I kiss him hard as he starts to fuck me faster. He pumps his hips deep into my tight pussy and I gasp, moaning into his mouth. He growls, almost a roar, body a lightning rod, my pleasure coming from the heavens to invade my skin and it drives me utterly insane. I bite his lip as he shivers and groans in the most sensual way possible, then lowers me down to my feet, turns me around, and pins me against the wall, my breasts flat against the tiles.
“Tell me I own you,” he whispers in my ear as his cock slides into my soaking wet pussy from behind.
I groan as he stretches me to the brim. It’s like being torn to pieces and stitched back together again, but every motion is pure sin and pure pleasure.
“You own me. God, Calvino, you own me.”
“Say you’re mine, Grace.” He wraps one hand around my throat, holding firm but not tight, not choking. I moan and my fingers curl into the wall as he fucks me nice and slow, driving me wild.
“I’m yours.”
“Every inch of you? From your toes to your tight little cunt to that pretty mouth?”
“Every inch, baby, fuck me. I need you, Calvino.”
He strokes faster and deeper and I’m in heaven, I’m in bliss.
“I can’t get enough of you, Grace. You’re breaking me, you’re driving me insane, and I’d gladly lose everything to keep on taking your tight little body. I’d burn the world to watch you come again and again on my thick cock, you dirty fucking girl.”
He reaches around my hip and works my clit as he fucks me, faster and faster, pounding into me. I scream his name and lose my mind as the pleasure explodes all through me, and I can’t believe how good this feels, can’t believe how much I love submitting to a man like Calvino: an asshole, a conceited jerk, a dangerous mafia beast, the sort of man I should hate, the sort of man that murdered my cousin—but it’s good, it’s so good, and I’m losing it completely as he fucks me into oblivion.
I come with his name on my lips, and he roars as he keeps going, fucking me through it, and I feel him finish as my orgasm begins to end. He fills me to the brim and I love every inch, every drop, so greedy for him.
He holds me when we’re done. He kisses me and murmurs how good it feels to be with me in my ear. I purr in response like a content kitten lying in the sun. We soap each other, clean our bodies together, and step out hand in hand. We towel off and he lovingly watches as I put on comfortable clothes. It’s strange, having him watch me like that—like he can’t look away even if he wants to.
We sit out in the living room when we’re dry and comfortable, my feet in his lap.
He rubs my heel with one hand as he looks at me. I smile back at him and bask in the post-orgasm pleasure of just being with him. The foot rub helps too.
“I visited the Sandtrap earlier,” he says quietly, staring down at the floor. I can tell he’s troubled and I’m losing him somewhat, the perfection of the shower starting to drift away. I wish I could draw him back, but sometimes there’s nothing I can do, the world is just too much.
“What happened?”
“I talked to Vince. He seemed… unhinged.” He grimaces and looks at me. “Did someone go through your phone?”
“Juniper,” I say, annoyed with myself for not telling him sooner. “I punched her in the face. Diego was there.”
“He didn’t tell me.”
“You’ve been busy.” I shrug a little.
That seems to trouble him.
“Vince wasn’t well,” he says, glaring at the windows. I can practically see his mind whirring. “He sounded angry and paranoid, and Rella told me something strange, that he and Charlie have been fighting. But Rella said it’s not always Vince’s fault. She thinks sometimes it’s more like Charlie instigating and making things worse.”
“That doesn’t make sense.” I sit up and smooth out my wet hair. I really need to do something about it or else it’ll dry like a frizzy mess, but this conversation is too important to walk away from. “Charlie wouldn’t do that.”
“That’s what I said, but Rella was sure.”
“Charlie’s so level-headed and calm all the time. I mean, she’s gotten upset and cried, but angry? I can’t imagine her ever instigating fights with Vince.”
“I know. I know. But still.” He stands and walks to the kitchen. I watch him pour a glass of whiskey for himself and a glass of wine for me. I accept it wordlessly and he sits in the chair across from me. I wish he’d sit closer so I could feel his body, but his face is clouded and whatever joy we felt with each other earlier is nearly all gone now, like the outside world has to invade and steal it all away.