Cabin Fever

by Shani Greene-Dowdell et al.

  Letting her go. I see a war between victory and disappointment before confusion takes over.

  “What?”

  “I said you’re right, Elissa. We don’t owe each other the courtesy of checking before deciding to date. I was the one on the wrong page. You can go back to your readers.” I step around her and walk to the door. “I’d gotten a few numbers when I returned home; I’ll be sure to give them a call since you set me straight.”

  The same anger and jealousy I felt flashes over her face, and she’s stopping me before I can reach the door. She’s pulling on my arm, as the anger radiates over her body.

  “What do you mean numbers?”

  I grab her by the shoulders, forcing her to look me in the eyes.

  “You don’t fucking like it, do you?” She doesn’t have time to answer. I kiss her with every ounce of vexation I’ve felt since I’d hung up on her. She’s panting when I pull away.

  “Stop hiding behind bullshit excuses. You knew exactly what you were doing. Don’t fucking play games with me, Elissa.” I make sure we’re eye to eye when I tell her the next part. “I’m competitive as hell; I’ll play your game like a master and make it fucking hurt. Capisce?”

  Sitting in a nearby chair, I pull her into my lap, flipping her until her ass is exposed. She wiggles but I have her locked into place. I slowly rub my palms over her ass cheeks, relishing the smooth softness of her skin until she’s squirming for a different reason.

  “This is my last time asking you. How many dates?”

  Chapter 20

  Elissa

  Okay, Luca is crazy as hell, and I must be crazy, too because I’m turned on far more than I thought was humanly possible. I don’t know if it’s him or the new set of hormones, but I’m going to take a stab in the dark and say both. I’ve been ridiculously horny lately and seeing my favorite dick ever—stalking toward me with murder in his eyes—almost made me cum on the spot. Yes, I’m an independent woman, hear me roar and all that jazz, but this version of Luca is my ultimate wet dream. Maybe I need help. The part of me that should be outraged and embarrassed with how he pulled me out of the book signing appears to be on vacation.

  “Four,” I admit.

  I flinch when his hand connects with my ass. The sting shocks me for a second then sends low-level pleasure through my body. Luca is dangerous. His following me to the states to confront me isn’t the problem. Luca is dangerous because he’s a man who’s read my books and digested it for their essence. He’d noticed and understood that what he was reading were my deep, dark, and dirty fantasies laid bare for the world. That’s why he scared me. It wasn’t obvious then, but my subconscious knew he’d seen me. Not only did he see me, he liked it. No, he wasn’t just sliding into my DM’s to tell me 'hello.' Luca was saying, "I know what you like and I’m willing to deliver."

  The next two smacks follow in rapid succession, but the pleasure is more intense and lingers. Luca made sure his fingertips slip over the exposed parts of my pussy. This too was a scene from one of my books.

  “You want the last two, baby?” He teases me with his question and fingers.

  “Two? You’ve already hit me three times.”

  “You’re getting extra for making me fly here. I will add more if you complain. Do you want the last two?”

  “Yes.”

  “Aht. Aht. Answer me correctly.”

  Fuck. Now I need to remember what I wrote.

  “Yes, sir. Please brand me with your hand.”

  He delivers the fourth, but his fingers slide inside of me, enough to drive me crazy but not get anything I need from it. The last is the hardest and most pleasurable. Lucas fingers slip all the way inside this time, my wetness makes sloshing sounds as he finger fucks me from behind. I moan low, loving the feeling but needing much, much more. He knows it. Luca wasn’t playing when he declared that I’d beg for it. He craves hearing it as much as I want the words to flavor my lips. Seven weeks is a long time to be separated from the thing I desire the most. Judging from the erection digging into my hip, Luca feels the same way. I feel electrocuted by the current of pleasure that jumps through my body when his fingers graze my clit.

  He manipulates me until I'm straddling him. Luca grips my ass and holds me so that my starved pussy is on the covered dick he's denying me. His fingers dig in my hips to the point of pain when I attempt to create my own friction.

  "You haven't earned it yet?" The lust and passion in his hazel eyes is so palpable I feel it with each pass of his gaze.

  I missed him so much, the thought of him leaving again almost chokes me with emotion. Stupid hormones.

  "Undo my tie." His command coupled with his accent makes we want to weep with sexual frustration.

  Doing as I'm told, his tie is loose in seconds, and I await his next instructions.

  Luca let's go of my hips and teases me some more. He grabs my upper thighs and slowly moves them under my dress, dragging his thumbs along my inner thighs.

  "The dress needs to go."

  I assist him with removing it and toss it on the bed. Both hands grab my breasts and squeeze them in the most satisfying yet frustrating way. Luca's finger tracing the line where my boob meets the bra makes me shudder.

  Popping an extra sensitive nipple out, he clamps his hot mouth around it, sucks a little, then flicks it with the tip of his tongue.

  I'm shocked I'm on the verge of cuming from nipple play. My bra takes flight and joins my dress.

  I yelp when he squeezes a nipple too hard.

  "Careful! They're sensitive!"

  Luca's only acknowledgment is his perfect teeth sinking into my nipple. It hurt so fucking good I can't stand him.

  His thumbs take over torturing my nipples as his mouth moves on to my collarbone, neck, and throat. He tugs at my nipples and my hands fly to his wrist to stop him.

  Frowning, Luca shakes my hands away then ties them behind me with his tie.

  "Keep on. I'll punish you longer, then fuck you until you pass out."

  "You can't. I'm pregnant."

  I don't know what my plan was, but blurting that out wasn't it.

  Luca smirks like the devil.

  "Good, now you can sit your ass down and stop trying to date." He pulls me closer, my pussy rocks against his erection. "You're still getting fucked."

  Fuck him and his one-track mind. Why did that make me hotter?

  He pushes me back over his lap and continues his earlier teasing.

  I can’t take his brand of torture anymore.

  “Give it to me, Luca.”

  “That sounds like a demand,” he growls. “Try again.”

  “Fuck me, please.”

  “Boring.”

  He slows his strokes, giving it to me hard and steady. I want to jump out of my skin.

  “Please give me what I need. Fill my pussy. Make it bend to your power. Fuck me so completely until all I can breathe is you. Convert me, Luca, make me worship your body like an altar. Break my mind. Allow people to pass me on the street like I’m crazy due to my tales of your magical dick.”

  Luca squeezes my clit then rubs it with pressure I’ve craved. I whimper my release as I spasm around his fingers. I’m so riled up, I’m literally dizzy with desire.

  We’re up, he secures my hand to a low beam with this tie. I hear his pants unzip and fall before I feel the heat of his body against my back. He props one leg up on the now-vacated chair. I cry out when he slams his dick inside of me. It was without warning, yet everything I wanted and needed. He pumps into me a couple more times before speaking.

  “You wanted a conversation, here it is. Are you allowed to date anyone but me?”

  “No,” my answer is a satisfied yet desperate moan. I can’t concentrate on anything but how his dick infiltrates my body, breaking everything, and rebuilding it as his.

  “Good girl. This pussy was mine the moment I met it. I’m so glad you’re caught up.”

  I feel my juices coating both of us and each thrust gives a lit
tle of my life to him. Luca knows this because he claims me with each thrust.

  “No more dates.” His fingers find my clit again giving me two ways to make me lose my fucking mind.

  “No one touches her, sees her, or even smells her without my permission. Got it.”

  I can’t answer, my jaw is slack from what he’s doing to me. He pulls my head back and takes another kiss.

  “Answer me.”

  “Got...got it.”

  “Does your pussy have an owner?”

  “YES!”

  “Who?”

  “Luca Fucking Girelli.”

  My body is pressed to the wall of the cabin as Luca takes my body exactly where I need it. My walls clamp on his dick as I scream his name.

  “No one else can have it, Elissa. They can’t take care of it like I can.”

  HIs hot cum coats my body, taking me back with him.

  Luca may be my fantasy, but I also need to be his. He may have won the battle, but I’ll get the last word.

  “If no one but you can have my pussy, then no one but me can have your dick.”

  He pulls my head back again and kisses me like it’s the one thing he’ll never get tired of doing.

  “Welcome to my page.”

  Chapter 21

  Elissa

  My dress is wrinkled, my hair is a mess, and my wrists are a little red from his tie, but I cannot wipe the stupid smile off my face. I’m probably so fired from being a featured author, but if I had to choose that or fix things with Luca, I choose Luca. Now, with his child apparently growing in my uterus, getting along with him is extremely important.

  Luca had let me shower first, but I didn’t grab the things I needed to fix my hair. Running my finger through it is my only option. I leave the cabin in my back up dress and finger-combed hair to find Etie heading my way. She looks relieved.

  “Girl, I was scared I was gonna have to break it up and have Luca’s sex-deprived ass trying to fight me.”

  Frowning a little, she uses her fingers to try to adjust my hair.

  “I couldn’t get my comb and stuff out of the bathroom and I need to get back.”

  “I wish I could help but…” She points at her braids. “The Colombian has a soft ass brush. I don’t know what it’s supposed to do. Does the messed up hair mean you two are good?”

  We resume walking back to the main cabin.

  “Yeah, I’m sure we have to talk some more, but it’s a good start.”

  “I bet.” She waggles her brows. “Did you tell him?”

  “Girl, I blurted it out like a crazy person after he spanked me.”

  “Spanked!” She shakes her head. “Focus, Etie,” she whispers to herself. “We’ll get back to that later. What did he say?”

  I roll my eyes. “He said it’s good, so I can sit my ass down and stop trying to date.”

  Etie’s laughter rings out as we approach the main cabin. “Luca is the real MVP. That’s the best reaction I’ve ever heard. I left the hater at your table.”

  “The hater?”

  “Franco. Girl, I saw Luca when he walked in. He did that Italian kiss thingy and told me he liked one of my books. Then, the Colombian gets all huffy telling me to 'come here' in Spanish like I’m the Cisco Kid. I called him over to introduce them, and he snitched on you.”

  “Snitched?”

  “He pointed at your table and said 'you were over there.' Then, grabbed my hand to pull me in the opposite direction which is Colombian—passive-aggressive—for ‘get your fertile ass away from my wife!’” She rolls her eyes, but I can see the amusement on her face. “Anyway, is he coming back out? After your readers got over the shock of your sudden disappearance, they realized your kidnapper was Gio from the cover. They’re in there fangirling.” She pulls open the door. “Be ready for that.”

  ***

  Luca

  I’ve been called ‘Gio’ so many times, I start answering to the damn name. It’s weird being openly fawned over. When I returned, they’d realized that the same guy who practically dragged Elissa away is the same man on the cover of the books they were in line to have signed. My appearance now looks like a stunt for the book. The idea works for Elissa, but I know what really happened. Eventually, I had to sit at the table with her and sign covers.

  What the fuck?

  I did agree to be on the cover, though. It is a nice cover, although I’m aware I am biased. The book does have some of the more forward women looking at me as if they can see through my clothes. Being a book boyfriend is not for the faint of heart.

  Since the women are used to me, and my attention is not being demanded, I’m able to really focus on the news Elissa tossed at me in her cabin.

  Pregnant with my child.

  I don’t have to ask to know I did this. The same zing of fear I felt when she said it shoots through me as we sit down for what I consider an early dinner. At the time of her announcement, I was too horny and too busy making my point to care. I cared, but it wasn’t the highest priority. It’s all I can think about now.

  What if I’m like them?

  Elissa glows as she chats with other people. I lose myself in her beauty for a moment, letting everything else fall away. I love her. It’s not a revelation at this point. My chat with my uncle gave me the insight I needed to know that my jealous tantrum came from that love. I came prepared to fall into the feelings and let her know that I want her more than anything, but there was another surprise waiting for me.

  Can I do this?

  The caterers grab my attention when they start putting out the food. It’s obvious that they weren’t expecting me since I received a few nervous glances from people when they placed a plate of American pasta in front of me—I refuse to call it Italian. Chicken Alfredo, of course. Luckily, I’m not Gio. Gio—someone who has never left Italy—would flip his shit. I, on the other hand, have encountered this bullshit before and have learned to separate my Italian opinion and just consider it food. It still doesn’t mean I always have full control of my expressions. Elissa and Etie giggle at my pursed lips as I move the chicken breast to another plate, move the broccoli over to the salad, pass the “ranch” dressing and garlic bread to Elissa, and add crushed pepper to the pasta to combat the cheesiness. Setting the order, I start with the salad, move the pasta to the center, and put the meat after.

  Franco gives me a blank look. “You okay over there?” His tone suggests I’m doing too much.

  “I don’t know. Maybe later we can make some arepas. I can add some Prosciutto to it and drizzle some bruschetta on it for good measure. No. Let's make some Empanadas. I have a great bolognese sauce I can use. We can make them like little pizza pockets.”

  Franco narrows his eyes at me then nods. “I get your point.”

  “Or you could do all of that and have an Italian-Colombian fusion food truck or something,” Etie adds.

  I believe she feels tension, but we’re just two men doing what men do. She blushes when I smile at her and Franco stops chewing to stare at the side of her head. Those two have no idea how much I appreciate their entertainment value.

  Elissa peeks up at me through her lashes. I don't know what the people around us think we are, so I’ve relaxed showing affection until we have an actual conversation about the future. I’m even sitting across from her instead of next to her. I do, however, text her the most immediate thing on my mind.

  Luca: Can we leave, yet?

  Elissa: Hell, no. I’m starving. I was nauseated all morning, my stomach is just now allowing me to eat.

  The baby.

  Luca: Fair enough. Hurry up, we have stuff to do.

  Elissa: Talk?

  Luca: I was thinking about licking your pussy until you scream, but we can talk too.

  She squirms in her chair then gives me an admonishing look.

  Luca: What? It’s been a long time and I was rushed earlier.

  There’s a glimpse of heat before she averts her attention to another author.

  I ca
n’t wait to get her alone.

  ***

  Elissa and I had fallen asleep naked and satisfied. I’d tasted her until she couldn’t take it anymore, then took my time making love to her. The jet lag knocked me out shortly after. I’m surprised I heard my phone ringing but glad that I did. Midnight in Montana means it’s eight in the morning in Verona.

  “Ciao,” I greet the man I’ve been dying to talk to since I got the news. Elissa’s sleeping on my chest, and I’m grateful she doesn’t understand Italian yet.

  “Did you get the girl?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Good. Why do you sound stressed? Don’t you love her?”

  “I do. That’s not the problem.”

  “What is it?” I can hear the wind and know he’s outside as usual. “She’s pregnant.”

  “Is it yours?”

  “Yes. She just found out this week.”

  “Congratulations. So what’s the problem?”

  “It’s terrifying.”

  “Every soon-to-be-parent feels that way.”

  “Zio…”

  “No. No. No. We’re not doing this, Luca. You aren’t your parents.”

  “But, what if—”

  “There are no ‘what-ifs;’ you’re not them, and that’s final. Your dad has a selfish side that no other Girelli I know has. Your grandparents aren’t that way, and your cousins aren’t either. Neither are you.”

  “And, my mother?”

  “Same thing. Didn’t her parents always reach out to you, call, and try to visit when they were alive?”

  “Yes.”

  I remember being dropped off during the holidays. Arnaldo and Piera Cavalli were perfectly loving grandparents and the first deliverers of non-Italian culture shock. They were Italian by blood and Canadian in most other ways.

  “You just had a set of shitty parents, and now you are old enough to know, I kicked your dad’s ass behind it, but you aren’t them. You’d proven that when they left you with the business at such a young age. A lesser man like your father would have folded, sold it, and ran off with the money. You stayed and fought for your family legacy because that’s who you are. Plus, you made it bigger than it was. You rose to the challenge and excelled. You have to have the same fighter’s spirit with love and family.”