Chapter 8 #2
A faint frown creased her brow. “And what kind of man is that?”
“One who knows what to do when danger comes calling.”
She studied him, her gaze turning thoughtful. “You said ‘when,’ not ‘if.’”
“When is the only honest answer,” he replied. “People can’t live as sheep.” His grip relaxed just slightly. “They have to be the wolves, or life will swallow them.”
She exhaled, slow and contemplative. “I like that idea… that way, people would get hurt less.”
He flicked a glance at her then—brief, assessing—and something in her expression made his chest tighten. She wasn’t glorifying violence. She was longing for safety. For the power to stop the cycle of fear she’d been trapped in.
After a moment, she said, “You carry a lot, Tonio.”
He said nothing.
But her words struck deeper than she knew. She made him feel the weight of the lives he’d taken. Every flicker of fear or strength in her eyes was a judgment, and choosing to protect her could be a desperate, selfish attempt to balance a scale that could never be clean.
She stretched, slow and unbothered. The sweater she wore rode up, revealing the flat of her stomach and the sensual curves of her hips. Tonio imagined licking over that navel and going lower to her pussy.
“You keep staring like that, I might start blushing like a silly schoolgirl,” she murmured, her voice thick with sleep, laced with a tease. “I can see what you’re thinking.”
Tonio smirked. “Is that so?”
She smiled, slow and sleepy. “Yes.” The air thickened, charged with unsaid things.
Neon glowed ahead—a vacancy sign. He pulled off, tires crunching on gravel. The motel was a tomb: single-story, doors opening to the lot, a sign promising nothing.
Tonio cut the engine. He handed her cash. “Get us a room. Bottom floor, near the exit. You’re less memorable.”
She took the money, arching a brow. “Flattering.”
He chuckled. “We’ll rest for a while and then continue to the cabin.”
Sofia returned minutes later and handed him a single key. “They only had a single bed left.”
Tonio fought a smirk. “That bother you?”
She shot him a glare. “No. But we’ll practically be sleeping on top of each other. It’ll be a tight fit.”
He pocketed the key. “I like tight fits,” he drawled.
She blushed again. He liked it. They grabbed their bags from the trunk, the night air cool and smelling of distant rain. He did a slow, casual scan of the lot—clean. For now. The room reeked of bleach and regret. The carpet stuck to their boots. One small, single bed, center stage.
Sofia dropped her bag. “I’ll take the couch.”
Tonio chuckled, tossing his onto the bed. “Relax, princesa. I’m not that bad to share with.”
She folded her arms. “That’s not the issue.”
He smirked. “Then what is?”
She brushed past him. “I’m going to take a shower.”
She closed the door behind her, and the soft click of the lock echoed through the dim room. A moment later, the shower turned on, its water rushing in a steady stream.
Tonio stood in the half-lit space, the hum of the highway muted behind the motel walls, and let the sound of the shower wrap around him. He shouldn’t have listened. Shouldn’t have let his mind drift.
But he did. Tonio imagined the water sliding over her—first soaking her hair, then rolling down the length of her spine. He pictured droplets gliding over the curve of her breasts, tracing the soft dip of her waist, slipping lower, over hips he wanted to grip, thighs he wanted to coax open.
A low heat coiled through him. He could almost see her tilting her head back beneath the spray, eyes closed, lips parted as steam curled around her skin. Naked. Vulnerable. Soft in all the places he wanted to taste.
He dragged a hand over his face, his jaw clenched.
Dangerous. All of it was dangerous. But the image of her—slick, warm, water running between her thighs—burned behind his eyes, and for several long, punishing minutes, he let himself suffer for wanting her that much.
The water cut off. She stepped out, steam curling around her like smoke, the thin motel towel barely clinging to her slick skin. Their eyes locked across the dim room. No words.
It was Sofia who broke the silence first. The woman from the car—all teasing provocation—was gone. In her place was a raw vulnerability he’d never seen. She clutched the towel tighter, her gaze shattering away from his as a flush of self-consciousness crept up her neck.
“Turn around,” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper.
A beat of silence. Then, without a word, Tonio turned his back, giving her the privacy she’d asked for. He listened to the soft, frantic sounds of her rifling through her bag, the rustle of fabric. When he heard the bathroom door click shut again, he knew she was changing in there.
The spell was broken, leaving only the hum of the highway and the scent of her cheap soap in the air. Tonio exhaled, running a hand through his hair. This was going to be a long night.
When she emerged, she was swallowed by an oversized T-shirt, her damp hair dark on the shoulders. She didn’t look at him as she crossed to the bed, pulling back the comforter on what she’d clearly designated as her territory.
She slid in, her back to him, putting as much distance between them as the mattress would allow.
“Don’t get any ideas,” she said, her voice muffled by the pillow, aiming for defiance but landing somewhere closer to a flustered warning.
Tonio killed the lights and stretched out on top of the covers on his side, boots off but everything else on.
The bedsprings groaned in protest at his weight.
They were so close he could feel the heat of her body.
He listened to her breathing, waiting for it to even out into the deep rhythm of sleep.
He must have drifted off, lulled by exhaustion, because the sound jolted him awake—a choked-off gasp, then a whimper, small and wounded, right beside him.
Tonio was on his elbows in an instant, every sense alert. In the sliver of light from the window, he saw that the pillow was clutched in a white-knuckled grip. “No,” she mumbled, her voice thick with terror. “Please, don’t…”
She jackknifed into a sitting position, a strangled cry tearing from her throat as she scrambled backward, directly into him. Her back pressed against his side, her entire body rigid. Her chest heaved, her wide, unseeing eyes scanning the dark for monsters only she could see.
“Sofia.”
He kept his voice low, calm. She flinched violently at the contact and the sound, scrambling away to the very edge of the bed, pulling the comforter up like a shield. Her breath hitched in ragged sobs.
“I’m fine,” she gasped, the words sharp with defensive fury. “Just a dream. Go back to sleep.”
He didn’t move. He just watched her. “You’re safe,” Tonio said, his voice gravelly with sleep. “I’m right here. The door is locked. The lot is clear. I ensured no one followed us.” He was cataloging facts, building a wall of reality for her to lean against.
She shook her head, wrapping her arms around her knees. A violent tremor ran through her. “You don’t understand. I keep having this ridiculous dream where it’s like I am my mother… and I’m running, and I’m afraid…”
“I get it more than you know.”
Tonio didn’t swing his legs over the side. He didn’t put space between them. Instead, he sat up straighter against the headboard, anchoring her with his presence.
Her breath hitched, fragile and uneven. “I hate that once I fall asleep, the dream will come again.”
“Sofia. You’re safe. Nothing gets to you while I’m breathing.”
The words landed, simple and solid. They didn’t erase the nightmare, but they built a barricade against it. She stared at him, the fight draining out of her, replaced by a raw, exhausted vulnerability. She gave a single, shaky nod.
For a long moment, they sat in the dark, the highway humming its lonely song outside the thin motel walls.
Then slowly, cautiously, she slid back down onto the bed.
She turned her back to him, leaving barely an inch of space between them.
He could feel the faint tremor still running through her body.
He lay down as well, eyes fixed on the curve of her shoulder silhouetted in the dim light. Almost thirty minutes passed. Her breathing stayed too shallow, too alert. She wasn’t sleeping.
“Do you think you’ll sleep at all tonight?” he murmured.
“No,” she whispered.
Tonio thought for a long moment, heat uncoiling low in his gut. Then quietly, firmly, he said:
“Roll onto your back. Push your shirt up. Open your legs for me. Let me see your pussy.”
His voice turned rough, molten. “I’m going to eat you until you come again and again. Then you’ll sleep because your body won’t have the strength to do anything else.”
“Oh God,” she gasped, choking on the sound, her legs squeezing together as if to contain the sudden flood of desire.
“That won’t make it go away,” he growled.
His heart slammed against his ribs when she moved—hesitant but willing—turning onto her back and slowly parting her thighs for him in the dim room.
The sight punched the breath from his lungs.
He hadn’t wanted to take her like this, in a dingy motel, not for their first time. But he could give her this.
He could give her pleasure so consuming that it devoured the nightmares whole.
Tonio shifted down the small bed, braced on his forearms, and pressed a kiss above her knee. Then another, higher. Then another, soft and slow against the tender inside of her thigh.
A shiver rushed through her. A soft, needy whimper escaped.
Anticipation. Sweet fucking anticipation. He slid his mouth to her pussy and gave her one long, deliberate lick. She jolted—almost jackknifing off the bed. Tonio did it again, slower this time, dragging his tongue over her clit before sucking it into his mouth.
Sofia moaned—long, low, helpless—and her thighs fell wide open, offering herself without thought.
He devoured her in soft licks and sharp pressure, sucking and teasing, holding her under the lash of his tongue until she writhed beneath him, fingers clutching the sheets, breath breaking apart in desperate little sounds.
“Tonio,” she gasped, arching up, grinding her pussy onto his mouth as if she needed him deeper.
He gripped her hips and gave her exactly what she needed.
Tonio held her hips down, licking her with slow, devastating precision—each stroke of his tongue deliberate, each suction around her clit designed to tear another sound from her throat.
She trembled beneath him, fingers sliding into his hair and curling tight as if anchoring herself to the world.
“Tonio—please—” she breathed, her voice already wrecked.
He didn’t answer. He devoured her. His tongue circled her clit, then pressed harder, and when she cried out, he slipped two fingers inside her—slow, deep, unforgiving. Sofia shattered. She was so damn tight he could barely move his fingers despite her wetness.
Her body bowed off the bed, thighs quivering, a raw moan ripping from her. Her orgasm pulsed around his fingers, clenching so tightly he growled against her pussy. But he didn’t stop. He didn’t even slow down. Before she could come down from the high, he sucked her clit into his mouth again.
She whimpered—helpless, overstimulated, desperate—and dragged his hair harder than she possibly meant to, but Tonio only groaned.
“You’re—oh God—Tonio—wait—” she begged, hips twisting.
“No,” he murmured against her, his voice dark velvet. “You’re giving me another one.”
He thrust his fingers deeper, curling them just right—
And she broke apart again. This time, she cried out his name, body shaking violently as pleasure crashed over her in hot, blinding waves.
Her fingers sank deeper into his hair, holding on for dear life as he licked her through the orgasm, savoring every shudder, every gasp, every wild clutch of her thighs.
But he still wasn’t finished.
Her legs were falling open and closed, unable to choose a position, her breath ragged and chest rising fast. Sweat dampened her temples.
“No more—” she whispered, sounding wrecked.
“You can,” he said, easing his fingers out only to replace them with his tongue. “And you will.”
He flattened his tongue against her clit, stroking it in slow, lazy flicks that had her sobbing into the darkness—soft, broken sounds of ecstasy—and pulling at his hair with frantic need.
Her third orgasm bloomed slowly, unstoppable, building and building until her entire body went taut.
Tonio felt the exact moment it overtook her—her hips jerked helplessly, her thighs clamped around his head, and she let out a shattered cry that wasn’t words, just raw pleasure.
He held her through all of it, licking her until she was trembling and limp and whispering his name like a confession.
Only then did he slow, trailing soft, soothing kisses along her inner thighs, easing her back into herself.
Sofia collapsed against the mattress, her chest rising in shallow, dazed breaths.
Her fingers remained tangled in his hair, weak and loose now, as if she couldn’t gather the strength to let go.
Tonio lifted his head and looked at her.
She was wrecked. Beautifully, utterly wrecked.
Limp from exhaustion, flushed from release, glowing from the inside out.
A dangerous satisfaction curled deep in his gut.
Sofia yawned, soft and unguarded, and he shifted immediately, giving her room to turn onto her side.
She curled into him without hesitation, tucking her face against his chest as if she belonged there.
Tonio wrapped an arm around her, holding her close, and a strange contentment settled in his ribs—something he’d never felt before because he was holding her while she drifted into sleep.
Within two minutes, her breathing deepened. He absorbed the rise and fall of her chest, let the steady rhythm ease the tension in his shoulders, let himself sink into the quiet alongside her.
Then his phone buzzed. Tonio went instantly alert, every muscle tightening; the softness in him burned away in a heartbeat.
Luc: Tail confirmed. You’ve got a few hours. Net closes in six.
Tonio stared at the screen, his jaw tightening.
Six hours. Not much—but enough. He set the alarm, flipped the phone facedown, and slid the gun under the pillow, the metal cold against his fingertips. Lying on his back, he watched the ceiling in the dim room, every sense still tuned to danger even as exhaustion dragged at him.
In three hours, they would be up and running until they reached the cabin.