CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Cammie
I had emotional whiplash.
With a heady dose of disassociating from the harsher realities of the night.
It was like my body and mind decided it couldn’t handle any more of the sadness and betrayal, and it needed something else to focus on.
And what was easier to focus on than the fully naked man behind you who, despite not making a single move on you, had a straining cock and seemingly saint-like patience?
So, yeah, there was all that bad stuff that I didn’t want to think about.
But there was a lot of good stuff too.
Freedom.
A future on my own terms.
And, yes, Massimo.
With his kindness and his gentleness and his understanding.
He didn’t push or try to tell me things were okay when they obviously weren’t, when they likely wouldn’t be for a good, long while.
He was just there.
Listening.
Comforting.
Those bruised parts of my heart felt a little less battered with him there.
I wasn’t going to overthink that. I was going to lean into it. I was going to allow myself to drift away into the feeling, into his touch, into something that would make me feel good for a while instead of awful.
So I pressed his hand between my thighs, and I let the desire bloom through my core and spread outward as his thumb started to work my clit, then his fingers slipped inside of me.
“Is this what you want?” he asked, his lips teasing over my ear. “Or do you want more?”
I didn’t even need to think about it.
“More.”
We were moving then, shifting positions so that I was straddling him in the water, his hand still between my thighs.
Arms going around his neck, I pressed our chests together as my lips landed on his.
Slow and soft and sweet at first, just needing the closeness and comfort, but getting harder and needier as each moment passed, as the need grew in my body.
His fingers worked me and my hips rocked against his motions, begging for more. But it wasn’t enough.
It was never going to be enough.
Not until I felt him inside of me again.
“Massimo,” I murmured against his lips.
“Yeah?”