Chapter 11 #2
She frowned and turned to me. “What did he take?” Her voice was skeptical as she pursed her lips together.
I cleared my throat and took a sip of my water. “Something he shouldn't have taken.” I gave her another short response.
She raised her eyebrows and turned back to the TV.
“Huh, he doesn't seem like the thief-type. Are you sure what he stole from you was really yours in the first place?” she asked, so carefree, as if Carlo stealing Giselle from me hadn't shattered me in every way possible.
I didn't have an answer for her. And I knew she didn't understand the consequences of what she'd just said.
Her words echoed deep inside me.
Had Giselle been mine in the first place? Or had I made it all up in my fucking head?
Had.
She.
Ever.
Been.
Mine?
Could the answer be—that simple?
Francesca gazed over at me casually. “Well? You didn't answer me.” Her spoon dug into the depths of the orange macaroni again.
But before she could lift the spoon from her bowl, I slipped my hand around the back of her head and guided her head to me.
“I'm beginning to think you're right.” My eyes darted from one eye to the other.
And then I kissed her. She tasted like cheesy orange macaroni. And hot dogs. And a hint of cucumber.
I couldn't remember a better kiss.
Part of me was scared she'd push me away. And I didn't know if I could handle that.
But just then she—smiled against my lips.
“Sometimes when we lose something that we wanted,” she kissed me and pulled back a bit, “something better comes along to replace it.” She kissed me one more time.
“Wait for your something better, Stefan.
It'll be worth it.” Then she sat back and drew her legs up and crossed them while she ate.
And I thought she was likely correct, except for one thing.
Something better had already come along. I didn't have to wait.
After a sandwich, two bowls of cheesy macaroni and hot dogs, a bowl of limpy salad, and a few handfuls of microwave popcorn—she'd eaten the rest—we were in bed.
I'd managed a shower. Thank God. Francesca set one of the kitchen chairs in there and I was able to wash myself without too much assistance.
To be honest, I felt like a new man. It was amazing what a shower could do for your spirit.
It was also amazing what a full belly could do. I didn't feel nearly as angry as I normally did.
I wondered if part of it wasn't Francesca's words still bouncing around in my head.
“Maybe it was never yours in the first place,” she'd said.
I loved Giselle. I'd love her until the day I died. But she was with Carlo. They had kids together. She wasn't coming back to me. Not ever. I knew that. And I'd known that months ago when he'd essentially taken her from me.
But was she ever really mine? I'd blown my shot with Giselle.
I'd made the fatal error of waiting to show her my hand.
Instead, I spent fucking months being the good guy.
Bringing her and Dani groceries and whatever else they needed.
I hung out at their shitty rental house, cooking and playing. And helping.
But I didn't make the first move until my brother was already in the picture.
Not that I knew that at the time.
And now that I look back on it—Giselle was always his. Daniella had called him Dada, for Christ's sake.
And when Carlo and I'd eventually agreed to share Giselle—well, that was a shitty idea right from day fucking one.
I mean, it was fun. A lot of fun at times.
But I think I knew deep down inside that it wasn't a real solution.
I think I knew I'd already lost Giselle. Even then.
I was only holding onto the smallest vestiges of her.
Surprisingly, that revelation didn't cause the pain I thought would follow.
Not at all.
In fact, it only made me feel—lighter somehow.
Maybe it was the cheesy macaroni and hot dogs. The same shit Carlo used to cook for us at college. He made it the best. You wouldn't think there was a good way or a bad way to make that macaroni. But there was.
Fuck.
I missed my goddamn brother. My father would be crushed knowing we weren't speaking. Thankfully, our mother was in Italy, so she didn't know the extent of what was really going on.
And then there was Nick. My best friend. He and Eve had gotten tangled up in all of this garbage, too. I missed my best friend. I'd been lonelier than I wanted to admit without all of them.
Could I forgive those assholes for what they'd done?
Giselle and Eve had begged me to come back and rejoin the family.
Could I do that?
Could I forgive all the shit my brother and Nick had pulled?
Was I a big enough person?
“Chesca, come here,” I whispered as I reached out and rubbed her back.
“Tired.” She yawned. “And full. Sleepy.”
Fuck, she was adorable.
I smiled into the dark and leaned over and kissed her shoulder. “Just for a minute. And then you can go to sleep.”
She shook her head. “Tired.”
My hands slipped around her and turned her to me.
“Stefan,” she whined against my chest. But she didn't fight it.
No.
Instead, she cuddled in and laid her head on my shoulder and chest. Her hand rested on my stomach, avoiding my bandages.
“I'm sorry, Chesca. So sorry.” I kissed her forehead and held her tight.
“Sorry for what?” she asked against my chest.
“For yelling at you the other day. When you went outside mostly naked.”
She laughed softly, her body shaking next to mine.
“I wasn't naked. And nobody's down there, anyway.” She snuggled in closer to me and I felt my cock stir. Not that it wasn't already stirring. Because it was. Just like it was most of the time when Francesca was around.
Or when she wasn't around, and I was simply thinking about her.
“Yeah, you were. And we need to talk about that.
You're mine, Chesca. I don't think you understand what that means.
But you will. For now, all you have to understand is that this body belongs to me.
No one else gets it. No one else gets to see it.
Just me. Only me. So, when you go out in see through as fuck clothes, that pisses me off.
And you can't pull that with me. Not anymore.”
Her body stilled, and her hand began sliding off my stomach. But I grabbed it and stopped it.
“I'm not yours, Stefan,” she whispered and tried to pull away.
I didn't allow it. My arm around her tightened.
“Yeah, you are. My come's been on you and in you. I've marked you. You're mine.”
She inhaled a deep breath. “I'm not. And just because we made out one night, weeks ago—does not mean I'm—yours. That's bananas.”
I chuckled and kissed the top of her head. “That's the way it works. And what we did was a hell of a lot more than just make out. I came on you. You came on my hand. We were one step away from me taking your virginity. Which I'll do once I have my strength back.”
She gasped and pushed even harder against me. But even as injured as I was, my upper body strength outmatched hers. “Let me go!” She fought with me, trying to untangle herself from me.
“Settle down. I'm not fucking you tonight. Or anytime soon. And when I do, you'll beg me for it.”
She inhaled a deep breath and said, “That's not going to happen. And who says I'm a virgin? I've slept with dozens of guys.”
I laughed right the fuck out loud. I could tell she didn't appreciate that.
“Not only are you a virgin, you'd never been kissed before.
And I'm fuckin' happy you hadn’t been. Glad my tongue was the first to have that.
And I can't wait to take your virginity, Chesca.
It's been a long time since I've initiated a woman.
And I have a feeling you're going to be the tightest one I've ever broken.”
She struggled in my grip, but I refused to let her go.
“You're a pig!” she spat out angrily.
I couldn't deny that fact. I laughed and pulled her on top of me. Which I could tell she did not expect in the least. Add in the fact that I was now fully hard, it must've been a shock to her.
“Never once said I wasn't a pig, Chesca.” My hand dug into her hair, and I pulled her head close to mine. “But I do know one thing,” I said against her panting lips. “You like it.”
And then I kissed her, crushing my lips against hers. And almost instantly, she stopped fighting.
And met my tongue, tangling with it as she melted into me. She was careful of my chest, holding herself up with her hands. But her tits still pressed against me. Speaking of which, I needed to get rid of her tiny tank top.
“Lift up,” I said after raising the shirt over her breasts. Surprisingly—but not—she sat up and pulled her top off the rest of the way.
Fuck.
My hands slid up her thighs to her short as fuck shorts. “These, too,” I ordered, already feeling out of breath. She hesitated—but only for a moment. And then I helped rid her of her shorts.
Fuck.
She was naked on top of me.
“Hold on,” I said, pulling my boxer briefs down and kicking them off.
“What are you doing?” she breathed out in a low, sexy as fuck voice.
“I just want to feel you, angel. Rub yourself on me. We're not fucking. Not tonight.”
She appeared uncertain of what exactly to do. And that made me even harder.
“Like this, angel.” I set my hands on her waist and pulled her down until her hot pussy was on my cock.
Fuck.
She was already wet.
“Move, Chesca. Do what feels good.” I guided her with my hands. Encouraging her to slide against my hard cock with her warm, wet pussy.
Soon, she started to grind and takeover with her own movements. And I knew then that I had her. That we were absolutely sexually suited for each other.
I played with her gorgeous breasts, feeling the heavy weight of them in my hands. I lifted one to my lips and licked at her nipple. She gasped and pressed herself down on my cock even harder.
Yeah.
She liked it.
I sucked her into my mouth and really let my tongue swirl and flick her hard nipple. She ground down on me more and quickened her pace.