by Ella James
“Get up off the bed, Elise.”
She props her flushed cheek in her palm. “You said you bought it from my father, this place? Unless you stole it from him.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“You do steal things…right?” She lifts her chin, and I can tell she’s goading me.
“What do you want?”
“I thought that’s yours to figure out. You just tried to get me to go. Is that what I want?”
“Is it?” My heart’s beating too hard.
“That’s not what I said I wanted.”
“What do you want?”
“I want you to lie down with me.”
“Why?” The word sounds choked.
She pushes up on one arm, crossing her ankles in those plaid pants, and she looks at me with what can only be some sort of fury. “Because, Luca. You twisted me up. And I’m still twisted. So I want to lie down with you. You’re the same person, aren’t you? Technically?” Her tongue darts out over her lip as her brows pinch. “So I need you to lie beside me, let me…hug you.” Her voice dips so soft I can barely hear it, but I see her swallow as she casts her gaze down to the bedding. “Let me see if it still feels right.” Her eyes pin mine. “What do you think? Can you do that for me?”
What the fuck.
I spend a second standing there, trying to breathe…I guess delaying the inevitable. Because I’m going to lie down beside her. I don’t even have a goddamn choice.
I feel like I’m floating as I cover the floor space between us. I get on the bed slowly, trying not to look at her face as I stretch out on my back…then tuck an arm behind my head. When I feel her pull the blankets over me, I shut my eyes and try to think of anything but my dick.
I can smell her, too—a sort of sweetness, like shampoo or product. It’s not the perfume she used to wear—perfume I once searched for at all the counters in Saks—but she smells good, and I can feel her as she settles in beside me. I can feel her scooting closer. Then her head is on my arm, and my chest feels like it’s locked.
Fuck. Shit. Motherfuck me.
I don’t mean to turn away. I just…do. First my head, and then my hips shift. Then I’m lying on my side, baring my scarred back. I feel her shift—scooting closer or getting out of the bed?—and put a hand over my eyes. I can’t look.
“You should face me.”
I get a deep breath, let it slowly out. Turns out, the timing matters. Took me a long time to learn that how you breathe can make you feel different ways. My slow, measured shit does its job, making me feel less…like I need to fucking run.
Who would have thought I couldn’t stand to have her so close? Even so, I find myself turning back over. Slow and easy, this is no big fucking deal.
But I’m a liar, and Elise is so close. I could touch those soft lips. I could touch her cheeks. For years, I thought about how smooth and sweet her cheeks were, how I loved to kiss them, and her jaw…and that freckle there near her ear.
I start feeling fucking weirder. The way I used to feel when the thing happened. Sort of like I’m going out of my body. My pulse picks back up, like I’m going for a rocket ride, and I can’t breathe, but my eyes never move from her.
And she’s looking at me, too. Then her finger’s touching my lower lip. She’s tracing my mouth. There’s not enough air in the room. I’m dizzy as shit as I look into her eyes, and she leans closer. I’m about to kiss her, but her eyes close. Christ.
I’m looking at her long eyelashes when her tongue flicks out and touches my lip…moving like she’s tracing and…Madre Maria salvami.
Her teeth sink into my lip, sending a spear of lust into me. Then she kisses me. It’s this fast, soft, hot kiss—frantic, almost. Her hand roves down my chest, tracing my abs through the sheet, and when she curls over, leaning down to cup me where I’m hard and throbbing, I’m so fucking ready that I thrust into her palm. Elise gives this little hoarse laugh.
“I can see you want me to go home,” she murmurs, wrapping her hand around my head and moving up and down my shaft so that I can’t help groaning, shifting my hips.
Her hand closes around my cockhead, rubbing the top and then tracing the rim, and I groan loudly. I can’t fucking help it.
“You like that? Do you still like it when I touch you?”
“This…isn’t hugging.”
I think she laughs as she climbs atop me, straddling my hips, pressing her palms against my lower abs. Her hair falls around her face as she looks at my aching, stiff dick.
“Someone’s really wanting my attention.” She runs the back of her hand down my shaft and cups my balls, rubbing them just right, so that I’m panting. Jesus…I’m about to come. Then she leans up toward me, shifting her hips so they’re lined up with mine. She puts her knee between my thighs, reaches down to grab me by the dick, and starts to rub herself against my head.
“Fuck.” I’m not prepared for how that will feel. It’s so much sensation, I can’t even see her for a second—it’s like blacking out, except it’s starbursts I see behind my eyelids. Then I’m sucking air in, and all my energy is concentrating in my cock and balls. I grab her hips and try to wrap my arm around the back of her ass, so I can push her down against me. Fuck, I need to feel how hot and wet she is.
“No, remember? I’m hugging you.” Her eyes are wickedly teasing, her face flushed as she rubs me against her slick heat.
“Fuck…Elise.”
She lets my dick go and sprawls out atop me, stretching so her lips can brush my jaw as her pussy rubs over my throbbing cock.
“I can’t…” I groan.
“Can’t what?” she purrs, aligning us just right, spreading her legs more so I can really feel her, and I’m moaning as my balls throb.
She traces down my abs and reaches between us once more, grasping just the head of me and working me with her palm.
“Shit, I’m…gonna—”
“What, big boy?” She rubs the underside of my head, that damn little magic spot, and my whole lower body jerks.
I can feel it; God, I’m so close.
“Tell me what you’re gonna do.” She sits partway back up, leaning away from me, so she can reach between her own soft thighs and cup my heavy, aching balls. I’m panting as she traces the taut skin, and then she squeezes my shaft near the base.
“I’m…gonna come.” I’m fucking shivering—like…crazy shit.
“But are you?” She rolls my balls. “All I’m really doing is touching just a little. You’re a thirty-something-year-old man.” She strokes my shaft, her hand perfectly warm, perfectly squeezing.
But she said thirty-something…and now I’m not about to come. Because she doesn’t know how old I am.
She traces up and down my thighs, and then she squeezes my balls—hard enough to hurt, so I’m groaning. Both of her hands pump my shaft, and I’m trying to fuck her palms. I’ve never felt like this…
“Oh shit.” My own voice echoes through my head.
I guess she can tell I’m wasted; when I crack my eyes open to see her, she’s smiling, smug and self-pleased.
She rubs my dick against her, sending stars through the darkness behind my eyelids. “I remember how it used to drive you crazy and you’d try to push against me, wanting to get inside.”
Her teeth nip my chin, my jaw, and then she’s kissing me. I’m kissing her so fucking hard I’m scared I’ll hurt her, but she’s moaning, pulling my hair—and that hurts…
I’m gonna come! Oh Jesus. “Rosa…”
She nips at my lower lip then whispers, “What do you want, Luca?”
I can’t say it. I’m gripping the blankets. If she touches me again, I really think I’m gonna blow.
She reaches down right then, her hand closing around my tip—but this time, she squeezes so hard. Hard so that it hurts.
“You want to come, right?”
She traces the little slit where precum’s oozing out, and I’m just moaning…like, I fucking can’t stop.
<
br /> “I think that’s fine. I think you should get to come. But first, I have to.” She moves off me; at first, I’m confused. When I open my bleary eyes, I find her pulling her sleep pants all the way off. Elise…getting naked. I can’t comprehend what’s going on. I’m panting as I look at her, desperate to see skin. But she stops there, pants around her ankles, palm over her pussy like she’s saying the “fuck me” pledge. She’s still got on her underwear. I watch her fingers delve beneath the fabric.
“Jesus…fuck.” I don’t even know if I can get up onto my knees. I’m that close.
“I would do this anytime, anywhere,” I murmur. The room tilts around me as I crawl between her legs and put both of them over my shoulders. Then I rip the fucking underwear, drawing a soft gasp from her. My dick nearly explodes as I inhale the scent of her, take in the flawless beauty of her.
“Il mio bellissimo tesoro, oh dio.”
I look up, needing to see her face, wanting to check how she seems, but she sinks her hands into my hair, pulling. As I lower my face over her slick skin—she’s so wet, she’s glistening—she tugs my hair tighter.
“Luca…lie back down.” Her voice sounds shaky, so I look back up, finding, to my surprise, she looks like she’s coming undone.
“Oh, no way, la mia rosa. Not when I’ve got this in front of me.” I trace between her swollen lips and work a finger in. There’s this moment where my dick jerks, and I almost come from feeling how soft and warm she is, from wanting to be in there. I grit my teeth, then lean down and drag my tongue over her.
Her hips jerk, and she moans as she grips my hair with both hands.
“I like that sound,” I whisper over her swollen lips.
I remember what she likes…the way she used to jerk and squirm when I would point my tongue and drag the tip around her clit, lapping just a touch too gently all around her wetness but not pushing that button.
I start up the way I used to, and she’s hugging my head, thrusting, wrapping her long, hot, smooth legs around me. I can feel my balls throb, and my dick is dripping precum. I’m so fucking close.
I trace around her clit in little circles, my two fingers pumping slow and steady, filling her up, and her little sounds are making my whole body pulse. Then she lifts her hips and thrusts herself against me. It’s incredible the way my body starts to shake. I’m so done, I have to stop licking sometimes and pant against her.
Distantly, I hear her whisper, “Stay like that.” I watch, confused, as she slides out from under me. Her eyes are hooded, drunk on lust, her body shaking too as she moves like she’s getting in the sixty-nine position—but with me on top.
“No.” I scoop her up, still panting, hard as granite, nearly blind with want.
“I’ll lie down. I want you on my face.”
I do that and put her there myself, dragging her atop me, squeezing her hips as I rub her against my mouth. God in heaven, I’ve got Elise riding my face. She leans down toward my abs, but I put my hand over my dick.
“Rosa.” I trace her slit with my tongue, squeezing my dick because I can’t help it. “You don’t have to do that.”
“Are you kidding me? I want to.” I feel her hips shift. Her mouth comes around me fast and hot. She’s sucking before I can work a finger into her. My mouth’s open, and I’m moaning, trying to lick her clit, but…oh fuck, I’m gonna come.
I squeeze her ass.
“Oh God…”
She licks around my head, and I refuse to blow before she gets off. Focus on your tongue, Luca. I’ll get her there first. But she lifts her pussy off my face! She lifts her fucking pussy off my face and cups my balls—her hand is sort of holding them too tight—and then she swallows my cock like it’s her job.
It’s so good, so good, so fucking good. Her mouth so warm—Elise’s mouth. I come like a goddamn star exploding. My whole body goes off, so I’m fucking shivering when I realize I came and…oh my God, her body’s jerking like—did she come, too?
My finger buried in her cunt can feel it. I feel it. Her body on mine presses a little heavier; she’s breathing hard. And it’s just perfect. Goddamn. I squeeze her hips.
“La mia rosa. Questa è la cosa più bella…”
“No, la più bella è questa.” She wraps her hand loosely around my spent dick, and I shut my watery eyes.
Elise speaks Italian? And she said the most beautiful thing is my dick?
“This has gotta be a dream,” I whisper, feeling drunk.
Then she’s moving off me. She’s sitting on her haunches, peering down at me with no expression. She looks almost scared, and then her eyes are glistening.
I push up on my elbows, but she’s too fast. She’s off the bed, plucking her clothes up off the floor.
“Wait!”
She scoops her boots up and I lunge off the bed, catching her by the waist as she starts through the bedroom door. I’ve got an arm around her hips, so I can feel her body tremble. Then she bats at my arm, whirls around, and shoves me. For a second, I feel real shock, like a kick to the chest. Then she swings the door open and starts to sob.
15
Elise
I got off feeling him throb against the inside of my cheeks—right at the moment his tongue stilled on my pussy and his body pebbled with chills. He came in my mouth, and I don’t think he even thought about it. He was lost in pleasure, out of his mind for quite some time before I made him come.
When I asked him to lie down beside me, I was feeling raw. A little crazy. Then, with him so close, I couldn’t resist the temptation. I didn’t think it would add up to much—maybe just some teasing on my end, a way to feel less hurt that he’d asked me to go. I had planned to get him hard and bolt. I almost did.
When I said, “I have to come first,” I was planning to stretch out on my back, get him between my legs, and then roll off the mattress. Instead, I let him lick me, push his fingers in. He was desperate to get off, and I was in charge, so it seemed safe.
He said, “I would want this anytime, and anywhere,” and backed that up, taking his time. He kept looking up me, checking in—the way he used to do, my sweet Luca—and then he called me “Il mio bellissimo tesoro.”
I told myself he’s a smooth talker. How could he do his job if he weren’t? I inured myself to the hoarse and heavy-lidded sweetness of him…or tried to.
He lost such control of himself, coming. I don’t think I ever saw him like that before. His body trembled like he hadn’t come in years. Right after, he hugged me with his arms around my hips, squeezing me as if I was still his.
It was too much.
As I scrambled off him, I saw shock on his face, upset—like he cared that something was wrong. That just made me lose it more. Because he doesn’t. Luca doesn’t care about me. All of this is crazy, messed up…shit. We’re twisted up, like he said in the shower. I told him I wanted to feel him, to see if he still felt the same, because I thought he wouldn’t—but he did.
As his arms lock me against his chest now, I feel a crest of panic. It’s that kind of horror-movie panic where the monster grabs you and you know your fate is sealed.
I break away and shove him, desperate to retreat before I lose hold of myself.
“Rosa…” His hands grip my shoulders and he turns me around to face him. His wide eyes implore mine as he squeezes gently. “Tell me what’s the matter, dolce rosa…” His brows draw together.
“YOU are!”
My unhinged shriek hits him like a slap. I see its echo on his face, as plain as any hand mark. In his shock, he loosens his grip on me.
“I have to go.” I jerk the bedroom door open, nearly striking myself in the forehead as I try to scurry out.
“Rosa, rosa… Vieni con me.” His hands catch me by the waist. He tosses me over his shoulder before shifting me back down into his arms, clutching me to his chest, whispering, “Ora vieni con me…” This can’t be real. It isn’t real.
I cover my face as he carries me into the living area. I pretend those are
n’t his arms around me as my body shudders—not his warm, hard chest below my tear-stained cheek. He sits on the couch, shifting so I’m cradled against him. He keeps whispering Italian things, and now I know Italian.
His palm cups the back of my head, stroking downward with a firm but gentle pressure. Then he wraps his arms around me again. Every time he whispers near my ear, more tears fall—because it’s not supposed to be this way. I hate him.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, like a simpering fool.
I feel Luca’s mouth near my ear. “Chi dovrebbe essere imbarazzato, tu o io? La bella donna o l’uomo che era il mostro?”
“You’re not a monster,” I rasp. I squeeze my eyes shut, embarrassed by the way I’m trembling.
Luca shifts so he’s leaned back against the couch, still holding me against him. With one hand, he’s stroking my back. I feel him inhale, let the breath out. Then his face comes down near mine, and he squeezes more tightly. “I am so, so sorry, rosa. So, so very sorry… I thought you were better off without me.”
I can feel him breathing harder. For a second I think he’ll let me go, bolt before he gets emotional. Instead, he grips me so tightly it hurts.
I translate his Italian as he whispers near my ear. There are so many bad things. You were the good thing.
He breathes deeply again, shifting so his arms are still around me, but not quite so tightly. I’m more vertical, with my cheek on his shoulder. His hand’s tracing my spine. His head is leaned back against the couch, so I can see his Adam’s apple as he swallows. He breathes deeply several times, and as his shoulders shift in the dim light, I see the scar on his cheek.
I wrap an arm around his shoulders. I can feel his body pause in surprise. Then I thread my arms around his neck, bringing his cheek down so it’s rough against mine.
“I’m sorry I hit you. I wanted to apologize for years, but I was scared to.” I was scared to look him up, afraid of what might happen.
“Rosa…don’t be sorry for that.”
Another tear treks down my cheek. “I can’t believe I did that.”