Chapter 19 Emma
Luca cups my face between his strong hands and kisses me—deeply, hungrily. It’s the kind of kiss that feels like it’s unlocking a door that had been bolted shut in his mind. He pulls me through the room without ever breaking the connection of our mouths, until we fall together onto his bed.
With dizzying precision, he peels the clothes from my body, leaving me bare on his white linen sheets.
Outside, the storm rages. Flashes of lightning spill through the windows, painting his skin in quicksilver.
The wind hammers against the glass, palms bending and thrashing like they’re begging to break free, but none of it feels nearly as overwhelming as Luca’s hands on my breasts, his tongue on my stomach, the weight of him pressing into me.
“Luca…” I whimper when he pulls away to strip. I need him close.
And I need to stop thinking about what we’re doing.
“I’m right here,” he says, crawling back over me and caging me in with his solid arms. “Let me in, Em. I’m yours.”
His kisses are long and sensual. His tongue traces my lips, and I can feel him between my thighs, hard and ready, but he doesn’t rush.
Not like last time. Now, he takes his time, unraveling me piece by piece until I’m teetering on the edge of release—the edge where pride disappears and the only thing I want is to feel him inside me.
His hands know my body like a map he’s memorized, a sea he’s sailed a thousand times.
And I’m waiting—eager—for his command. As always.
“Did you miss me?” he whispers against the center of me. My legs are open, my most vulnerable parts exposed to his gaze.
He’s not really asking me.
Luca dives in—no warning, no prelude. His tongue drags from bottom to top like it’s meant to heal every wound, and my hands claw the sheets, desperate to ground myself.
“Oh, God,” I moan, my body rippling with each lick, each flick of his tongue.
“The only god here is me, Em,” he murmurs against me, his voice vibrating through my core. “Mine’s the name you’ll scream.”
“Then I guess I don’t have to say what I want, do I?” I ask, glancing down. His shoulders look massive, holding me open, and a wicked grin breaks across his face.
He plunges his tongue back into me, this time adding a slow, deliberate finger. The pressure builds until I feel like I’m floating.
“Luca!” I cry out, writhing under his touch. “Right there… don’t stop.”
His eyes are shut, and the moan he lets out is the most erotic sound I’ve ever heard.
Pure. Animal. Lust.
The fever builds. My body erupts in pleasure, and when the wave finally crashes, he rises from between my legs with pride gleaming in his eyes.
He sucks the finger he just had inside me and groans.
“Still so damn sweet… Come here.” He grabs my ankle and pulls me to him. To his center.
A violent crack of thunder splits the sky, so loud the windows shiver in their frames, but all I hear is the storm inside us.
Lightning streaks across his face as he trails a hand up my stomach, studying it like a sacred discovery before kissing every inch of my skin—my belly, my breasts, my throat.
His cock teases at my entrance, but doesn’t push in. Not yet. He’s playing with me, testing my control.
Until I wrap my legs around his waist and dig my heels into his back, I remember how much that drove him wild.
“You’re wicked,” he growls against my neck. “I forgot how much you love teasing me.”
I smile just as he thrusts inside me—and I scream.
His hand grips my ass, the other steady on the bed beside my head. His eyes bore into mine, and every slow, torturous stroke feels like a love letter.
My chest swells with emotion. Some I understand. Some I’m terrified to name. The last time I opened that door, he bolted. I can’t go through that again.
“Don’t go,” he whispers.
“What?”
“Your mind’s spinning. Stay here with me. Be in this moment.” His mouth finds mine, kissing me breathless as his rhythm quickens.
I wrap myself around him, arms, legs, soul. There’s no space between us. Not anymore. It’s like time rewound and picked up where it left off.
"Shit..." he grunts, burying his face in my neck, sucking on my earlobe.
My head tips back. The second he does that; I shatter all over again.
"Give it to me, Em," he demands, his voice rough and already half-lost to the pleasure.
I always listened to Luca’s commands. My body does too. Like a siren’s song, I rise up again.
He thrusts harder. My nails dig into his back. "Em!" he yells, and with one final push, he releases inside me.
My own climax follows, curling around his until we both come down, shaking.
Luca, breathless and undone, stays on top of me for a moment. Then he lifts his head and looks at me.
I want to smile. I want to tell him I missed him every second of every year. I want to tell him I love him.
But instead, I bite my lip and watch.
His eyes, still hungry, scan my face. I brace for panic. For flight. But something’s different. The storm outside softens. And Luca... Luca smiles. He leans down and kisses me—soft, reverent.
I smile back, but say nothing.
"Stop overthinking," he whispers.
"I can’t."
A deep laugh rumbles from his chest. He kisses the tip of my nose and slowly pulls out.
"Come on," he says, offering his hand. "We need a shower."
"Too bad the ocean’s going wild—I’d kill to dive in right now."
"Don’t worry," he says, lacing our fingers. "We’ll have plenty of chances later."