“I never rescue anyone,” he whispers. His mouth tastes of vanilla from the cognac and the pungent aroma of the liquor swirls around us as his lips claim mine, harshly.
I’d pull away, afraid this will turn rough, but he slides his hand up my sweater, loosening my bra and freeing my breast. He pulls the sweater over my head and my blonde hair tumbles around my bare shoulders.
He nuzzles my neck and his essence washes over me, a virile man looking to mate. He runs his tongue down my neck, nibbling as he goes which sends shivers up my spine. I close my eyes and feel his hot breath on my skin, the skin between my voluptuous breasts. I arch slightly, willing him to take me. The anticipation of his next move is driving me insane. I’m tempted to open my eyes and watch him but find it more exciting not knowing where he’ll go next.
“Ah,” is my surprised reaction when his lush lips devour my nipple. His fingers play with the other nipple, gentle at first, then give it a tweak. I gasp and arch back but he’s still holding my head and limiting my movement.
The chemistry between us creates an eruption like Mt. Etna with hot lava flowing between my thighs but I want it to be his cum as he claims me as his.
I’m immobile. Subjected to his control and desires, I can’t deny my own rapid heartbeat and my arms are around his neck as I feverishly return his kisses.
My body melts into him from the heat of our spontaneous foreplay. I tip my face towards his to get more, as needy as a junkie looking for their next fix. He is the nectar of the gods, created for women to swoon at his feet and birth warriors for him.
I’m lost between the rush of adrenaline and blood pounding through my veins. He pulls me to his broad chest, a chest I can’t get to with all these damn buttons in my way. Why does he always wear impossible clothing?
Fuck that. I can’t prolong the inevitable. I grab his dress shirt and rip it open. Buttons fly across the room. Before they can hit the floor, I’m sucking on his neck and feeling his abs under my fingertips. Months of pinning away for him make it impossible for me to refuse him.
I’m putty, powerless against him. I can’t hold back and tug at his chest hair, then run my fingers through it, reaching his nipples, rolling them between my first finger and thumb, harder and harder until he releases a moan.
I let up, rubbing my palms gently over his nipples before I move them up to his shoulders. Raking my nails gently down his back digging into him, and then gently over the same area as my fingertips caress the craters as they move up to his neck again. I can’t miss the goose bumps under my fingertips that cover his skin.
I run my hands across the top of his back, urgently exploring it until I hit resistance. Scars. I move slower, tracing the lines of the raised skin as I peer into his eyes. Yes, he’s lost men he’s loved like brothers. As young as he is, he’s had more experience in life than most his age in his line of work.
He’s an expert at everything he does, a perfectionist. Someone who always wants more. Will I be enough for him?
Perspiration builds on the nape of my neck as we hold each other, locked together like a puzzle, and needing the other to complete the final spot that is empty, like our hearts... His eyes mirror my own, exposing a vulnerable soul. It’s as if he’s known me forever. We’re both still, no words can explain what passes between us.
“I’m afraid,” I whisper against his neck.
“Of what?” His voice is raspy, uneven.
“Of losing myself in you and never finding me.” My breath catches in my throat.
“I won’t let you lose your way,” he promises.
I blink my eyes, holding back the mist, but one tear escapes. He kisses it away, like he’s done it a million times, but I know better. He’s a loner, a killer, a man without attachments.
He gingerly drops kisses over my face, then my neck. Running one hand down my arm, he takes my manicured hand and sucks on my first finger, then the next, circling his tongue around each one as if it is my clit.
Massimo pulls away and the brief fear he’ll leave me is dispelled as he stands to shuck his shoes, pants, socks, and boxers.
His heart, soul and body naked stands before me.
For months he had no contact with me. I thought the rejection would make me hate him but all it did was make me want him more. Did he do that on purpose? I built him up in my mind, the hero complex alive and well.
I tell myself not to want him. There is no way I’m going to risk my heart on this man, one who uses a blade and his hands to kill for me. I don’t know who he is, or what he does. His life—still a mystery.
Naked in front of me, he pulls me to him, undressing me as my jeans and panties join his on the floor. He swoops me up in his arms and carries me up the long staircase to his room. It’s as if the beast has claimed his princess at last.
23
Massimo
Icarry Valentina to my room upstairs. My arms hold her like she’s as precious as a valuable gem, and although she’s light, she’s not frail. Her hair tumbles onto the pillow as I lay her on my bed.
“Don’t move.” I light a candle on my nightstand for ambient glow.
I sense her checking me out before I turn back to her.