Chapter 15 Sandro
SANDRO
Something about Evi unsettles me. Not in a bad way.
Not even in a way I can name. Just… deeply.
I stand under the spray of the shower, hot water running pink down the drain, and I can still feel the ghost of her touch—steady, sure, and impossibly gentle.
The sting of the needle didn’t bother me.
It’s not the first time I’ve been stitched up.
Hell, I’ve done worse to myself in the field.
But Evi made it mean something. She handled me like she couldn’t stand that I was hurt.
And if I had to guess, it wasn’t fear that made her hands shake but the idea of causing someone pain—even a man like me.
Still, she persevered, revealing that silent courage I’ve only caught glimpses of but find fascinating.
God, it turns me on. And as she steps into the steam, I can’t help but admire her beauty. Her chestnut hair is already damp, clinging to her shoulders as it darkens to near black, and for a second, I forget to breathe. She hesitates on the threshold, nervous, unsure, but determined.
That’s the thing about Evi—she’s braver than she realizes.
Any other bride would have taken one look at me and fled.
But not her.
Her bare feet slap softly against the tile as she approaches, and when she finally looks up at me, I feel the warmth radiating from her like the sun.
I move before I think, closing the space between us, my hand finding her jaw.
Her breath catches, but she doesn’t pull away.
Her skin is warm from the steam, soft beneath my rough fingers.
Silent need thrums through me as I stare down at her lush lips, and I brush my thumb across her full bottom one.
They part for me, her breath rushing cool and soft across my skin. And in that moment, something inside me gives way. Lowering my head, I bring our mouths crashing together in a kiss that says more than I ever could with words.
Evi doesn’t seem to mind the roughness as she sighs against me, her hands coming to rest against my chest. The movement sends a flare of heat through me, but it’s not just desire—it’s the way she fits there, like she belongs.
I deepen the kiss, pressing her back until her shoulders meet the slick shower wall. The water cascades between us, soaking her hair, running down her spine. I cage her there, my hands braced on either side of her head as I consume her with a need I’ve never felt before.
This isn’t supposed to happen. I’m not supposed to feel this.
But something about Evi appeals to me in a way no other woman has.
Her genuine happiness, her desire to be useful—I feel an inexplicable connection to her, like we’re twin souls, searching for a purpose after a lifetime of not being enough—except I have no doubt that Evi has never felt like she was less than enough.
How could she? She’s as close to perfect as any being on earth could get.
Evi is something I never saw coming. A woman I don’t just want, but want to trust. And it terrifies me.
The heat of my desire threatens to overwhelm me as I think about all the things I want to do with her—do to her. And I break the molten kiss before I lose control, resting my forehead against hers.
“Tell me, Evi, what are your deepest desires?” I rasp, my breaths ragged with the effort not to lose myself in her. “The fantasies you dream about but have never told anyone?”
Everyone has them, and if I can, I want to fulfill the dark pleasures that turn her on.
I want her to trust that I can satiate even her naughtiest needs.
I know the kind of fantasies women can get into.
Raf and I have frequented sex clubs as young as sixteen, following in our brother Leo’s footsteps, and while Leo’s given up that lifestyle to be with his wife—and Raf did as well when he married Genevieve—I was still using the club to satisfy my physical needs until recently.
So I know the kind of appetites a woman can possess. And I want Evi to trust me with hers.
She swallows, her gold-flecked eyes darting away for a second before coming back to mine. “I just want to make you proud,” she admits. “To be a good wife. To… give you a family.”
There’s no agenda, no manipulation in her words, just pure, earnest hope. The simplicity of it undoes me, as does the emotion that thickens her voice when she talks about a family—as if she’s getting choked up just thinking about having my babies.
God, I hadn’t even thought about it until now, but the idea of seeing Evi’s belly round and swollen with our child is enough to undo me.
Still, that wasn’t what I was looking for. Not in this moment. Because even her answer is completely selfless, and I want her to tell me her most selfish cravings.
“Family’s good,” I say quietly. “But that’s not what I meant.”
She tilts her head, frowning slightly. “Then what did you mean?”
I study her for a moment, weighing whether I should say it. I’ve seen too much darkness to believe innocence survives long in this world. But she’s different. Untouched by the filth that shaped me. Still, I can’t help myself.
“Haven’t you ever thought about how you want someone to touch you? Treat you? Tie you up, maybe? Or spank you?”
“Spank me…?”
Evi’s cheeks color, her eyes widening as if the notion is beyond scandalous, and I wonder if she’s ever received a spanking. I doubt her parents ever laid a hand on her.
“Why would I want someone to spank me?”
“It’s… like a game. Reward and punishment. Believe it or not, you can find a lot of pleasure in pain.”
Her eyes flick down to my chest, to the bandage covering my fresh stitches, and my lips twitch when I can almost see the gears turning in her mind.
Yeah, considering I’m something of a masochist, perhaps I’m not the best person to try and explain this to her, least of all now.
But as usual, I’m like the sledgehammer, not the scalpel.
Even if my timing is terrible, my experience would tell me everyone feels it to some degree.
And I want her to know the kind of pleasure I can deliver.
“Pleasurable pain?” Evi murmurs, doubt lacing her tone as her eyes lift to meet mine once more.
“It’s an experience where control and surrender aren’t about weakness. They’re about trust.”
Her breath catches, and she nervously licks her lips, her pink tongue darting out to tempt me. “You mean…?”
“I mean,” I say softly, brushing a strand of wet hair from her cheek, “some people like to give up control. Some like to take it.”
Her eyes widen slightly, and she bites her lip. “And which one are you?”
“Guess.”
I see the answer flicker across her face before she whispers it. “You like control.”
“Yes.” I pause. “But it’s not about power. It’s about knowing someone trusts you enough to let go.”
She looks at me like she’s trying to decide if she should be terrified—or intrigued. Then her eyes drop, closing me out. “I’ve never…” she starts, then trails off, shaking her head. “I don’t know how…”
I step closer, my hands cradling the back of her neck, and I guide her chin up with my thumbs, forcing her to look at me.
“What if I’m bad at it?” she breathes, the worry in her eyes so genuine, it makes my heart squeeze.
“That’s impossible.” I lean in, my lips brushing her ear. “Trust me.”
A shiver ripples through her, and for a second, I think she might back away. Instead, she looks up at me with a spark of curiosity that feels like an invitation. “Is that something you want to do?” she asks quietly. “Punish me?”
The question catches me off guard—not because of what she’s asking, but because of the way she asks it.
Not with fear but with fascination. There’s no doubt Evi would make a perfect sub with her natural desire to please me.
But she would be hard to punish when she’s so full of sunshine and light. Still, I’d think of something.
“Only if you want to try it,” I murmur. “I want to learn your darkest desires.”
Evi’s breath hitches, but she doesn’t shy away, and a slow smile spreads across her lips. “Okay.”
The word hits harder than a bullet. She means it. I can see it in her eyes—that stubborn determination that won’t let her yield, just like when she offered to stitch me up. But there’s something else too, something softer, and it calls to a part of me I thought I’d long since buried.
I trace my thumb down her throat, feeling the rapid flutter of her pulse, and I’ve never wanted her more than I do in this moment. But still, I hold back. “You know what you’re saying?”
She nods once, the movement small but certain. “I trust you.”
God, help me.
The sound that leaves my throat is somewhere between a growl and a groan, and I kiss her again, harder this time, pouring every ounce of restraint I have into keeping myself tethered.
She meets me with the same urgency, her hands finding my shoulders, sliding up the back of my neck, drawing me closer.
Every sense sharpens—the heat, the slickness of her skin against mine, the faint tremor in her breath. I could drown in this. In her. Letting my hands trail down her body, I explore her, stroking, kneading, rewarding her for her bravery.
And Evi presses into me, her soft breasts yielding to my hard chest, her nipples adamant against my skin. The stitches pulse beneath my bandage, but that only reminds me of just how talented my wife is with her fingers.
Pressing my knee between her thighs, I guide them open, and she gasps as my skin meets the wet warmth of her slit. She’s already wet for me, and my cock twitches with anticipation. But this moment isn’t about me right now. It’s about showing Evi just what a good girl she is.
So I keep our lips locked as I wrap one arm around her waist, and with my other hand, reach between her thighs to stroke her eager folds.
Evi whimpers, her body going slack as her knees give out beneath her. But I already have a good grip on her, and I hold her firmly against my body as I spread her slick juices over her clit and start to circle.
She gives a full-body shiver, her arms trembling as she clings to my neck, and the feel of her surrender drives that animal instinct inside me to go wild.
But I keep it firmly tethered, consuming her lips and tangling my tongue with hers so I won’t lose all sense of purpose and decide to take her hard and fast and relentlessly against the shower wall.
“Sandro,” Evi whimpers against my lips, and I circle harder, then slide two fingers into her tight entrance as I grind the heel of my palm against her clit. “Oh God!” she gasps, her head falling back against the shower wall with a thump as she falls apart around me.
Slick excitement gushes from her folds, coating my fingers as her pussy throbs, urging me deeper.
I comply, thrusting my fingers in to the hilt and curling them.
Evi shudders, her hips rolling forward in a greedy chase as she rides out her climax, and my cock throbs to know that it will be the first of many tonight.
Breaking our kiss, I stare down at her beautifully blissful face, the softness of her features as her eyelids flutter, her eyes rolling back into her head.
I press my forehead to hers again, breathing her in, and the heat between us builds until it feels like the air itself might ignite.
I don’t need to push it further. The promise is already there, humming under our skin like an electric current.
She’s flushed, her chest rising and falling against mine. I can feel her heart racing, matching the rhythm of my own, and it takes every ounce of control I possess to keep things from slipping past the edge.
Instead, I trail my thumb along her lower lip, watching the way she quivers. “You’re something else, raggio di sole,” I whisper. “Did you know that?”
Her smile is small, but real. “You keep calling me that.”
“Because that’s what you are.” I drag my knuckles along her jaw, the affection in the motion surprising even me. “You light up every damn room you walk into.”
The words leave my mouth before I can stop them, and I immediately want to take them back. I don’t do confessions. Not like that.
But Evi’s smile deepens, soft and luminous, and I can’t bring myself to regret it.
For a long moment, neither of us moves. The only sound is the steady rush of water, the rhythm of our breathing syncing until I can’t tell where mine ends and hers begins.
Then I lean down, kiss her once more—slow, claiming, the kind that makes my pulse hammer—and pull back just enough to speak against her lips.
“Dry off,” I tell her, my voice low and rough. “Go wait for me on the bed.”
Her breath stutters, but she nods, and a moment later, she’s stepping out of the shower, water trailing down her skin as she reaches for a towel. She doesn’t ask why. She doesn’t need to. There’s trust in her eyes, quiet and absolute.
As I watch her go, something unrecognizable twisting in my chest. I’ve been with plenty of women. Beautiful ones. Wild ones. But none of them ever looked back at me the way she just did—like she sees something worth waiting for.
As the water beats down on my shoulders, I brace my hands against the wall and let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.
I should be careful with her. She’s not like the women I used to find at the clubs, the ones who knew how to play the game, who wanted the same rough edges I embody. Evi’s built of softness, of patience and kindness, things I don’t understand how to hold without breaking.
But she’s mine. And now that I have her, I don’t want to let her go. When I finally turn off the water, the room goes quiet. Steam curls in the air, thick and ghostly. I grab a towel and dry off, the ache in my chest sharper than the sting of my stitched wound.
Whatever this thing is between us, it’s changing me.