Chapter 42
LILY
We don’t even make it to the bedroom. He props me against the kitchen counter as I undo his belt and zipper, and he’s pushing my dress over my hips. How I’ve missed his touch, and the desperation shows as I bite and tug at his lip.
I’ve missed him more than words can express, even when I tried to deny my feelings and depend on logic.
A man like Lorenzo Moretti should not be the man of my dreams, but I’ve never experienced a connection—more like an obsession—that’s felt so right and fueled me to be better in unconventional ways.
“Fuck, I need a condom,” Lorenzo hisses, but I grab his cock and line him up with my throbbing pussy. It's begging for him to break me in two.
“I’m on birth control,” I pant, desperately trying to push myself down on his cock. Fuck, I forgot how big he is.
He grabs my hips, impaling me. I cry out, my nails running down his back as I adjust to his size, but he’s unrelenting as he pounds into me like a madman.
My back grinds against the kitchen counter.
Something smashes, but neither of us looks toward it.
I cling to him, something inside of me coming to its finality.
I love Lorenzo.
Deeply.
Madly.
Even when it doesn’t make sense, I still want to make him mine.
He continues thrusting into me, and I lift my legs higher for a better angle, until he flips me over, my toes barely touching the floor, and then he’s fucking me from behind. His hand threads through my hair and yanks, jarring my neck, and I thrive off of it.
“You’ve driven me absolutely fucking insane these past few months,” he growls, slamming his frustration into me. I meet his pace, letting all the anger, pain, and frustration out on his cock.
“Yeah, well, you’re kind of an asshole,” I bite back through panting breaths.
His lips find the nape of my neck. His other hand wraps around the front of my throat, and a comforting warmth trickles through me as he slowly squeezes.
Home.
Safe.
A security I’ve been praying for, for as long as I can remember.
It doesn’t make sense that it comes in the shape of a man cutting off my air supply, but I also know he’s the only one who will give me his last breath in exchange.
A life and promise he can live up to.
“You’re so fucking perfect,” he praises, and that warmth continues to trickle as I wrap my hand around the back of his neck and pull him back to kiss my neck.
“You talk too much,” I berate with a smile, knowing that he’ll punish me for it.
It’s twisted, endearing, and palpable.
But this is the love my body screams for.
Being dominated as long as he promises that outside the bedroom, I’m his equal in every way.
He increases the pressure of his grip on my throat, and my legs begin to tremble as a quick burst of fear passes through me. I’m held in place, forced to take his enormity, and I hang on his permission for my next breath. Hopefully, not until I come.
The climb begins, ripping out of me in sharp tugs. The moment he jerks into me, I scream out his name as he releases his grip around my throat, and I follow on a wave of pure bliss that breaks me into a million pieces—always disrupting my world and ruining anything that ever made sense.
Reforming into the hands of the man I can’t be without.
He slowly rocks back and forth as he kisses down my nape and wraps an arm around my stomach to pull me farther into him, possessively.
I focus on his every breath, a slow settling of ease running through me, that I’m covered in all of his overbearing presence.
And for the first time in a long time, I’m at peace.
Feeling that I’m exactly where I’m meant to be.
His.
Home.
Safe.