Chapter Thirty-Five #2
For a second, I forgot to breathe. My chest stopped heaving until I felt her twirl her tongue around the head of my cock, coaxing me deeper into her mouth.
A soft, breathy groan rumbled from my chest, and I parted my lips, letting the sound out.
I was throbbing so hard inside the wetness and delicate tightness of her mouth, my head was filled with equally sinful thoughts, like how badly I wanted to grip her hair and take control, fucking her mouth like it was my personal property.
Control.
I ground my teeth together, holding back.
Zahra took me deeper, her tongue giving me equal attention as she moved her head, stroking, sucking, and licking at the same goddamn time.
How the fuck is she so good—
I felt her soft grip at my base, and she squeezed lightly, removing her mouth from my cock, and looking up at me from underneath her lashes, lips swollen, eyes glassy with lust as she said, “Fuck my mouth.”
“What?”
“Do it.” She shifted closer to me, eager. “Please.”
My grip tightened on her hair, and I tilted her head back to the angle I preferred. I moved my other hand, wrapping it around my length, stroking a few times while I angled the head against her lips.
“Open up for me.”
The moment she let her lips part, I slid into her mouth, filling it up.
Fuck.
I lost control. My crazed habit took over. There was no stopping this now.
My fingers buried themselves into her hair, and I gripped and pulled her head further back.
And then, I fucked her mouth.
Pumping in mercilessly, past the limit where she had taken me before. I hit the back of her throat, still didn’t bottom out, but the tightness hugging the head of my cock at her gag doubled my need for release.
Her choking and gurgling sounds as I tamed her mouth swarmed straight to my head, causing chaos in my chest and bringing haste to my movement.
“Fuck, Zahra.” I caught her eyes tearing up at the force with which I used her mouth.
I was close. So fucking close.
Zahra held both my thighs to steady herself, and I wanted to savor this moment, record it in my head and never let it leave, but I knew we still had to go out there, and I’d already made a mess of her hair.
Oh fuck …
I had to take back control but damn it to hell and under—her mouth felt so good wrapped around my cock.
My need for release tightened to the edge.
“Ah—” I breathed out. “Swallow?”
She answered positively with a small throaty sound, and I thrust into her mouth a few more times before my movements turned sloppy.
One of her hands left my thigh as she wrapped her hand at my base; the short stroke she gave had my release spurting into her mouth and down her throat as she swallowed.
My movement slowed, and I let her lick and suck the aftershocks out of me. I was still semi-hard and hated that we weren’t in a more private area.
I wanted to bathe her face with my cum, revel in the fucking sight for sore eyes I knew she would be. But we couldn’t be messy. Not here.
I slipped out of her mouth, letting go of my hold on her hair.
“I want more,” she said, her tongue running over her glistening bottom lip as she watched me tuck myself back into decency again.
“Get up.”
She did, wiping the corners of her eyes as she squirmed on her feet, most definitely due to the discomfort between her legs.
Her lips looked like I’d fucked the subtleness out of them; they were swollen, pink flushed, fucking kissable, and I wanted to do it, close the distance between us, taste my cum on her tongue—but I couldn’t.
I hated that I couldn’t.
So I pulled her by her waist, and her body fell against mine.
The piercings from her nipples pressed against my shirt, and my tongue ached to lick them back to softness.
I raised a hand to her hair, brushing the short length as I asked, “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”
“Not in a bad way,” she said.
“Hm.” I arranged her hair as it was when she entered the washroom.
“You might not believe it,” she said, and I dropped my gaze to hers, “but this was the first time I’ve let anyone near my mouth since I was fifteen. Just in case my skills were—”
“You were perfect,” I countered immediately because, yes, she was. I’d never been so undone to the point that it affected my breathing. “I thought you said your first time was seventeen?” I asked, even though I knew it had been a lie.
She looked away from my face to my shoulder. “I lied,” she said. “I was fourteen … my first time.”
My hand froze on her hair; she noticed and quickly added to her previous statement.
“It was nothing. I barely remember it.” She shrugged, but I knew she did remember. Her lie was transparent.
“Hm,” I said in response.
Her gaze met mine again. “So … this no kissing thing. Can we just take it away?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“I never go back on my words or my affirmations.” I dropped my hand from her hair, trailing the naked skin on her exposed thigh. Unable to keep my hands off.
“But you do,” she pointed out. “We just broke one of your rules.”
“Which you will pay for.” My hand moved.
A giddy look crossed her face. “Oooh, why do I like the sound of—” She gasped when my hand cupped the heat between her legs, my touch intense and possessive because it was precisely how I felt.
A glint of pride bloomed in my chest at how soaked and hot she was for me. I wanted nothing more than to make her pay for the interruption she had caused today, for the rules she had made me break.
Just as she had made me lose my damn mind a few minutes ago, I wanted her to lose hers too.
She sucked in her bottom lip to stop the soft hiss that had been about to escape.
“You don’t know what you’ve signed up for, Querida.”
Her eyes brightened as she released her lip. “I could say the same for you.” She smiled. “As you said, we’re alike in so many different ways. I want to unearth you as much as you want to do the same with me. It’s what makes this fun.”
“You shouldn’t hoodwink yourself by thinking there is anything fun about this. It is incommodious at best.”
“Incommo-what now?”
I took my hand off her, settling both on her waist before I hesitantly pushed her away from me.
“Inconvenient,” I stated in much simpler terms.
Grabbing my trench coat, I brushed past her towards the door and slipped it back on, turning to face her.
“And … he’s back.” She took my previous position, leaning against the sink as wide lustful eyes roamed my body.
I eyed her. “I have a small house downtown. That’s where we’ll be settling tonight.”
Her eyes spoke dirty thoughts as she watched my fingers fasten two buttons of my trench coat.
“Sport.”
“Yeah?” Her gaze snapped to mine.
“Did you hear what I said?”
“Honestly, no. Your fingers are—distracting. Why are they distracting?”
By habit, I shoved both hands into the pockets of the coat. “I said I have a small house downtown, and we’ll settle there tonight.”
“Small house?”
“Yes. Angelo will be at his mother’s, and by the morning, we’ll be back on a flight to Milan,” I informed.
Hopefully, an enclosed space housing the both of us would be enough to get in her head and discover why her eyes held so many secrets.
“Okay, when you said small, I was thinking like a—smallish fancy house with black-and-white design and classy shit—” she said.
I could see what she was seeing now: the small living room with three yellow couches, soft beige wallpaper, decorative flowers on the walls, bookshelves lining a small space by the far end of one of the couches, and a soft, comfortable rug that added a homey feel to the house.
There was one kitchen, bathroom, and bedroom, and no passageways. The doors to the bathroom and bedroom were to our left, although the bathroom had another cojoined door inside the bedroom.
The kitchen was visible from where we stood, a small cozy space with a brown marble counter, one gas cooker, an oven, and one small fridge with picture stickers of my brother and sister, Elia, and my mom.
Some of the pictures were cut out; a face was missing—my face.
“The more I look at it, the more it feels … personal,” Zahra voiced.
“It is,” I told her, pulling off my coat and turning on more lights.
The room was now bathed in white, brown, and yellow.
I caught the look of discomfort in Zahra’s eyes as she turned to look at me. “Elio, why did you bring me here? We could have gone to a hotel or something.”
I took off my wristwatch. “It would be illogical to spend money on hotels when I have a house here.”
“You’re rich.”
“Yes, but I am not wasteful.”
“It’s—” She paused, exasperated and jittery. “Elio, what do you think we’re doing here?” She motioned between us.
“What?”
“What do you think this is? You can’t bring me to your space … You shouldn’t trust me so much.”
“I don’t trust you.”
“Yet you bring me here. To this house that looks like your safe space. I’m pretty sure you’ve never brought anyone here, so what makes me an exception?”
She was right. No one had been here but me. This house was a delusion. I didn’t like flashy or extravagant things. I was born from wealth, but I wanted the most minor things that came with life.
Well, for now … while I’m still inconveniently breathing.
“I don’t want anything to get mixed up or blurry, okay? This feels too personal,” she said.
“I think it’s just a house. Why are you overthinking, hm? Is this stemming from guilt because you do not have pure intentions?”
“It’s not guilt,” she countered … She lied. “I’m just—I’m just not used to this. Maybe I’m overthinking it.”
“Or maybe you need a shower and a change of clothes. And food, because you eat like a horse, and the dinner served today was subpar.”
“Hmm.” A smile broke out on her face. “Look at you, knowing the right buttons to push.”
“Okay.”
She laughed, walking around the space. “Are any of your soldiers around?”
“Why? Do you aim to strangle me in my sleep?”
She turned to me, a smile curving at her lips. “Don’t give me ideas.”
Zahra Faizan was a beautiful disaster. A cunning woman. An entity as discreet and suave as me.
Her only mistake was her utter transparency.
“I’ll shower and wear your clothes while you order food. Or cook—can you cook?”
“I don’t know.”
“Ordering it is, then.”
“Hm. The bathroom is the one on the left. Everything you require is easy to find. It’s a small space. Nothing is hidden.”
“Roger that.”
I watched her walk towards the door I had pointed out and disappear behind it.
My eyes were still on the door when my phone vibrated in my pocket. I pulled out the device, seeing Angelo’s name on the screen.
I answered. “Significant emergencies, Mancini.”
“I’m calling to check in. You didn’t inform me if you arrived at your place yet.”
“I did. Did you find them?”
“Yes. They are from Sicily. Manuel Conti’s men.”
“Manuel Conti,” I drawled. “Hm. Dig up all you can. Not about her; her information in the database is useless. But Conti. I want to know everything.”
“Noted. Are you being careful?”
“Yes, I have condoms, Papà.”
“That’s not—Jesus. I’m just saying be careful around her.”
“Hm. Say hi to your mother and Lisa for me. Don’t forget the prayer pamphlets; she would feel offended if I didn’t ask for them.”
His mom was religious, and each time Angelo visited, he always returned with pamphlets she had picked out for me. His mother, my mother, and his aunt, Lisa, had been close back in the day. But then my mother’s case worsened, and she withdrew from everyone until …
“I’ll do that.” Angelo’s voice reached my ear. “See you tomorrow.”
I hung up.
Earlier, I hadn’t cared enough to look into Manuel Conti.
I was not one to meddle with growing families.
Let’s say our level differed in rank. But his name had been mentioned one too many times, and his connection with Zahra evoked a gut feeling I couldn’t ignore.
It might not concern me, but it was happening right in my territory.
And that … just wouldn’t do.