Chapter Twenty-Nine #2
“It’s … outstanding … wow … what’s the name? Where’d you get it?” His voice came out raspy as he dropped the empty beer bottle.
“I’m never telling you that … God, it’s fucked up; I feel like shit.”
“I don’t.” He released a breath, dropping his head on the stone chair with an open-mouthed sigh before he looked up at the sky. “I feel so light. The stars are dancing; it’s beautiful.”
I groaned, allowing the pill to take effect by wiping off my annoyance.
“The moon is so large; I think it’s smiling. Can you see it?” he asked.
I looked up to see the moon grow large, a soft smile curving at the bottom. It also had eyes that looked down at us with a calmness that made me sigh.
“Yeah, I see it.”
And then … it was silent.
A comfortable one that I didn’t feel like breaking, and I don’t know how long we sat there for, but it felt like minutes. Long minutes.
I felt the air grow colder, felt our surroundings grow quieter, as though everyone had gone to sleep, and we were the only two people awake.
“I finally figured it out,” Elio voiced after a while.
“What?”
“Why I talk a lot when I’m around you.”
I turned my body to the left so that I was facing him, and my side rested on the chair. My movement, though, felt sluggish. “Yeah? Why’s that?”
“We’re alike,” he said. “In many ways. And I’m talkative. I like talking.”
“I figured that one out,” I said with a chuckle, and I realized we were closer than before; I could smell him now.
He had this distinct smell of sweet vanilla spice rum, I guess from his cigars, and then there was a whiff of expensive cologne with a hint of orange blossom, and …
there was something else … Was it lilies?
God, he just smelled terrific, or maybe it was the pill.
“You like talking too,” he said. “You talk a lot, and it makes me want to respond. I shouldn’t respond because I’m supposed to be a man of few words.”
“You are very good at pretending you are.”
“I know. I’ve been doing it my whole life. I like it sometimes … just being quiet.”
“Me too,” I said, wondering what the point of this conversation was. I didn’t really care.
“I like talking to you,” he confessed. “I like that you annoy me.” His voice came with a hint of a slur.
The faint flutter attacked. “With my screechy voice, as you call it?”
“Okay, maybe it isn’t all that screechy, just slightly screechy.”
“Right, got it.”
“Hm. I want you dead too. Preferably when you’re talking, I’d like to slit your throat and watch you choke on your blood,” he said. “It’s one of my fantasies too.”
I laughed instead of being wary of his confession. It was funny, and the pill made it funnier.
“You hate me that much?”
“Hm.”
I watched him for a long time, for some reason, wishing he would look at me.
“Why aren’t you like—married? You’re old enough,” I said.
“So are you.”
“I still have time, but you’re like … twenty-eight—twenty-nine? Or…”
“Fishing for my age, Sport?”
“Curious.”
“I’m thirty-three.”
I jerked up, watching him with wide eyes. “No way, you look younger.”
He turned to look at me. “I don’t know if you know this, but thirty-three isn’t old.”
“Yeah, I know, but—like, I’m just surprised. You’re so handsome and young and hot.”
He looked away, his body shifting uncomfortably.
“Okay, so, still prying … why don’t you have a girlfriend?”
He shrugged. “I do not know.”
“Have you ever had a girlfriend?”
“No.”
“How often do you have sex, then?”
He sucked in a breath. “You have no filter.”
“I blame it on the drugs,” I said, allowing my tone to grow sensual as I asked, “So … how often?”
I welcomed the heat from his body and how we’d drawn closer to each other. The lightness in my head turned heady, and I leaned into that heat.
“Not often.” His voice was hoarse.
The pace at which my heart thumped had doubled, but I still pushed. “When was the last time?”
He stopped to think. “A year and a half … maybe more.”
“Dude, that’s—that’s ballsy.”
“Intimacy is sacred for me,” he said.
“Is that so…?” I said softly, raising my hand to trace my index finger down his forearm.
He turned his head to me again, his gaze falling on my hand on his arm while his muscles grew tense under my touch.
“So, like,” I continued, “you like every woman you fuck?”
He raised his gaze, and our eyes locked. The tip of his pink tongue ran over his bottom lip, and I had the strongest urge to kiss him.
Yes. I’m horny as fuck right now. Pill’s doing a good job.
“Hm, yes,” he responded. “But I don’t necessarily like them; I have to like something about them before I get intimate with them. And it’s always a one-time thing. Because of my at—”
“Attachment issues. When was your first time?”
“Seventeen … yours?”
“Same.” He knew that was a lie but didn’t care enough to call my bluff. “First kiss?”
His eyes searched mine before he swallowed and said, “I don’t have one.”
I won’t deny it; that caught me by surprise. “That’s a lie.”
“I have no reason to lie.”
“But you’ve been with women—”
“You can be intimate with someone without kissing them, Zahra.”
“And they don’t get offended?”
“I don’t think they realize it. They’re always pretty distracted with other parts of me.”
My lips curled, and my hand moved from his arm to his thigh. He tensed up even more at my touch, but he didn’t ask me to stop, and I didn’t. “Would you like to kiss me, Elio?” I asked, breathing through my slightly parted lips, my anticipation growing.
“It’s too intimate,” he said.
“Well, would you like to fuck me then?”
His pupils grew large, lust covering the dark, somber sense his eyes had carried earlier, and I fucking lived for it.
“Absolutely fucking not,” he answered.
My gaze flickered to his crotch, spotting his hard-on. “Yeah, but you’re so hard it looks painful,” I said, pressing my thighs together to ease the fervent need between them.
“That’s normal. I’m intoxicated from a pill that gets me high and horny, you’re touching my thigh, and we’re talking about sex. I’m bound to be aroused.”
I noticed the change in his breathing, the way he couldn’t keep his gaze from falling to my mouth.
I removed my hand from his thigh and slid Dog’s jacket off me, arching my back a little. The action had his eyes dropping to my chest, and I was positive he was looking at the outline of my pierced nipples.
What the fuck am I doing?
Blame it on the drugs.
I watched Elio swallow before tentatively raising his gaze to lock with mine. “Zahra—”
I moved. Rose from my position, and straddled his thighs, angling the heat between my legs over his erection.
A shivering breath left me when I settled my hands on his shoulders and pressed my throbbing clit against his arousal, the fabric of my panties and his pants the only thing stopping skin-to-skin contact.
“Fuck,” Elio breathed out, voice edgy and hoarse, and I felt myself grow wetter at the sound.
Our gazes locked, and Elio’s big hands covered the space between my hips and waist, holding me in place and stopping me from moving as his chest heaved.
“Stop, we can’t.” Was it possible for someone to sound like sin and lust, because that was exactly how this man sounded, and it was fucking with my mind.
Our warmth was one, bodies connected, heat joined. And I was scorching with need, the need to move, rub my clit against him, create friction, and fucking get off because, damn hell, he felt so good against me. So thick, long, and hard, fuck—I wanted to see him and touch him.
“This is a bad fucking idea, Zahra,” he grunted.
“I have a thing for bad ideas.”
“My brother, he—”
I leaned closer to him, my chest pressing against his, nipples sensitive against his warm chest.
Elio’s gaze dropped to my lips as I responded, “Makes it even hotter.”
His hips jerked, and I hissed at the spike of pleasure that shot through me from that little friction.
One of his hands remained firm on my hips while the other left to cup the side of my face, his fingers curling underneath my ear and the back of my neck, holding me in place, almost like he was stopping me from kissing him.
“I don’t want to do this,” he rasped.
“I don’t want to either,” I whispered.
Our breathing was loud, faces only inches apart. His grip on the back of my neck tightened, and he leaned in.
“My brother’s going to kill me,” he said breathily against my lips.
“Who’s gonna tell him?”
“Fuck…” He breathed. “You’re a bad influence, Zahra.”
“So I’ve been to—”
Warmth covered my lips; a soft, tentative, sweet heat that made my senses tingle in a wave to suck all the air from my lungs. My heartbeat staggered a millisecond, like a glitch—a glitch caused by the firm press of his lips to mine.
It was embarrassing how fast I melted. Kisses meant nothing to me. But this—fuck—a kiss had never abruptly stolen my breath—no, not stolen, it had sucked it out of me.
Almost like he had been testing the waters, he removed his lips from mine, his unsure gaze flickering to mine.
I shamelessly took in oxygen like I was starved for it, the taste from his lips supplying me with a dazed edge.
That’s not enough.
I gripped his shirt, pulling his body back to mine as I joined our lips together again.
My stomach flipped at how plush, warm, and perfect his lips were, and the moment he parted them, I wanted a taste so desperately that I darted my tongue into his mouth, seeking his, which carefully came to brush and curl around mine.
A soft moan left my throat at the same time a groan vibrated from his chest.
Fuck me—kissing this mouth was an addiction waiting to happen.
Our tongues rubbed against each other for a bit before it materialized into a kiss that felt so intimate and exquisite.
He tasted like the beer he had drunk: hot, mature, and intoxicating. My senses, aside from the one between my legs, head, and the fiery feeling peppering my skin, were nonexistent.
His hand on my waist pulled, urging me to move against him, and I did, grinding on his erection and creating hot friction that sent shivers up my spine and compelled goosebumps on my skin.
His hips moved, and I moaned at the added pressure. This was not enough; I wanted to feel him for real.
God, I was so wet, so horny for a man who wanted to slit my fucking throat open. This was sick. I was sick. But fuck it. I didn’t want to be healthy if this was what sickness felt like.
I rubbed against him, his hand gripping my waist.
We broke away from the kiss, and I took a small breath before tilting my head to the other side, connecting our lips again while we dry humped each other.
Body grinding against body, chasing a high that would take us over and under the edge.
I increased my pace, breaking our kiss and thriving on the feverish breath he let out, his lips parted in ecstasy and lust as his hand lowered to my ass, trying to control my movement.
“My pace,” he gritted out, holding firm on the back of my neck.
“No … my pace,” I countered.
His hard stare held mine, and I felt a sharp pain on my ass.
He fucking pinched me, and the pain had me soaking wet for him.
“My fucking pace,” he repeated, hand back to my waist, stopping my movement.
I gave in.
We went at his pace; he controlled my hips, and my eyes rolled when he ground his erection into my heat. My nightgown rode up altogether.
I didn’t know someone could be good at dry humping. What the fuck was this … “Fuck…” I breathed in a moan, throwing my head back at the sensations hitting me.
I’d never wanted to come so bad. I knew the pill could get you horny, yes … but I didn’t think it could make you feel this good.
Elio grunted deep in his chest as he cursed, a breathy moan escaping him afterward.
The sound sent tantalizing flutters to my stomach, and I felt myself reaching the edge.
Our heated gazes locked again, and I didn’t look away from him, not wanting to miss how beautiful he looked right now, brows pinched, eyes in a daze, lips parted in lust.
At this moment, I wanted more than anything to see how he’d look in the heat of skin-to-skin pleasure. At the edge, about to come.
The thoughts and the pressure of his hard length had my toes curling with tantalizing sensations, and I was almost fucking there; the buildup was quickly ramping up for release … fuck, we were almost—
The roof door pushed open. “Marino, are you out here!”
I scrambled off him instantly, pushing my gown down, my panties soaked and uncomfortable. Annoyance gripped my bones at the interruption that slapped reality back into our faces.
My heart was racing. Unsatisfaction still thumped between my legs, seeking warmth and a little friction I knew would get me off. But thank you, fucking orgasm-restricting universe!
Elio adjusted himself, and I tried to calm my breathing as footsteps stopped. I looked to the side at Angelo, who stood frozen upon spotting us.
The man beside me was as calm as a dove. His breathing was back to normal, face void of any indication that we’d both been about to get each other off—what the fuck?
My pulse was still thudding abnormally.
“Uh…” Angelo started, “… am I—am I interrupting something?”
“Ye—”
“No!” I spoke over Elio’s voice, shooting him a glare as I staggered to my feet, grabbing my jacket and slipping it back on. “I was just leaving.”
Elio’s head snapped up to look at me. “What?”
I glanced down at him, catching the displeasure lining his brows, his calm facade shifting.
I swallowed, my heart hammering as I forced a very strained smile at Angelo, before walking quickly towards the roof door.
I stopped halfway through and turned sharply to a still-stunned Angelo, whose eyes were wide and unsure, as if he was trying to put two and two together, but the results were impossible.
“He’s high on drugs, and it will wear off probably in a few hours,” I informed.
“What the—”
“Anything he says is a lie. Night, Angie.”
“Angie?”
I scurried out the door and down the anxiety-raising staircase without waiting to hear what else he would say.
Note to self: Never take Dog’s pills near Elio Marino’s dwellings. My heart was still crazy—because what the fuck had just happened? And how the fuck do we come back from that … Devil—oh shit …
It’s the pill, my mind assured.
Even though I felt very fucking sober right now—
It’s because of the pill.
Blame it on the pill.