Chapter 19
Lorenzo
Isabella shook through an orgasm. Her fingers were gripping my shirt so tightly I thought she might rip it. Not that I minded. She could tear as many of my shirts as she wanted, so long as she did it while coming on my cock.
She leaned forward, panting, and pressed her face against my neck. “You didn’t finish,” she said into my collar.
I chuckled, and it came out a deep rumble. “You think I’m done with you, dolcezza?” I pressed my lips to the crown of her head. “We haven’t even begun.” I took hold of her hips again. “Bounce on it,” I told her. “Get yourself off again.”
Isabella shook her head, even as she worked herself up and down, taking my cock even more deeply into her pussy. I could feel her dripping. I imagined her leaving a stain on my jeans, and I swear I got even harder inside of her.
“Lorenzo,” she mewled, head tossed back. Her tits bounced as she rode me, and I wanted to see her do this naked.
“Need help to get there again?” I asked, taunting her gently. “Can’t be a good girl and come just like this?”
She shook her head. “Help,” she murmured, eyebrows scrunched together as she tried to bounce harder.
I tightened the grip I had on her, slowing her movements. “No, please,” she moaned pitifully. “I need—”
“I know what you need, dolcezza.” I planted my feet as best I could and thrusted upward, harder and faster than she was able to do on her own. Isabella nearly screamed as her muscles contracted around me, wringing the orgasm out of me with a groan against her hair.
She shivered, eyes closed. “I can feel it.”
“What’s that?”
Her eyes slit open. “You coming in me.”
“You didn’t seem to be complaining when you climbed on top of me.”
“I wasn’t,” she said. “I’m not.” Isabella flushed. “I like being full of you.”
I could not get hard again that fast. I pulled her in so she could lean against my chest, making sure not to pull out. When she wiggled, I gripped her. “Just sit here like this,” I said. “Keep me warm for a minute.”
Isabella shivered, but she settled all the same.
It was an interesting feeling, being inside someone when I wasn’t fully hard, and it was far too intimate, but I held her so she wasn’t looking at my face.
That’s where things went wrong the last time; I spent too much time staring at her and comparing her to Sienna.
Instead, I ran my hand up and down her thigh, and then slid upward so that my palm ran into the scars on her side.
She flinched. “Don’t.”
I ran my hand over it anyway, as gently as I could manage.
“How did this happen?” When she refused to say anything, I took her hand and led it under my shirt, moving her fingers to touch over my multitude of scars.
“All of these happened during fights,” I told her.
I led her to touch the circular wound on my right pec.
“I got shot when I was sixteen and nearly died.” I trailed her hand down to the ropey scar that cut across my abdominals.
“A baseball bat ruptured my spleen, and I had emergency surgery done by a doctor at the casino. He owed my father money and kept me alive, but he wasn’t exactly careful when he stitched me back up. ”
I let go of her hands, and they stilled against my chest, but she didn’t pull them away.
“I was eighteen,” she said, nearly whispering.
Her eyes were incredibly interested in my collarbone.
“Some men broke into my apartment while I was asleep.” She took a breath, and it shuddered back out.
I didn’t have to see her eyes to know they’d be wet with tears.
“They dragged me out of bed to my bathroom and held me down on the floor. I don’t remember much after that except so much pain that I threw up, and then I thought I heard a man praying, but I can’t be sure that was real.
” She pressed herself so firmly against me I thought she might be trying to embed herself in my skin.
For once, that thought didn’t make my stomach cramp.
Instead, I ran a hand over her hip and down her thigh and back.
Not a sexual touch, just a comforting one.
“They left you for dead,” I guessed after a long pause.
“Yeah,” she said. “I nearly did die; they’d nicked my renal artery, and I almost bled out. They told me I coded twice in the ambulance and then once in the operating room. I have no idea how I’m still alive.”
Anger boiled in my guts. “Did they catch who did this to you?”
Isabella made an ugly sound. “Do you mean, did the cops even try to investigate?” she countered. “Because the answer is no either way.”
I bunched my hands in her dress. “They need to die.”
Isabella shook her head. “I don’t even know who ‘they’ are,” she said, soothing her hands up and down my chest. “There’s no point in getting angry about it now. It’s been years at this point; everything is healed.”
Except the way she assumed that no one would ever want her again. Except for the nightmares that plagued her sleep.
No, whoever did this to her would fucking pay. I would make sure of it. “I’ll find them,” I promised her. “I’ll make them hurt.”
She leaned in and pressed her mouth to mine. A soft, barely there kind of kiss. “There’s no need to do that,” she said. “Where would you even begin?”
“You have no idea the kind of things I can find out.”
“You’re wasting your time.” Isabella shuffled up, and I slipped from her body. I helped her back over the consul, and she settled back into her seat. My jeans, as I predicted, were wet from her, and the sight of it was enough to get me going again.
She noticed and giggled. “Take us home now,” she said. “Think about that later.”
I started the car and very carefully pulled out of the alley.
I hadn’t missed the way she called the estate home, but I chose not to comment on it.
The drive back to Scarsdale didn’t seem to take long, but by the time we were pulling in, Amalia was setting the table.
“I need to shower,” Isabella whined when she noticed the time.
We climbed out of the car at the same time. “Go,” I told her. “I’ll make sure she sets some food aside for you.”
Isabella stared at me for a split-second, and then leaned in and kissed me. She then hurried into the house through the kitchen door. I stood there for a moment, and then followed after. Amalia smiled at me when I walked in, so I was back in her good graces for now.
Damian was at the table, putting fried chicken onto his plate. “After dinner, meet me in my office, yeah?” I said as I sat down.
“Sure. The warehouse was just fine.”
“We’ll talk about that later,” I said, waving him off. “You’re going to help me find some information.”
“About what?”
I gave him a brief rundown about what happened to Isabella. Damian frowned. “They nicked her renal artery? Were they going after her kidney?”
It was what I had thought, but it was good that I wasn’t the only one who had come to that conclusion. “I don’t know for sure.”
“But you think they were harvesters?”
I nodded. “We’re going to figure out who they were, and who sent them.”
“And then?” I looked at him, flat and expressionless, and Damian dipped his head in acknowledgment. “Understood.”