I do know, and I’m glad for it. That feels strange. I didn’t know I was capable of wishing for someone’s death.
“I can’t leave,” I say, without emotion. I’ve thought about this a million times before, and I’ve always come to the same conclusion. I can’t leave my family. My mother hasn’t left her bed since all this started. She’s had clinical depression my whole life, and at all times it’s seemed she’s one tragedy away from giving up. I won’t leave her knowing it may kill her. I won’t leave my father either. Despite everything.
“Of course you c—”
“No. I can’t.”
Settimo must hear the finality in my tone because he lets out a long breath and slumps against the desk.
“What did you want to talk to me about?” he asks.
I take a deep breath and stand up straight. “Well,” I begin. “It’s probably a moot point now, but I wanted you to know I won’t be seeing you again. I can’t do anything else for you. Speaking to Nikita was hard enough.”
Settimo raises a brow. “You came here, to my home, to see me… so that you could tell me you can’t see me?” A small smirk plays on his lips. “Really?”
My face gets hot, but I keep my shoulders squared. “Yes.”
He pushes off the desk and takes slow steps toward me. When he’s inches away, he tucks my hair behind my ear, and I breathe in his scent. I can’t help myself.
“I’m glad.” He smiles at me and caresses my cheek with his knuckles. “I wanted to see you one last time too.”
Before I can respond to that, he bends down and kisses me hard on the lips. I consider fighting it, breaking away and telling him I didn’t come here for this. This wasn’t my intention. But I’d be lying to myself. He’s right, I could’ve easily called. Or texted. Or simply not done anything and prayed he would leave me alone. But I wanted to see him one last time.
I flatten my palms against his chest and tilt my head up for him. My lips part, and his tongue finds mine. He tastes so good. Like peppermint brandy. And his smell… I wish I could take this smell with me.
I wish I could takehimwith me. Or stay here with him. I wish time would freeze so nothing in this shitty, fucked up world would matter.
Settimo’s hands slide to my hips, and he squeezes as he lifts me. I cup his face, my hands grazing his five o’clock shadow. He carries me to his desk and places me on the edge. One hand is in my hair while the other knocks things off the desk and sends them crashing to the floor.
He squeezes my breasts and breaks the kiss. He runs his tongue over my earlobe, and I gasp when he grazes me with his teeth. My core heats and my heavy breaths turn to pants. I hop off the desk, and Settimo spins me around. He pushes my shoulders, and I hunch forward, flattening my palms on the desk.
If we were smart, we would take this slow. Make it last. But there’s an urgency we both must feel. I need himnow,and if I let myself question my actions even for a moment, I might change my mind. Maybe it would make my chest hurt less when I walk out of here.
He drags down my dress’s zipper and yanks the black material down my body. I step out of it and moan when Settimo’s hand cups my sex.
“This is always gonna be mine,” he says, his voice heady. He pulls my thighs apart and swirls his finger in my sex, sliding into me a few times and making me moan. He gathers some of my juices and glides a finger up to the only place he hasn’t taken yet. “But I want this too.”
He rubs the liquid onto the tight ring of muscles then eases his finger inside of me. I gasp and knock a pen holder off his desk. I don’t fight him as he glides his finger in and out of me. I don’t want to. Iwanthim to have every part of me. It feels like he already does.
He moves his free hand to my sex and rubs my clit. His movements start out slow but become more and more urgent. The more he rubs, the less intrusive his finger feels. His hand is slick against me, and he pulls his finger out to gather more of my arousal.
His belt buckle jingles behind me, and a minute later, his cock pushes between my legs and slides over my slit. He presses the head of his cock against my ass, and I inhale a sharp breath.
“Relax, baby.”
Settimo slowly fits himself inside me, going a centimeter at a time before pausing for me to adjust. My teeth sink into my lip, but I hold in my groans. It hurts. Settimo’s cock must be five times the size of his finger, but it isn’t bad enough for me to tell him to stop.
His hands are busy holding my hips, so I snake my own beneath me and rub my clit. It amazes me that Settimo could somehow know my body better than me because when he does it, it feels better. Still, this works. My teeth free my lip, and a low moan crawls from my throat. I rub faster, and my body begins to relax.
Settimo guides himself in and out of me, and the aching mixes with pleasure until I can’t feel the ache anymore. His thrusts quicken, and I grip the edge of his desk.
He lets go of my hips with one hand and moves it underneath me. He shoves my hand out of the way and works me. My mouth hangs open, and I bang my hand on the desk.
“Fuck,” I moan, squeezing my eyes shut. Tension builds in my core, and I can feel myself at the tip of the roller coaster, that moment of zero gravity reaching the peak, just before I catapult down.
Settimo pauses while I come. My muscles squeeze him, and he groans.
When I come down, I feel like a wet rag that’s just been wrung out. I rest my forehead against the desk and wait for Settimo to begin thrusting again, but he doesn’t. He eases himself out of me then takes me into his arms and guides me to the floor. I lay on my back and latch my fingers into his hair while he lays himself on top of me and slides his cock into my pussy.