Stephanie
We speed across town, neither of us talking much.
Tonight went nothing like I wanted.
This was supposed to be the night where my father, the man who has always been by my side met and accepted the only other man in my life who’s managed to make me feel as special and loved.
Instead, they hate each other.
“It’ll be all right, bella,” he says, reaching over to touch my hair. There’s so much unwavering confidence in his voice that it makes me start to believe that what he’s saying is true. “Tonight was just one of those nights. But no matter what, I still love you, and your father will come around.”
“Was it true?” I say quietly, staring out the window at the swirling light and darkness.
It’s started to rain. Big, fat droplets that splash against the windows and refract the light from the streetlamps, making the world seem twisted and distorted, like some kind of dark dream.
I’m already running over tonight’s events in my head. There’s so much to take in, from the fabulous dinner where Luca made me feel like I was the most important woman in town, to meeting my dad, who took to Luca like oil to water and who was as coldly furious as I’ve ever seen him.
And, of all of it, one thing keeps sticking in my mind.
Luca keeps talking like he hasn’t noticed I’m not answering. He’s driving slower than usual, his eyes slowly scanning the darkness, looking around each turn. He must be lost in his own thoughts, too.
“I don’t blame him. I know I don’t look like the kind of man you want coming through your door holding your daughter’s hand.”
“Luca, was it true?”
He doesn’t look away from the road, though we’re on a long straightaway with no cars in sight. “Was what true?”
“About your brother. All those things you said.”
There’s a long quiet, the kind of quiet that makes me think he didn’t hear me and just when I’m about to repeat what I’ve said, he finally talks.
“My brother’s my hero. He was six years older than me and, when my dad let us all down, he was the one that picked our family up on his shoulders and carried us until I was big enough to help out. He did everything,” he says. His eyes are wide and his pupils dilated, like he’s looking through the darkness at something else.
“Before he took his own life, Nico made some mistakes, did some things that he just could not shake. It fucked him up and that’s what pushed him over the edge. He wanted me to get out before I fell, too. He was a better person than me,” he says.
“I’m sorry,” I say.
“There’s a lot of days where I think he was wrong. Where I think what he wanted and believed is bullshit, that people can’t change — that I’m not going to change,” he says, still staring ahead. Then, he looks over at me. “I don’t have those days as much since I met you.”
The car pulls to a stop in front of his apartment build and there’s a quiet, weighty thud against the back seat, like something heavy rolling around in the trunk. I turn my head, just slightly to look back, and then Luca reaches out, taking hold of me by the chin.
“Meeting you has given me a reason to change. I won’t let anything or anyone stop that. Because you’ve given me a purpose. I love you, Stephanie.”
I forget about anything and everything as he kisses me, his searing lips purging all my thoughts in heat. Doubt gives way to desire and I reach up with my own hands, embracing him, pulling him closer to me.
This is as close as I’ve ever been with anyone. He’s given me his innermost thoughts and desires, he’s shown me what he is truly about even though a big part of tonight went so totally wrong.
He loves me. I love him.
A rampaging, thudding drum beats a rapid rhythm in my chest and I’m short of breath when he finally pulls back and fixes me with a megawatt smile. “Let’s go inside.”
* * * * *
We don’t even make it in the building before I’m on him again.
I can’t keep my hands to myself. This handsome, powerful, charming man has had every reason and right to walk away from me, but instead, he keeps coming back for more.
He tries to open the door to the building and the second his back is turned, I see my opportunity. A hard pinch — well, more like a grab, really — to his firm ass gets him to look over his shoulder and I pounce on him, laughing, pressing him against the wall.
He doesn’t fight. Much.
I kiss him and I reach around his back, un-tucking his shirt and running my hands the bare skin of his muscular back. It’s like every part of him is magnetic and I absolutely need to touch all of him right this minute.
He stops trying to open the door. He stops even trying to pretend to open it.
I’m the focus of his lips, his touch, his desire.
I was the aggressor at first, seizing him, kissing him, but now he just overpowers me.
He grabs my wrists and wrenches them behind my back, growling while he nips at my neck and shoulders. I arch my back, pushing myself further against him. His cock is thick and hard in his slacks and pressing firm against my hip.
He shoves me against the wall and grinds into me.
I shut my eyes, overwhelmed by the sensation of him rawly and forcefully kissing and exploring every part of my exposed neck and chest like he wants to eat me alive.
One hand lets go of me and brushes my leg, sliding up and moving my dress aside.
I shiver as he lightly brushes me through the bare, hardly-there panties I only wore because I knew we’d be meeting my dad after dinner and I wanted to seem modest.
“Are you ready? I want you now, Stephanie.”
My eyes shoot open.
He stares right into my eyes, devouring me with his gaze, while he pops one finger into his mouth.
“What if someone sees?”
“Lucky them.”
We’re right on his doorstep. There’s a pub just down the street and, even though it’s late, there’s still people out and about.
“Shouldn’t we go inside?”
“I don’t care. I’ve been thinking about this all fucking day. I want you like I’ve wanted nothing else in my life.”
I try to say something — anything — but I barely part my lips before I feel him slip inside my pussy and then my fumbled protests become a loud, drawn-out moan.
Luca slowly gets to his knees. His hot breath teases my pussy and my body aches for what I know is coming next.
“I can’t wait to make you moan.”
First he kisses me on the lower thigh. Tender, slow, he takes his time teasing me. Then up, up, up until I can feel his hot breath against my pussy and every single part of me is begging and crying out to feel his lips where I need it most.
It starts with a lick. A gentle caress from his tongue that barely grazes me, yet is still enough to make my knees bend and my fingers knot themselves in my dress.
“Fuck, Luca.”
I manage to look down and the sight of him, burning green eyes looking up at me, with this confident smirk on his face while his tongue slowly moves to caress me again, is enough to make me pound the wall.
“You’re sweeter and sexier than any woman I’ve ever now,” he says, still staring up at me. “I could spend all night down here and die a happy man.”
I force my eyes open even though the pleasure washing over me is so intense that it almost hurts.
I want to watch him.
The power and confidence that seems to radiate off him is so sexy. Right here, practically right out in the open, he doesn’t even hesitate to kneel down and take what he wants: me.
His lips surround my clit, coaxing it to full arousal with a gentle suck.
He moans. He moans and I feel every vibration deep within my being.
“I could do this every day,” he whispers.
Then comes his tongue, working with his lips to pull and suck and caress me where I need it most.
Warmth and tingling suffuses my entire body and my hips start moving on their own, swaying and rocking in time with his rhythm.
He waits until I’m into it and then he pauses again, teasing me, leaving my body tingling and wanting more.
He looks up at me with this cocky grin.
“You’re mine, Stephanie,” he says. “My desire, my fantasy, the one I love, the one I lust for, the one I want more than anything else.”
His words, his tongue, his finger, his lips, all propel me higher. It’s like I’m floating, suspended on this ever-rising wave of heat and sensuality.
And then I fall.
I break.
“Luca,” I start to say and then words fail me.
All I can do is shudder and moan.
Sucking, licking, caressing, he brings me down to shatter in this primal explosion of pure ecstasy. My nerves catch fire, my muscles contract and relax and contract again, and I slump forward.
He catches me, holding me upright, back against the wall as he continues to please me.
He won’t let me go until he’s satisfied.
My body is thrumming and fluttering with the most exquisite electric sensation.
It takes forever before I’m back to myself.
The feeling of anything touching me, brushing me, is enough to make me shake and shiver.
Luca pulls back and somehow I’m able to stand on my own.
“That was… that was incredible,” I say, breathlessly.
There’s a devilish smirk on his face. He knows. There was never a shred of doubt in his mind that it would be anything but incredible. He owns my body.
“We’re not done yet,” he says.
Crooking his fingers, he slips them under the waistband of my panties and pulls them down.
“Right here?”
I know what he wants. But there’s something about doing it right here that seems so much more public than what we just did.
He shakes his head. “I want you now.”
He undoes his zipper.
“What if someone sees?” I ask again.
Luca lifts my dress. His fingertips draw burning trails up the back of my legs before digging in to cup my ass.
He grabs and holds me like he owns me.
“I don’t give a damn,” he says, his voice a guttural growl.
He enters me.
The world goes black. Explosions of color burst behind my eyelids and without even realizing it, I’m groaning loud enough for the neighbors to hear.
So much for modesty.
I can feel every inch of him. Hard and thick and pulsing with lust and his cocky, ‘fuck the world’ attitude.
Strong hands hold me in place, keeping me standing just so, while he takes me.
My body shakes.
Every single thrust rocks my body.
He’s not gentle. He doesn’t hold back.
It’s the kind of dark, unrestrained lustful fucking you save for the object of your deepest fantasies.
I’m his fantasy.
I arch my back. I start pushing, pulsing my hips backwards.
My hushed breathing echoes his.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Stephanie,” he gasps. “Jesus fucking Christ.”
I smile. I don’t know what comes over me, but I’m so caught up in how bold and fucking fearless he is, that I can’t hold back.
“I’m yours, Luca. Fuck me like you mean it.”
He pulls out and whips me around, bringing me face to face with him. With one arm, he lifts one of my legs and then he positions himself between them.
I gasp and dig my nails into his back and hold on for dear life as he slides into me again.
We stare into each other’s eyes. Unspeaking, letting our intertwined bodies do all the taking.
I feel, I see, I know just how deeply he wants me.
“Stephanie,” he says, each syllable coming out in a delicious broken gasp.
My body is flush and wet with exertion, but I force my uncooperative hands to lock tighter around his back and I pull myself closer to whisper in his ear. “I’m yours. All of me. Now give me what I want.”
Luca lets loose a slow, smoldering sigh of satisfaction and I feel him lose himself within me. Every twitch, every shudder and shake and shiver inside me is so validating and rewarding that I start giggling uncontrollably.
It’s weird, I know, and as soon as he manages to get control over himself, he gives me a funny look.
Which makes me laugh even more.
“What are you going on about?”
“Us,” I answer.
He shakes his head but doesn’t say anything.
I just feel so close to him. Even with the dark patches in his life, he’s been fearless in letting me in, in letting me find out who he is and what he’s about. To know that he can overcome his issues and that he’ll be by my side while I battle my own problems gives me hope.
It makes me feel brave.
“I’m crazy for you, you know that, right?” I say.
I know he knows, but I just love saying it.
“Nothing makes me happier.”
And I love hearing him answer just as much.
A wave of dizziness hits me and I realize just how exhausted I am. Physically and emotionally, I’m so drained I can barely keep myself standing.
“Just relax,” he whispers as he picks me up like I’m light as a feather.
This time, he manages to open the door.
My eyes shut and I drift to sleep before we’re halfway up the stairs.
* * * * *
Warm sunlight beams through the window to pry my tired eyelids apart. Smelling like sex, with a satisfied tiredness that goes through me all the way to the bone, I somehow manage to pull myself to my feet.
I’m still wearing last nights dress. It’s rumpled and wrinkled and smells like sex. I’m going to have to get it dry cleaned and I can just imagine the look I’ll get from the cleaners. It’s obvious what happened to it.
Across the room, I see my panties wadded up in a ball on the coffee table.
But I don’t care about any of that, really.
Next to me, Luca’s asleep. He’s naked, a relaxed mound of muscles and tattoos and scars. There’s a peaceful smile on his face and, for once, he looks content.
I stretch.
Holy crap, I’m sore.
My legs are screaming at me with every step I take. Apparently, having sex while standing on one leg is a better workout than I thought. We’ll have to do it more often.
And when you wake up while your hot, muscled boyfriend is carrying you to bed and decide you want to go another couple rounds before calling it a night? All while still in your dress?
Yeah, also a good workout. It also means you’re going to be sore as hell in the morning.
It hurts too much to stand and, as tired as I am, I decide it’d be a better idea to sit down and just enjoy the moment. I know Luca will be awake soon; the last time I slept over, he was up early enough to go next door to the bakery for coffee and pastries.
I look at him.
This is the first time I’ve really looked at him, all of him, in the light of day. Every other time, he’s been either in his gym clothes or I’ve only been able to see him by the dim light of the moon.
My eyes trace the stunning lines of his body. He is just brilliantly hot. Muscles in perfect proportion, toned and sculpted, not too big, yet big enough that they just exude power.
My mind idly wanders to last night. The dinner. How confident he looked as we walked into the restaurant, like he knew that he owned the place and how everyone knew it too. He spent an unfathomable amount of money yesterday, all for me. He spent all that time and effort, too, just for me.
We went from that high, to meeting my dad.
Almost unbidden, my dad’s warning pops to mind.
Luca shifts, rolling onto his stomach.
There’s a wicked scar there. Long and thin and snakelike on his upper-back. It’s old, faded, but even now I can tell it must’ve hurt beyond belief. It looks like someone tortured him, taking time to dice him with casual precision.
A reminder of his violent past.
I force myself to look away, to somewhere else on his body. I don’t like to think about him being hurt.
Above his right shoulder-blade, there’s a crude tattoo. Small, shakily-drawn like the kind I’d find whenever the ER took in anyone who’d spent time behind bars — which happened pretty often, especially on the night shift. Two words run across the top of the tattoo: Inesorabile Morte. Beneath it, there’s a series of small, poorly-drawn crucifixes, like a tally. Almost two dozen.
I know what those mean.
I don’t want to admit it to myself, but I know.
My stomach sinks, plummeting to the lowest parts of my being as my blood turns to ice.
I hear my father’s words again.
I turn away and stand up. Holding my breath, clenching my jaw to keep myself from making any noise.
The only sound is the quiet click of the door latching behind me.
I run.