“We’ll have to give you the chance.”
“You want to keep me barefoot and pregnant, is that it? Chained to the stove?”
His smile widens. “Using a chain just long enough that you can make it to the bedroom.” I almost choke on my eggs, and he laughs softly. “I used to hear that one sometimes, growing up.”
“Let me guess. One of your grandfather’s pearls of wisdom.”
“Yes, actually. I did hear that from him.”
“He was a charmer.”
He nods, smirking. “He had his good points, too. I know that might not be easy for you to accept, but he was a good man in his own way.” He’s still grieving, so I’m not going to argue. I find it hard to believe that man had a shred of goodness in him, no matter how many diamonds he gave me for my wedding.
“Like I said, I didn’t know him like you do, so it’s easier for me to imagine he would make a move like that. If he knew he was dying—” he flinches, and I hate to see it “—and I’m sure if he was as devoted to your family as I think he was, he’d want to find a way to make his death benefit you somehow.”
He stares down at his now empty plate, his fists sitting on either side. “And he never thought about what that would mean or how it would make me feel. Witnessing his assassination.”
True, and I can’t get past that part, either. Talk about cold-blooded. But still… “He knew you could handle it. He knew you would do the right thing when the time came, and you have. I’m sure he would be proud of the way you’ve handled all of this.” I take his plate and mug and put them in the sink along with mine.
He’s still sitting at the table when I turn around, and I go to him, placing my hand on the back of his neck. “I wish he hadn’t done it this way,” I whisper. “And I’m sorry he did. But he knew you could handle it. He trusted you. He believed you could lead this family.”
He turns in his chair all at once and winds his arms around my waist, resting the side of his face against my stomach. It takes my breath away, how suddenly it happens, how my heart swells, how joy fills me. I take the chance of running my fingers through his hair, and when he doesn’t pull away, I close my eyes and focus on soaking in the moment, not pushing anything, just being here. Right now, there’s nothing but the two of us holding each other, and nothing in the world has ever felt so good. Like this is how it’s meant to be, the way it’s supposed to be for us. Holding each other, taking refuge in each other when we need to.
It isn’t long before something else flares to life, and all it takes is the slightest shift of his hands over my back. The way his fingers press in with need before he lifts his head, staring up at me. He pushes his chair back but remains seated, pulling me around in front of him between his spread thighs.
He nudges me back slightly, and I follow his lead, sitting on the edge of the table. For a while, it’s enough for him to just touch me, neither of us saying a word. I lean back on my elbows and watch him as he works my nightshirt over my thighs. The familiar heat is there, sure—it takes nothing for him to wake my body up. There’s more to it, though, a tenderness I’ve never felt from him. Not now, not while he’s touching me and kissing his way up the insides of my legs. There isn’t that sense of demand or ownership. As much as I like it when he takes me forcefully, I like this, too. I could learn to love it.
I hold my arms out to him because there’s nothing I want more now than to hold him. To touch him. I can’t put a finger on why or where any of this is coming from exactly. Maybe it’s all the feelings I’ve had for him all along coming to the surface, rushing forward now that all the walls between us have crumbled. All the pent-up, held-back emotion is free, and we have so much time to make up for. It’s scary, giving into this, letting myself feel this way. I don’t know whether this is going to end up hurting me worse than ever, opening myself and letting him into my heart. I only know nothing could stop me.
I could scream with happiness when he stands and lowers himself over me. Instead, I sit up and wrap my legs around him while my arms do the same. He buries his hands in my hair and covers my mouth with his, kissing me deeply before breaking the kiss and tipping my head back so his lips can trail over my throat.
“Oh, Enzo…” I breathe, and he shudders when the evidence of his arousal makes contact with my aching pussy. I can’t get enough of touching him, my hungry hands running over his shoulders and back, over his ass, anything I can reach. It’s the sweetest indulgence, made sweeter when he teases my breast with one hand. He groans, and so do I, both of us grinding our hips, gently humping each other.
He lifts his head just far enough to meet my gaze and what I see there makes my heart skip a beat. “Alicia…” he whispers, already breathless, his voice already strained. I tighten my legs, drawing him closer, and he sighs before capturing my mouth again, plunging his tongue inside, enfolding me in his arms. I moan into his mouth, and he responds in kind, the pressure from his dick increasing. It’s so sweet and so hot at the same time. My pussy is aching to the point of pain, and wetness flows from me in anticipation of what’s about to happen.
He pulls my panties to the side and frees himself with the other hand. I gasp, straining against him when he drags his head through my wetness. I’ve never needed anything so much as I need him right now.
And he rolls his hips and fills me all at once. I could scream, I could cry. I could roar out my triumph because this is what I needed. The two of us locked together like this, moving as one. I needed him staring deep into my eyes as he connects us again and again, his lips brushing over mine, our breath mingling between us as the heat builds and grows. As he touches me deep inside, so deep. Every time he grinds against my clit, he pushes me higher until there’s nothing that matters but the tension building in my core and what I see in his eyes. Something I always wanted to see, something I wished so hard was there. I see it now, and my heart is so full, swelling, making it difficult to breathe.
I’m going to come. I feel it, just beyond my fingertips. I cling to him, and he holds me close, rocking me slowly, every stroke bringing me closer to the edge. And when I fall to pieces, it’s in his arms, shaking and moaning his name.
I’m still trembling from the aftershocks when he pulls out. My heart sinks a little until he holds out his hand. “Come with me.” I place my hand in his and put my feet on the floor, ready to follow him anywhere. Only my legs are still a little shaky, so he takes pity, lifting me in his arms and carrying me through the kitchen, the living room, then up the stairs. He doesn’t say a word. I don’t need him to.
Instead of taking me to my room, he walks passed the open door and to his suite, where he sits me down on the bench at the foot of the bed and drops to his knees. Now he undresses me, his hands roaming my body as he lifts the nightshirt over my head, then lowers my panties. He kisses his way up my body, and I lean back until my head is on the bed. He buries his face between my breasts, and I hold him there, whimpering, moaning out my pleasure. Pleasure he gives me, lapping at me, teasing my nipples with his tongue and even his teeth, then moving farther up to my throat and finally my mouth.
He plunges his tongue inside again, in time with his dick entering me. He takes it slow, almost torturing me with every inch he gives me, then takes away. I tease him back with my tongue, breaking our kiss to flick the tip over his lips until he groans helplessly. His eyes open and lock on mine, and a shudder runs through me, curling my toes. I close my legs behind him, pulling him deeper, demanding more. More of him, more of this, more of us.
The familiar pressure is starting to build again, the unbearable tension, and I want him to come with me. I move my hips, grinding them with every stroke, every time our bodies connect. He picks up his pace, and I know he’s getting close, too. I run my hands through his hair, gasping every time he drives himself into me harder, faster. “Come with me…” I gasp, so close.
“Look at me. Just at me.” With his face inches from mine, he stares into my eyes, and I do the same, lost in him, lost in this. I’m torn between craving release and hoping this never ends.
But it’s going to end, and soon, the tension is building until I can’t take it. I want to come—I chase it. I need it. I need to come in his arms again.
And when my whimpers turn to cries, he follows me until the wave builds to its peak—then crashes, leaving me sobbing his name as delicious waves roll through me. He buries himself deep, grunting out his release and filling me with his cum. It leaks out between us, but he doesn’t pull away, holding us together, breathing hard against my neck, pressing his lips to my skin again and again.
“Alicia… oh God…” he groans. I only smile, nuzzling him, holding him close. So close.
If we have nothing else, we have this. And I intend to hold on for as long as I can.