Chapter 24 Elio
ELIO
Idon’t sleep. Can’t sleep. Not with Violet in my arms. Not with her head on my chest, auburn hair spilling across my skin like dried blood in the moonlight. Not with her breath warm and steady against my heartbeat, her body curved into mine like she was made to fit there.
She chose me. I still can’t believe it.
She chose me.
We didn’t do anything but kiss and talk. For hours. Until her lips were swollen and her eyes heavy and she curled into me like a cat seeking warmth. Until she fell asleep mid-sentence, something about cathedrals and broken things, her voice trailing off into soft breathing.
I held her.
Just held her.
My cock has been hard since sometime around one in the morning, pressing painfully against my trousers, but I haven’t moved. Haven’t shifted. Haven’t done anything that might wake her, might break whatever spell that made her walk through my door and claim me as hers.
My monster.
The words echo in the dark places inside me. Places I thought were dead. Places I killed a long time ago because feeling things got people hurt.
Dawn creeps through the windows now. Gold and rose bleeding across the Mediterranean, painting the ceiling in colors I’ve never bothered to notice before. The room looks different with her in it. Softer. Less like a mausoleum and more like somewhere a person might actually live.
She stirs.
My whole body goes rigid. Heart hammering in my chest like I’m seventeen again, like I haven’t fucked more women than I can count, like I haven’t made an art form out of taking what I want.
But this is different.
She is different.
Violet stretches against me, a small sound escaping her throat. Her thigh slides across mine, and I feel the exact moment she registers my erection pressing against her hip.
She doesn’t pull away.
My breath catches.
Her eyes open. Green-gray in the morning light, storm deciding whether to break. She blinks up at me, confusion flickering across her features before memory floods in. I watch her remember. Watch the uncertainty chase itself across her face.
And then she smiles.
Not the sharp, defensive smile she uses as a weapon. A softer one. Almost shy. Her fingers trace down my chest, over my stomach, making my muscles clench involuntarily under her touch.
“Morning.” Her voice is rough with sleep.
“Morning.” Mine is rougher.
Her hand keeps moving. Down. Over the ridges of my abdomen, the cut of my hip, until her fingers brush against my cock through the fabric of my trousers.
I stop breathing.
Her eyes lock on mine. Watching. Waiting. But her hand doesn’t stop.
My chest cracks wide open for her. I catch her wrist before she can go further. Bring her palm to my mouth. Press a kiss to the center of it, right where her calluses roughen the skin. She shivers.
“Only if it’s what you want.” The words come out hoarse. “Only if you’re sure.”
She licks her lips. Frees her hand from my grip. And then her fingers wrap around my cock through the fabric, stroking deliberately, and the sound that escapes me is not remotely dignified.
“Does that answer your question?”
Fuck.
I flip her onto her back before I can think about it. Her eyes go wide, but there’s no fear in them. Just heat. Just want. Just her looking at me like I’m something she’s chosen rather than something she’s trapped by.
“You have no idea.” I brace myself over her, forearms on either side of her head. “What you do to me.”
“Then show me.”
I shudder at her words. There’s nothing more I want to do than show her exactly how she affects me.
I lean down, pressing my mouth to the flutter of her pulse to feel it race beneath my lips. Make sure this is real. She arches into me as I trace my tongue along the column of her throat, tasting sleep and salt.
Her hands find my hair. Grip. Pull.
I take my time.
Weeks of watching her. Months of wanting her.
I’ve worshipped every inch of her body in my imagination, but the reality is so much better.
So much more. The silk nightgown slides off her shoulder, and I follow its path with my mouth.
Collarbone. The curve where neck meets shoulder. The hollow of her throat.
“Elio—”
“Shh.” I pull back just enough to work the nightgown down her body. Slowly. Revealing her inch by inch, like unwrapping something precious. Something sacred. “Let me.”
The fabric pools at her waist. Her breasts bare to the morning light.
Mine.
The word pulses through me with every heartbeat. Mine, mine, mine.
I lower my mouth to her nipple, tongue circling until her breath stutters and her body decides for her, her spine lifting before she knows she’s moving. Her fingers tighten in my hair.
“God—”
I suck, harder than I should, leaving my mark on her skin the way she’s left her mark on everything I thought I was.
Then I move to her other breast. I take my time with it, alternating between them until she’s writhing beneath me, her hips rolling up against nothing, looking for something I’m not ready to give her yet.
I work my way down.
Kiss by kiss. Stomach trembling under my mouth. The piercing in her navel catching the light. I trace my tongue around the little stud, and she makes a sound that goes straight to my cock.
“Please—”
“Please what?” I look up at her from between her thighs. Her face is flushed, lips parted, eyes glazed. Beautiful. Wanting. “Tell me what you want.”
“You know what I want.”
“I want to hear you say it.”
She groans. Frustrated. Desperate. “Your mouth.”
“Where?”
“Elio.”
I kiss her hip bone. “Where, Violet?”
“Between my—” She breaks off, cheeks flushing darker. “You know.”
I do know. But I want the words. Want her to own this, to claim it the way she claimed me.
“Say it.”
Her eyes meet mine. That spine of steel I’ve been watching for weeks, that refusal to break no matter what I threw at her, shining through.
“I want your mouth on my pussy.” Clear. Unflinching. “Now.”
Fuck, yes.
I pull the nightgown the rest of the way off. Spread her thighs wide. And I look.
She’s wet. Glistening in the golden light, swollen and pink and perfect. The scent of her arousal hits me like a drug, and my mouth waters. Last time I didn’t get to savor it, I was making a point. This time I’ll take my fill.
“Beautiful.” The word falls out without permission.
“Elio—”
I lower my mouth.
The first taste of her destroys something fundamental in my brain. Musky and sweet and so fucking good I have to press my hips into the mattress to keep from rutting like an animal. Somehow this feels different to when I pleasured her in the restaurant. More important. More. Just more.
I lick her in slow circles. Around her clit, not touching it directly. Teasing. Building. Her thighs tremble on either side of my head, her hands fisting the sheets.
“Fuck—”
I spread her open with my fingers, exposing the tight bud of her clit to the cool air before dragging my tongue flat across it. Her whole body jerks.
“Oh, god—”
Again. Slower this time. Mapping every fold, every ridge, learning exactly what makes her gasp and what makes her moan. I suck her clit into my mouth, and she cries out, hips bucking up against my face.
I pin her down with one arm across her stomach.
Not yet.
I want this to last. Want to take her apart piece by piece, the way I’ve been taking her apart for weeks. But this time she asked for it. This time she chose it.
I fuck her with my tongue. Thrusting into her entrance while my nose rubs against her clit. She’s so wet the sounds are obscene. Slick and messy and perfect. I use my fingers to spread her wider, to open her up, and I devour her like I’m starving.
“Elio—I can’t—I’m going to—”
Her thighs clamp around my head. Her hands find my hair, gripping hard enough to hurt. And I feel it—the moment before she breaks. The trembling tension in her body, the way her walls flutter against my tongue.
I suck her clit. Hard.
She shatters.
My name rips out of her throat as she comes, back arching, whole body shuddering. I don’t stop. Keep licking, keep sucking, working her through it as she pulses against my mouth. The taste of her orgasm floods my tongue, and I groan into her flesh, the vibration making her cry out again.
When she finally stills, trembling and gasping, I kiss my way back up her body. Press my mouth to hers, letting her taste herself on my lips.
“Good girl,” I murmur against her mouth.
She laughs. Breathless. Wrecked. “That’s—god, that’s—”
“One.”
Her eyes widen. “One?”
I smile. Not the polite mask I wear in public. Much darker. It makes her breath catch in her throat.
“One.”
She pushes me back.
Not hard. I could resist if I wanted to. But I don’t want to. Not when she’s looking at me like that, all determination and hunger and a look that screams of possession.
I let her press me into the mattress. Let her straddle my thighs, all naked, her bare skin sliding against the fabric of my trousers.
“My turn.” Her voice is steady now. The trembling aftershocks fading into something more focused.
She reaches for my waistband.
My hand covers hers. “You don’t have to—”
“I know I don’t have to.” She meets my eyes. Unflinching. “I want to.”
Christ.
How many women have touched me? Dozens. Maybe more. And every single time it was transactional. They wanted something from me—power, money, protection. Or they were afraid of what would happen if they said no.
No one has ever just wanted me.
Not the empire. Not the violence. Not what I could give them.
Just me.
I let go of her hand.
She slides my pants down. Frees my cock from the fabric, and her eyes widen. Not fear. I’d stop if I saw fear. Just... surprise. And then hunger. My cock twitches in her grip.
“Fuck.” The word comes out breathless. “You’re huge.”
“We can take this slow.” My voice is strained. Every muscle in my body locked down with the effort of not moving. “Whatever you want. However you want it.”
She looks up at me. And then she strokes.