“We need condoms,” he said.
She shook her head. “I haven’t been with anyone for years.”
Jessie only had sex with two men. It had always been quick, nothing special, but she had a feeling sex with Sergio would be explosive. Their chemistry was off-the-charts.
“I’m clean,” he said. “I get tested every six months. Wait here. The latest results are on my phone.”
“There’s no need. I trust you,” she simply said.
Sergio penetrated her. He blanketed his body over hers and took her mouth. His dick felt huge inside her. He took his time, sheathing himself inside her. She moaned into his mouth. It felt like he was splitting her open, but he didn’t push inside her right away. He took careful pains not to hurt her, she realized. Once Sergio buried himself balls deep inside her, her breathing returned to normal.
“Good girl,” he murmured against her ear. She blushed. “You have no idea how good and tight your cunt feels.”
He began to move, steady and slow strokes at first before building momentum. Jessie soon forgot the initial pain. She started to touch the ink on his chest, but he held her hands captive above her head, restraining her. He fingered the scars on her wrists. A thrill slipped down her spine. Her pulse raced as he took her mouth again. He fucked her faster, deeper. Her breasts and aching nipples constantly rubbed against his hard chest. Sergio drowned her, but it didn’t matter because she didn’t need air.
Each time their bodies connected, it felt like he was able to touch the most intimate part of her—her damaged soul maybe. He shifted the angle of his hips, hitting her G-spot. Jessie gasped, arching her back.
Sergio slipped his dick out only to slam back in, making sure to brush against her clit every single time. The next time he sheathed himself inside her, she shattered. She screamed out his name. Her mind flew twenty thousand feet in the air.
Several thrusts later, Sergio emptied his warmth inside her pussy. He collapsed next to her on the table, spent like she was.
He recovered first and helped her up to her feet, which was good because Jessie could barely stand upright. Sergio ushered her to the bathroom and right under the shower.
Jessie didn’t think the two of them could fit inside the shower, but they somehow managed. She rested her head against the curve of his shoulder as hot water cleansed their bodies, luxuriating in the feel of his soapy hands on her body. They didn’t speak the entire time. There was no need to. Then Sergio turned the water off. As Jessie stepped out of the cubicle, he toweled her dry with a towel.
“You’re being so sweet,” she said.
“No one’s ever called me that.”
They didn’t bother with clothes. Usually, Sergio took the couch and Jessie the bed, but tonight, it looked like they were about to break more rules. Relief filled her. It had been a little lonely, having the queen-sized bed to herself. She told him this as they climbed into the sheets.
“Then from tonight onward, I’ll keep you company,” he said. He didn’t seem to mind as she settled herself against his chest. He ran his hand down her arm. Sergio fingered the scars again.
“Are you going to ask me about them?”
“Not if you’re not ready to tell me.”
During the short time they spent together, he had slowly opened up to her. Sergio told her about his family, his past. She didn’t think anyone else had been privy to his secrets. Like her, Sergio had been a loner. Sure, he’d been part of the Rossi Family, but from his stories, she gathered he usually worked alone.
“There’s nothing much to tell,” she admitted. “I tried to slit my wrists in the bathtub six months after my mother committed suicide. It turned out I didn’t have to guts to go through with it.”
Sergio held her close, his big and strong arms warm around her body. He didn’t interrupt her once.
“I ended up calling nine-one-one. I didn’t even cut deep enough.” She let out a bitter laugh. “I hate them. The scars, I mean. Every time I see them, I’m reminded of my failure, my weakness.”
“You’re not weak, if you were, you wouldn’t be able to stomach a man like me.”
Jessie began to trace the whorl of black ink down his chest, his wolf tattoo. “Oh, I don’t know. You’re not so bad, Sergio Castello.”
He smirked at her, then his expression turned serious. “I’m not placating you, Jessie. You’re a fucking survivor. Be proud of that.”
“I’m only alive today, thanks to you. If you didn’t come for me, I’d be joining my mother in the dirt.”
He kissed her on the mouth, slow and sweet. Jessie decided she liked all of Sergio, both the vicious killer and the tender lover that shared the same body. Other women might call Sergio complicated, but to Jessie, he’d always be hers.
“I’ll never let anything bad happen to you.” His words sounded like a promise.
“I know. That’s why I’m not worried about the future.”