by SJ Molloy
My head spins.
I drop my clutch and shoes, forgoing filling my lungs with oxygen. My legs give way, every muscle in my body limp, and I’m consumed by dizziness, haziness. What is happening?
“Lexi, baby, Jesus, Lexi … Fuck!”
“LUCCA?” I cry just before collapsing on my knees. In a swift move he has me lifted in his protective arms.
I hold tight. I hold tighter than I ever have before.
My head’s spinning and I don’t want to open my eyes. Seconds later, I flutter my eyelashes under the reflecting bright lights of the booth, still wrapped tight in Lucca’s arms on the sofa, and wonder if I’m hallucinating or if I’ve been drugged. I need this to be real, to feel him and nothing else.
I NEED HIM.
I inhale his masculine, sexy scent—the familiar scent that intoxicated me the first time I met him. I press into his muscular body, burying my head deeper against him, feeling his hot breath on my neck, and the realisation that it’s him causes tears to flow down my cheeks.
“Fuck, Lexi. Are you okay, sweetheart? Tell me you are okay.”
It’s him.
My Lucca.
My love.
The love.
L’amore.
I can’t speak yet because I’m so upset, but I dig my fingers into him to acknowledge I’m relieved to be in his arms. There is talking and commotion behind me but I zone out. I focus on the beating of Lucca’s heart. I imagine it’s him and our heartbeats still in time. I don’t even know how much time has elapsed.
“Shit. Why is she not speaking? Talk to me, Doc,” he begs, kissing the side of my head repeatedly.
“She’s in shock. She’s chalk white,” Hazel says, sitting beside us on the sofa, pouring me water and holding the glass in front of me. I’m numb, frozen, and iced over, blood running cold. I stare at the glass but can’t quite manoeuvre my hands to reach for it, so she sets it back down.
Without moving my head, I can hear Lucy, Sam, Carrie, and Jess chirping and asking what’s going on. Hazel must have brought them in. Then I remember why I’m here in the first place.
Oh God.
I wonder what I’ve missed if there will be a blood bath when Lucca takes out Jackson. Lucca takes my face in both hands and drops his head, his lips marrying to mine.
Sweetly.
Tenderly.
Lovingly.
I close my eyes when his soft lips meet mine, remembering just how much I’ve missed this. My lips quiver and I tremble. He holds his lips on mine, breathing heavy, the hot air from his nostrils warming my upper lip and nose. I inwardly murmur, not sure whether he can hear me.
Kiss.
Kiss.
Kiss.
His soft lips have me feeling extremely helpless and needy, and for a brief moment the fright and astonishment I’m feeling subsides and it’s this small touch from him that temporarily diminishes my fear.
No fear.
Just this.
Just him.
He’s gasping when he slowly pulls his lips back then leans in again to repeat his touch, and this time my murmur is more of a whimper.
“Lexi, speak to me,” he whispers against my top lip. I say the only word I can form.
“Kimberley?”
“Do not worry, she has been taken care of. She is gone. I’ll deal with her tomorrow,” he presses his forehead against mine then gently rubs the pad of his thumb under my eyes.
“I’ll have my driver take you girls home when you’re ready to leave.” It’s Jackson’s voice. I don’t understand. He’s still here?
Alive?
Why? I thought Lucca would have asked him to leave.
“Thank you, buddy,” Lucca replies. It’s the familiar trauma causing me disbelief. Why is Lucca being reasonable with him?
“Lucca?” I snivel.
“I am here, I am here,” he comforts me.
“Is it true?” I force a whisper with minimal emotion.
He looks directly into my eyes with pain and anguish. He’s hurting for me. He doesn’t need to answer because his eyes have already confirmed everything. We have a silent conversation with only our eyes.
I plead.
He apologises.
No longer bright. His insipid azures narrow into my murky brown eyes. I’m revealing to him I’m scared, and he articulates he knows but he’s here and will protect me. Blinking slowly, I express my love for him.
Our love.
The love.
L’amore.
We understand each other just fine. Silent eloquence.
“I am taking her somewhere private. I need to speak with Lexi alone. Jackson, mate, thanks for your help tonight. On this occasion, I am appreciative that you were here with her and she was not alone. Hazel, call Cameron and explain what has happened. Get him to phone Marco and Lloyd. Girls, I will get her to call you tomorrow. She is going to be fine. No one will get near her or harm her. I have her.” He rocks me gently, bundling his hands in my hair, holding me tightly.
I draw in a deep breath of air, my bottom lip quivering; unaware I’m shivering and shaking.
“Baby, I have got you,” he whispers in my ear. Kissing my cheek softly, moving my hair behind my ears, he lifts my arms and places them in his suit jacket wrapping it around my body to warm me.
He stands up with me, adjusting his arms. I don’t care where I am or whose company I’m in. I clutch on with all my strength. I wrap my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck and bury my face into the crook of his neck. He kisses the side of my head, holding the top of my back and my ass under the round skirt of my dress.
“Girls, can you take her shoes and bag for her?”
I feel many light hands stroke my back; it’s the caring touch of my girls … my darlin’s … then a warm, more masculine hand on my shoulder. “Alexis, I’m sorry. If there is anything I can do to help, I will. You’re in good hands. Lucca will take excellent care of you I’m sure.” Jackson doesn’t sound as carefree as before. He must be shocked with tonight’s revelations and drama.
I’ve ruined his night.
I can’t worry about Jackson or what he thinks.
Lucca is my priority and he’s all the matters.
I hear Jackson’s voice, concerned and etched with uncertainty, but I’m too numb too respond so I move my shoulders to confirm I heard him. Lucca whispers something to one of Jackson’s bodyguards. In a flash I’m on the move, exiting the booth. The loud music blares in my sensitive drumming ears.
Closing my eyes, I clutch onto Lucca as if my life depends on it. He treads through the crowds and down a flight of stairs, holding me wrapped around him. We walk through a corridor and he stops.
“No one comes through here, understand?” he orders.
“Yes, Mr. Caruso, of course.”
“I mean no one,” he reiterates.
“Sure,” the nervous doorman responds.
Opening my eyes, I see Lucca has opened a smoky glass door to a VIP area which is empty. It’s in the same style of upstairs with the screens of glass, running water, and silver chains hanging from the ceiling with modern white and fuchsia pink accessories and furniture. The mood lighting is dull and low in comparison to the pristine bright white booths upstairs.
He walks up to the empty bar, holding me with one arm under my ass while the other fixes me a drink of water.
“Drink this.” He sits me on the edge of the counter, still with his arm wrapped around my lower back and his chest pressed into my body. He holds the glass to my mouth. I tilt my head back, my teeth chattering against the glass, and manage to drink almost all of it.
Attentively wiping the water from my chin, he still has given me no explanation, but right now I don’t think I want one. I want him as close as I can get him. It’s the only feeling that will dissipate my fear, my anguish.
“I need to explain. I am so sorry, Lexi. I did not want to worry you. I did not want you to know. I have been out of my mind all fucking day, crazy with
worry. Baby, I love you, I …”
I pull myself together to collect my cognitive thoughts then make my first movement since my frozen shock and place my finger on his lips.
“Tell me later. Right now I need you like I’ve never needed you before, please take this feeling away and make me feel you, nothing else.” Removing my finger, I lean into kiss his lips forcefully, showing him what I want, what I need.
That small gesture is all it takes for him to groan and grab behind my head, scrunching a handful of hair in both hands as he assaults my mouth with his tongue. We kiss hard, we kiss passionately, and we kiss dirty, groaning into one another’s mouth until my lips feel bruised and swollen.
My fear is almost gone ... almost.
I need more.
My fear is replaced by lust—heady, sparking, yearning desire—and I don’t want this to end. His sexy kissing has me shifting on the bar surface, wriggling and craving his touch to my wet throbbing sex. I tilt my pelvis and push my hips forward.
We don’t exchange words, only sexy moans and groans.
Desperate.
Passionate.
Understanding.
Giving.
The lust I feel igniting inside me is more intense than the lust I felt my first time with Lucca in Italy because I know how he makes me feel.
Powerful.
Confident.
Alive.
Him. All of him.
We effortlessly follow our instincts and thrash, grope, and tease. He picks me back up while pushing his hard erection up against my needy sex and clashes his tongue with mine.
Dancing.
Smacking.
Biting.
I run my hands through his wavy hair, gripping tightly to show him the intensity I desire.
Rough.
Carnal.
Raucous.
He pauses and looks in my eyes, soundlessly asking if I want to be fucked like that.
“Yes, I need it,” I answer. My body is charged, infused with a surge of ignited passion.
Electrocuted, I need to feel something intense. He needs to fuck me. Fuck me hard. He walks with my back towards one of the glass panels, my legs around his waist. Every step he takes is fast, strong, and robust. He’s vigorous and potent, oozing power. It’s sexy, virile, and I’m melting in his arms. I’m satisfied because I know I’ll definitely be getting fucked.
The cascading of rippling tremors I feel is forceful, from my heart to my abdomen to my sex. Butterfly wings are too gentle to describe this feeling; it’s more like currents igniting through me, jolting me with ecstatic thrills of aches and cramps weaving down low. Vulnerable. Desperate. The pounding in my palpitating heart rhythmically beats with the dull bass blasting from the club upstairs.
He places me down against one of those glass panels with rippling water, then slides his jacket off me, pulls my dress up, and strips my tiny lace panties from me. Feeling completely aroused with my bare sex exposed, I need friction on my wet sensitive folds. I lift one leg, wrapping it around his waist, closing the space, then push myself against his hard bulge in a hard, fast thrust. Then I reach out to undo his zipper.
I’m moving fast and furious and know what I want and how to do it, but the reality is the alcohol has probably slowed me down, so he helps me out. He slides his suit trousers and boxers down, his massive, hard cock springing free. He then undoes his tie and top few buttons, leaving the tie hanging open around his neck.
I need this power, him to take control, to transport me into another world where there is no fear, only indulgent hedonism. Only Lucca can take me there. Now is the time.
I need to be taken.
Placing one hand on his firm ass cheek and the other on his thick, steely shaft, I stroke his length, massage his balls, then tighten my grip hard and work him, pleasure him until I can’t take it anymore. Grabbing his throbbing cock, I pull it towards me and tease my clit with his bulbous head.
“Jesus, fuck, baby.” His groaning and husky voice renders me delirious. He’s real, this is real, and I’m taking him every way I can. I don’t speak, I can’t. I’m on a mission to get fucked senseless and have waited all week to feel this.
Lifting my leg a little higher, holding onto his girth, I circle his engorged head around my clit, grazing my sensitive nub as he tightens his grip on my hair and hisses through clenched teeth. It’s a delicious sensation hitting me, but being impatient, I know what I need lies within. I slide his cock down my wet folds tempting it to my opening. Biting down on my lip and closing my eyes, I ease him into me.
Throwing my head back with the feel of him against my sex, I grab his inky, wavy hair to pull his lips to mine then bite his bottom lip. Growling, he picks me up so I’m straddling his hips as he pounds into me in one fast, forceful drive forward, banging me against the glass panel of flowing water. He thrusts again and again with strong control, shocking my nervous system with an intense electric current. He gives me what I need and fucks me good and proper.
Impaling and stretching me, I clamp around his shaft as he fervently pounds into me callously and steadfast. Tears escape my eyes once more when I thrust my body against his, accepting every penetrating, unforgiving whack, climbing the stairway to sexual heaven. Every intense slam of deep, hard incursion has me one step closer to utopia, where I won’t feel fear, only gratification.
This is the best form of therapy, of distraction, and I intend to savour it. I assault his tongue as my generous, swollen cleavage spills from the bustier of my dress, squashed against his chest. Clenching around his expert intrusion, my muscles tighten; I’m quivering, shaking, but relishing every hard slam he fucks into me.
With aggressive possession in my eyes, I cry with carnal pleasure, nearly reaching my orgasm “Fuck, Lexi, I need this, baby, so bad with you.” There’s desperation in his needy voice causing my heartbeat to hitch in my throat I’m panting so hard knowing he needs it as much as me.
“Harder,” I demand as my body cries out for more delicious abuse to my core. “I’m close … ahhh … shit,” I bellow through the large, empty VIP area.
“Come for me, baby. Shout my name and come around my cock,” he growls, losing control and panting breathlessly. It’s enough to throw me into a raging, sensational climax.
“Lucca,” I cry. He gutturally shouts my name as he becomes rigid and slams into me again, coming inside and pushing me up the glass.
I scream over and over, envisioning stars, my eyes rolling back into my head. He pounds into me another few times before slumping against me while the undulating ripples of erogenous waves flood my body and my senses.
He remains inside me, keeping his body pressed against mine, kissing me over and over, breathing erratically. I can’t let go. I’m blissfully absorbing every nerve and flutter. He lowers me and eases out, placing me on a white leather sofa nearby. I’m not finished with him yet. I need more of that distraction and I need more of him.
Thankfully, he has the same idea. He’s not finished with me either. He never is.
He slips his shoes off, then kicks away his trousers and boxers gathered at his ankles, and unbuttons his shirt all the way down leaving it open. Watching him and knowing this area is private and no one will come in, I do the same. I sit on the end of the sofa and unzip my dress. Lucca kneels in front of me and finishes the bottom part of the zipper then pulls it over my head.
“I love the dress, but you are too sexy in it. Every man up there has a hard, twitching cock for you.” He unclasps my bra and flings it overhead. “I am glad it is my hard, twitching cock that is fucking you. No one else’s but mine. Only mine. Always. Anytime. Anywhere. Mine.”
“Only yours,” I reply, feeling a pool of excitement swirl low in my abdomen with his words. His ownership.
“I love your sexy dress, but I love your sexy as fuck body even more. The body I get to fuck.” He moans at the site of my naked body. “Fuck, I have missed this image.”
I’ve missed this image also—Lucca kneeli
ng in front of me naked, exposing his dark muscular body of male perfection. Those defined abs, deliciously ripped with his shirt hanging open exposing them, it’s nothing short of a hot fantasy. My fantasy.
He spreads my legs and moves in between them, closer to my body. Taking my hard as diamonds puckered nipples, he kisses, licks, and bites, nipping the other at the same time. Arching my back, enjoying his mouth, I know I need more.
“Touch me,” I beg. I’m aware he is touching me but I need him lower.
He moves his hands from my heavy breasts over my navel then lifts my feet and places my heels on the edge of the sofa, widening my legs and exposing me fully to him. Clenching his jaw, gasping at his view, he strokes my wet, slick folds.
“Uhhh.” I throw my head back.
Utopia.
His thumb torments my sweet spot while he inserts two—no three—fingers deep inside me, sliding his sperm within my sheath. Arching my back and pushing my breasts forward, it’s only a matter of seconds before I detonate again as I’m still very sensitive. Closing my eyes, my head involuntarily thrashes side to side as I bite the inside of my lip, curling my toes, shaking my knees and legs while tensing everywhere.
Holy shit!
“I have missed you so much. I could watch you do that all day. God, you are perfetto.” He slithers his fingers out from my pulsing, hot, soaked core and trails his creamy fingers over my bare mound. He leans in to kiss me. “Hmmm, someone got waxed all over. I love it,” he rasps against my lip. I love him. I love this.
I’m awfully glad he loves it, but I’d love it even more if he were back inside me.
Still trying to keep the power, I grab a handful of material from his shirt, pulling him up. Standing, I turn and push him flat down onto the sofa. His eyes are wanton for me. He watches me eagerly with that sexy dimple smile I go weak for.
Climbing up, I straddle him then run my hands all over his exposed abs, inside his open shirt that’s left hanging at his sides. My Italian god.
“I’ve missed you so much too. I’ve missed this,” I say in my sexy voice. Then I lean down, pressing my breasts to his chest but keeping my hips and ass lifted up and back so I’m not touching him yet. I tease him.
I kiss his lips and his neck then seductively suck on his Adam’s apple, coating my tongue with a taste of his alluring aftershave. I know he loves this and I love pleasuring him like this. His virile hands firmly massage my breasts as my tongue swirls over his nipples, and without any warning I sit up, wiggle my ass, then drop my hips anchoring down onto his erect cock. I manoeuvre side to side until I have his full length inside me, making me buckle all again with that same electric current undulating through my lower abdomen.