lie her mouth spat.
My cock throbbed hard against my pants, aching, but I ignored it.
No way was I giving in yet. Not until she broke.
I curled my finger inside her, finding that spot that made her gasp, and started thrusting—slow at first, then faster, deeper, my thumb circling her clit in rough, teasing strokes.
She whimpered, hips bucking involuntarily, walls clenching around me like they never wanted to let go.
"You think you can just show up after five years and act like this doesn't affect you?
" I growled low, adding a second finger, stretching her, pumping in and out with deliberate force.
Her juices coated my hand, slick and warm, the wet sounds echoing off the bathroom tiles.
"Look at you, dripping all over my fingers. So fucking needy."
She bit her lip, trying to stifle a moan, but it slipped out anyway—a broken, desperate sound that fueled my rage.
I sped up, curling my fingers harder, hitting that sweet spot over and over, watching her thighs quiver, her knees weaken.
"Come on, Olivia. Let it out. Show me how much you've missed this. "
Her breaths came in ragged gasps, body arching against the mirror, head thrown back.
"Ezio, stop, fuck! I can't..." But her hips ground down on my hand, chasing the friction, betraying her words.
I didn't let up, thrusting deeper, my palm slapping against her soaked folds with each push.
She was close; I could feel it in the way her pussy fluttered, tightening like a vice.
With a final, hard curl of my fingers, she shattered.
A cry tore from her throat, body convulsing, walls pulsing around me as her orgasm hit, juices gushing over my hand in hot waves.
She trembled, nails digging into my arms, riding out the aftershocks while I kept my fingers buried deep, drawing every last tremor from her.
I pulled out slowly, her essence glistening on my skin, and before she could catch her breath, I lifted my hand to her mouth. "Taste yourself," I ordered, voice rough with pent-up fury. "See how wet you are for me."
Her eyes widened, a mix of shock and lingering haze, but she parted her lips hesitantly.
I slid my fingers in, pressing them against her tongue, making her suck.
She gagged slightly at first, then her tongue swirled around them, tasting her own musky sweetness, cheeks hollowing as she obeyed.
The sight made my cock twitch painfully, but I held back, watching her with dark satisfaction.
"Good girl. That's what you taste like when you're desperate for my cock. "
She pulled back, spitting out my fingers, glaring with fire in her eyes. "You bastard. Is that all? Teasing me like some toy?"
"Not done yet." I smirked, anger still simmering, and shifted my hands to her breasts, cupping them roughly.
Her nipples hardened instantly under my thumbs, pebbled and sensitive.
I rolled one between my fingers, pinching just hard enough to make her hiss, then leaned down to take the other in my mouth.
I sucked hard, teeth grazing the tip, tongue flicking relentlessly.
She arched into me, a moan escaping despite herself, hands fisting in my hair.
"Fuck you, Ezio," she gasped, but her body pressed closer, nipples swelling under my assault.
I switched sides, biting down lightly on the other peak, soothing it with my tongue, then pinching both at once, twisting just to hear her cry out.
My free hand roamed her body, tracing her curves, dipping between her thighs to tease her entrance again without entering, keeping her on edge.
She was soaked anew, hips grinding against my hand, seeking more.
"You're such an asshole," she cursed, voice breathy, but her eyes glazed with need. "Why won't you just—god, I hate how you make me feel this way."
I chuckled darkly, nipping at her breast, feeling her shiver.
"Beg for it, Olivia. Tell me you want my cock inside you.
Admit you've been craving this for five years.
" My fingers teased her clit lightly, circling without pressure, driving her wild.
She squirmed, breaths hitching, body on fire under my touch.
I could feel her resistance cracking, desire building until it consumed her.
"Damn you," she muttered, then louder, "fine! Please, Ezio. Fuck me. I need it." Her voice broke on the words, eyes pleading now, all fight gone, replaced by raw hunger.
I'd been holding back too long, my dick straining painfully, pre-cum leaking through my pants.
The second her plea left her lips, I lost it.
I spun her around, shoving her against the mirror, yanking my zipper down and freeing my cock.
It sprang out, rock-hard and throbbing, veins pulsing with need.
Without warning, I slammed into her from behind, burying myself to the hilt in one brutal thrust. She cried out, walls clenching around me like a glove, so tight and wet it nearly undid me right there.
"Fuck, you're still so tight," I growled, pulling back and thrusting in again, hard and deep, setting a punishing rhythm.
My hand came down on her ass, a sharp slap that echoed, leaving a red mark.
"Look at yourself in the mirror, Olivia.
See what a slut you are for me." I spanked her again, harder, as I pounded into her, balls slapping against her skin with each drive.
"Five years, and you're still my little whore, begging for my cock like you can't get enough. "
She moaned, eyes meeting mine in the reflection, face flushed, lips parted in ecstasy.
"Shut up... Oh god, harder!" But her body pushed back, meeting my thrusts, ass jiggling with each smack.
I grabbed her hips, angling deeper, hitting that spot that made her scream.
Another slap to her ass, then another, the sting mixing with pleasure, her skin blooming red under my palm.
"That's right, take it like the dirty girl you are.
You love being fucked like this, don't you? My cum-hungry slut."
The mirror fogged with our breath, her tits bouncing with every powerful thrust, nipples scraping against the cold glass.
I reached around, pinching one hard, rolling it as I drove in relentlessly, feeling her tighten around me, building toward the edge.
"Look at your face. Eyes glazed, mouth open, dripping for me. You're mine, Olivia. Always have been."
She shattered again, a high-pitched cry ripping from her, pussy spasming wildly around my cock, milking me as her orgasm crashed. The sight, the feel—it pushed me over. I groaned, slamming in one last time, spilling deep inside her, hot ropes filling her up as waves of pleasure tore through me.
I collapsed against her shoulder, panting hard, the world spinning.
"Fuck you."
"Already did."
She rolled her eyes, said nothing more. We stayed like that for a long time. Until our breaths evened out.
I pulled out, her legs sliding down from my waist, toes touching the floor, but she wobbled. I steadied her waist, and she didn't shove me off, just hung her head, staring at the puddle on the ground and the white fluid leaking from her.
"Juliet," she finally spoke, voice soft, "is she my daughter?"
The question stabbed like a knife.
"Yeah," I said.
She nodded, gaze fixed on some spot on the floor, silent for ages. Then, "Thanks. You took good care of her."
I stared at her, feeling like a dull blade hacked at my chest.
"She's healthy, cheerful. That's enough."
"Enough?" My voice dropped, trembling a bit, "Six years, she's never seen her mom, never had a mother's love—you call that enough?"
Her lips twitched, no words.
"Yeah, she's healthy, cheerful, but she misses you!" I said, "And you? You ditched her for five years, and now you want to—"
"I know," she cut in, "I know I failed."
The words landed clean, no excuses, no tears, just there.
I stared, lost for words.
"You've got plans already," she went on, "godmother, new mom, I won't butt in. Class over, I'm gone, like nothing happened."
"Bianca's out. She won't be Juliet's mom."
She paused, didn't pry, kept going. "Whoever it is, you've got your setup. Juliet won't lack a mom. Me showing up just complicates shit."
"No one else," I said, "deserves to be Juliet's mom but you."
Her eyes flickered, then shut it down quick.
"Ezio," she sighed, that sigh heavy with exhaustion, like she'd run out of fight, "don't."
"Don't what?"
"Don't say that," she said, "and make me..." She stopped, switched tracks. "You say you never forgot me, say no one's good enough, but so what? Five years ago, you could've said it, but you didn't. You told me to get lost, let that woman move in, you—"
Her voice cracked a little, flattened quickly. "Don't block me with words, Ezio. I don't buy it anymore."
I stared, that fire reigniting in my chest.
"Olivia..."
"Stop." Her voice hardened again. She bent down, hunting for her panties on the floor, "I'll go. Won't mess with you and your daughter's life."
She couldn't find them. Covered her face with a sigh, then like she didn't care, threw on her half-wet shirt and jeans in a rush.
"Thanks," she said, glancing at me, tone back to that polite, distant shit, "great sex. But I gotta go."
My temple throbbed.
Then she headed for the door.
"Contract," I said behind her, "three months. Leave now, breach fee's no joke."
Her hand froze on the knob.
"And," I added, "you gonna vanish from Juliet again? She trusts you now. You gonna make her cry twice?"
Silence stretched for dozens of seconds.
She stood there, hand on the knob, back to me. I watched her shoulders tense subtly, watched her shove something back down.
"I'll honor it," she said, voice a forced calm, "till the classes end."
Door opened, then shut.
Footsteps faded down the hall, front door creaked open and closed below, then nothing.
I stood in the bathroom, listening to the house settle back to quiet.
Looked down.
Then I saw it.
That black lace panties she couldn't find, damp and lying by the tile seam.
I bent, picked it up, pressed it to my nose, inhaled deeply.
Her scent bloomed at my nostrils—vanilla, faint, the warmth from what just happened, way clearer, way realer than the traces on that sweater I'd kept for five years.
I clenched it in my fist, stood, walked to the window, and watched her hurried back.
She thought saying thanks, saying it was good, could tidy this up like nothing happened, then she'd vanish again, leave me hanging once more.
But she was wrong.
Five years ago, I didn't hold on, let that sweater sit in a drawer for five full years.
Midnight dreams, only its scent eased me a bit.
But it wasn't her.
I gripped the thing in my hand tight, watching the cab pull away slowly downstairs.
This time, I won't let you run.
Olivia.
No way in hell.