He's... comfort... and something more.
Chapter Thirteen
THE WEEKS PASS AND I find that even Lucia's taunts have become muted sounds in my ears. Not when I feel like I'm grasping at real happiness for the first time in my life.
I'd been skeptical about Enzo from the beginning, mostly because I'd seen the danger he could cause to my heart. And so I'd closed myself off, and I'd tried to ignore these strange feelings growing inside of me.
Until I couldn't anymore.
When was it that I started seeing him differently?
Was it when he defended me in front of his mother and Gianna, or was it when his small gestures of kindness slowly but steadily started to make my heart beat faster?
While we've maintained our separate sleeping quarters for now, we've been spending time almost every day. Even my bucket list is nearing its end.
Just the last week he'd taken me to the Met, and we'd browsed the galleries together for hours. I'd never realized just how knowledgeable he was in history, and he'd have a small anecdote for each artifact we'd view.
Probably the most memorable visit had been the one to the Strand, where he'd bought me no less than fifty books. I'd gone mad when I'd seen so many titles in one place, and I couldn't stop myself. He had even encouraged me to get more.
I'd swung from one aisle to another, excitement pumping through my veins as I'd find yet another book that interested me. I'd even picked up some romance novels, and this time he hadn't made fun of me.
With so many good things happening to me in such a short period of time, I have to wonder if it's not a dream. I've never had anyone be so kind to me before, aiming to please my every caprice.
Enzo, for all his superficial charm, is a much more complex person than I'd given him credit for. And I still feel like I'm barely scratching the surface.
"Where are we going?" I frown at him as he ushers me out of the house and towards the car.
"It's a surprise." He winks at me, making no attempt to explain himself.
It takes us a while to reach the city, and the car stops in front of a colorful shop. He helps me out of the car and leads me inside.
The moment I step inside I realize it's a pastry shop, but we're the only clients.
"What's this?" I ask when he shows me to a table filled with assortments of sweets, cakes, and biscuits.
"I know how much you enjoy sweets, so I rented the shop for a day. You can try everything and eat to your heart's content."
I look at him in wonder. Just when I thought he couldn't surprise me even more; he goes and does something like this. If he continues being this sweet, then I might as well eat him too.
Taking a seat, I have a hard time deciding what to start with. I try some of the small biscuits, my eyes closing with a sigh of pleasure at the heavenly taste.
"God, Enzo, this is amazing," I moan as I take a bite of cake, the chocolate flavor bursting in my mouth.
"I'm glad you like it." He's staring at me, a soft look on his face.
"Like is an understatement." I switch between chocolate and vanilla, becoming a little more adventurous and trying other flavors too. He got me everything — mango, raspberry, cherry, and even some flavors I've never heard of.
"Why aren't you eating?" I ask when I see that he hasn't touched anything.
"I'm waiting for my turn," his eyes twinkle with mischief.
"I'm so sorry," I burst out, realizing that I've been monopolizing everything. "Here, you can have some," I push the plate with eclairs towards him.
"You're done eating?" Tilting his head to the side, he raises an eyebrow at me, his gaze almost predatory. Geez, I didn't realize he was waiting for me to finish. Although I have to admit it's quite endearing that he doesn't want to steal my food.
I take a moment to debate if I'm truly done, but as I look at the rest of the cakes, I realize I can't have another bite.
For now.
Nodding, I expect him to dive in. Instead, he stands up, coming to my side.
"What are you doing?' I frown when he takes my hand and tugs me out of my seat. He doesn't reply. Instead, he uses one arm to swipe the plates aside, some of them crashing to the floor and breaking.
My eyes widen in shock.
What is he doing?
One finger trails up my leg, taking with it my long skirt and raising it up my hips.
"I said it's my turn now." His breath is hot on my neck, his lips skimming the sensitive skin until he raises his head to look at me in the eyes. His pupils are dilated, his irises almost black, and I lose myself in those depths.
His lips come on top of mine, lingering for a moment before beginning their descent again.
"You..." I trail off when I realize his intention and why he'd insisted I wear the long skirt.
He hooks his fingers under the band of my panties, sliding them off my legs and bringing them to his nose, inhaling deeply.
Anticipation builds inside of me as he stuffs my panties in his pocket, salaciously winking at me.
I'm almost shivery as my hand reaches for his jaw, bringing him closer. The ghost of a kiss does not satisfy me — not anymore.
Our mouths mash together, tongues fighting for supremacy, teeth biting and nibbling. His finger swipes the cream of a profiterole, bringing it to my mouth and wiping it over my face. His tongue is quick to clean the mess as he licks and sucks, the coolness of the cream combined with the heat of his mouth enhancing the eroticism of the kiss.
Moisture gathers between my thighs and I clench them together, wanting to alleviate the discomfort, seeking something more but not knowing what.
There's a glaring emptiness inside of me, and I'd like nothing better than for him to fill it.
"Please," I whimper, my fists wrapped into his shirt, holding him closer.
"Please what, little tigress? I want your words."
"Make the ache go away," I whisper.
"Where do you ache?" His hands start trailing down my body, close to that place that needs him most. A breath catches in my throat as he stops just above my belly button.
"Here?" He asks on a husky tone and I shake my head, trying to guide him lower.
"Here?" He moves only an inch lower, and while the teasing might be amusing to him, for me it's pure torture.
My hand comes down on his, shamelessly placing it between my legs.
"You want me to pet your greedy little pussy?" his words leave me breathless, and the moment I feel his fingers at my center my head falls back on a sob. He's playing with my wetness, splaying it around.
"You're so fucking wet, little tigress," he groans, inserting one finger inside of me. My hips almost jump off the table at the sudden invasion, my mouth open on a sharp moan. "Tell me it's for me. Just for me!" His words are biting in my ear, his harsh tone arousing instead of scaring me.
"Yes, just for you. Please," I answer promptly, everything to make him move. The compulsion to have him deeper, filling me further makes me buck my hips against his hand. He's given me my first taste of lust, and now I want it all.
All too soon, he's gone from my body. I open my eyes, feeling inflamed and bereft. He's standing in front of me, his expression a mixture of desire and curiosity, as if he's seeing me for the first time. All too soon this changes, a slow sensuous smile spreading across his features.
He brings his finger to his mouth, my wetness still coating the digit. He wraps his lips around it, sucking, and I don't think I've ever seen something more tantalizing.
My nipples are painfully erect, them too waiting for his attention. But for now, I just want him back inside me, an insane craving for both pleasure and pain ravishing my body.
God, what's happening to me?
I want him to ravage me, plunge into me and tear me apart only to put me back together again. And somehow, as I look into his eyes, I know he feels the same.
"Enzo?" I ask tentatively when I see he's just staring at me. I want to shout at him, beg him to simply take me, but my pride won't let me go
down that road just yet.
He's on his knees in front of me, parting my legs. Then I feel his tongue — a long swipe that has me writhing under his assault. His palms are on my ass, his fingers digging in my flesh as he brings me closer to his mouth.
He wraps his lips around my clit, teasing, suckling and making me squirm. I grip his hair, tugging at it as he continues his onslaught, my nerves tingling from all the sensations.
He thrusts two fingers into me, a stinging tight fit that makes me gasp. He pumps them in and out of me, his teeth nibbling at my clit, and a cascade of feeling descends upon me. It starts with a slight trembling that turns into an electrifying all body-shudder. I clench around him, my breathing harsh as I'm coming down from my high.
He doesn't stop though. He continues to work his fingers in and out of me, and soon they imitate a scissoring movement.
"Auch," I wince, feeling a sharp pain. I pull at his hair, the pleasure gone and leaving only pain in its wake. "Enzo," I push at him, and at last he stands up, a trace of blood on his lips.
"What..." I frown as he takes his fingers, both covered in a mix of my arousal and blood, and he licks them.
"You're mine now, Allegra." His hand grasps my jaw, bringing my face in front of his. "Your virginity is mine," his words confuse me, but I don't have the time to debate what he's talking about as his mouth comes crashing down on me. On his tongue, I taste myself, and a tinge of iron — the blood of my virginity.
He grips my nape and holds me on to him, the savage assault of his kiss messing with my senses.
This should be wrong.
And yet it can't be. Not when I return the kiss full force, leading him between my open legs, my hands going to his trousers.
Pain... more pain and more pleasure.
I'm ready for everything he has to offer.
I dig my heels into his ass, the bulge of his pants coming in direct contact with my drenched pussy.
"Please," I beg, every other thought leaving me except him.
He chuckles, his hands coming on top of mine to stop me.
"This was all about you, little tigress. There will be time for more." He says, still nuzzling my neck, and I can't help but feel a little disappointed.
But he's right. This is just the beginning. And for the first time I feel like maybe it was all a game of fate, leading me to this man that I'd love nothing more than hate.
But it seems I'm bound to do the reverse.
FOR ALL OF ENZO'S WILLINGNESS to indulge my every whim, he still keeps himself aloof. Sure, we've been spending time together every day and our discussions have skirted around topics like history, religion and philosophy. Yet, I still don't know anything personal about him.
And I yearn for him to let me in.
He's been treating me better than anyone's ever treated me in my life; better than I'd hoped someone ever would. He's constantly there to listen to me, and to make my every wish come true.
But what about him? Who does that for him?
Since restarting our relationship, we haven't talked about fidelity, and I don't want to think that he'd go to another woman, not after touching me so intimately.
Given how much time he's spending with me, I don't even see when he'd find the time to seek someone else.
But he's not letting you touch him...
I shake my head at the intruding thoughts, the possibility too painful to even consider.
Enzo's always touching me and bringing me pleasure, but when I want to do the same for him, he turns me down.
"Just the sight of you coming with my name on your lips is enough to get me off, little tigress," he'd whisper in my ear before kissing me and making me forget about the subject altogether.
What if he doesn't think you can do it?
My eyes widen at the realization... What if he doesn't want me to touch him because I don't know how. Is he seeking pleasure in the arms of someone more experienced? Someone who knows his body?
I swallow hard, the thought physically torturous.
I didn't want to admit it to myself before, my pride being the number one impediment, but I fell for him — harder than I could have ever imagined. He'd started planting the seeds ever since he tended my wounded knee. He wormed himself inside my heart until he remained lodged there.
And now?
Now I feel like I might die when he's not around; when he's not touching me, and whispering tender words in my ear. Even his term of endearment little tigress has grown on me.
I'm falling in love with Enzo Agosti. And it scares me.
"Here," he comes around, passing me some popcorn before settling on the couch next to me.
We've been locked in the cinema room for the entire day, watching a marathon of movies. He'd introduced me to some cult classics, and we'd enjoyed good debates that had ended far too hastily the moment I'd commented on an actor's good looks. Enzo had been quick to prohibit me from ever saying another man's name again.
"Do that again, little tigress, and I might have to order a hit." I'd laughed it off, thinking he was merely joking. But the serious look on his face told me otherwise, so I'd changed the topic.
His irrational possessiveness might have put me off in the past, but now I find myself blushing at his proclamations that I'm his. Because surely, that must mean he cares for me.
"Thank you," I reply, letting my head rest on his shoulder, my arm intertwined with his. He half-turns, laying a soft kiss on my forehead.
It's during moments like these that he makes my heart flutter.
"You know," I start, burrowing into him and wrapping my arm around his waist, "for all your grumpiness, you can be quite sweet." Smiling sheepishly, I look up, curious to see his expression.
"Is that so?" He quirks a brow, amused.
"You are," I add with more confidence, and he cracks a smile.
"Only for you, little tigress. You have no idea how I'm like with everyone else."
"How?" I ask before I can think it through. I don't want him to tell me how he is with other women. Holding myself still, I await his answer.
"You're the only one who gets to see this side of me," he answers before amending, "the only deserving one." I frown at his choice of words.
Deserving.
I'm about to ask what he means by it, but then he continues.
"The other get the monster they created. The only difference is that they never see it coming."
His cryptic words give me pause, and I want to question him further, but once the movie starts, I become captivated by the action on screen.
It's a while later that the door to the cinema room bursts open, and the lights are turned on. We both scramble to get up, squinting to get accustomed to the sudden light.
A tear streaked Lucia runs towards Enzo, hugging him and bawling her eyes out. Enzo freezes, his hands still by his body.
I don't know what's happening, and Lucia doesn't seem to say much besides wailing and lamenting whatever she's lamenting.
A look of pure horror crosses Enzo's face as she keeps on moving her hands all over his body, and I decide it's enough.
Grabbing her arm, I pull her off him, taking my place by his side. He breathes a sigh of relief, and his muscles immediately relax — not that I can't relate since Lucia isn't the most pleasant person.
"What is it, mother?" His voice is gave and cutting as he addresses his mother, and she quickly collapses on the floor, continuing to cry her eyes out.
"Your sister..." she starts, hiccupping, "Romina's dead."
Enzo freezes.
"What do you mean she's dead?"
"They found her," more sobs, "naked and beaten up. Her husband is in custody."
Enzo's face morphs before my eyes, and he pushes my hand away, taking a step to put some distance between us.
"You're telling me," his voice causes a shiver to go down my spine and I instinctively take a step back. "That my brother-in -law killed my sister?"
"What am I to do? My child!" Lucia's sob
s are getting louder, but all I care is Enzo — being there for him.
As I go towards him, to offer him some comfort, he evades my touch, leaving the room.
I'm rooted to the spot, looking at his retreating figure and not knowing how to proceed.
"Bitch," Lucia's transformation is sudden as she wipes away her tears, her diabolical smile returning full force.
God, is this a woman who just lost her child?
She barrels into me on her way out, kicking me to the ground. I barely have time to break my fall, and my elbow catches into one of the seats, my skin peeling on a metal bar. My face contorts in pain and my hand goes to my newly bleeding wound, trying to apply some pressure to alleviate the pain.
"You think you won, don't you? But you don't know Enzo like I do. Soon you'll be out of this house and on the streets." She laughs at my pained expression, and I barely avoid the kick intended for my stomach.
"We'll see, Lucia," I grunt as she leaves the room.
I'm not about to go down easily. And when Enzo's grieving about his dead sister, I'll be there to comfort him.
I FEEL THE RAIN IN my bones, even though the umbrella does a good job of shielding my body. On the sidelines, I can only watch the ceremony before they put Romina in the ground. The immediate family is sitting by the coffin, all of them wearing black and desolate expressions on their faces. All but Enzo that is. His face is somber, his features not giving away anything.
Compared to the wailing Lucia or even the bereft Rocco, you'd think him the most heartless man present, the brother who sheds no tears for his sister.
But I can see it's just a mask for the world. Inside, his grief is threatening to spill out and his might be the most genuine pain of the bunch.
It's been three days since the pronouncement, and I've barely seen my husband. Everyone else's been at the house, gathering for the funeral and wake and turning a tragic event into a merry one.
I'd witnessed Rocco getting drunk with his friends, their voices booming in the house, the memory of Romina nothing more than a passing thought. He'd been angry, but not because his precious daughter had died, but because the family's interests had perished with her.
Morally Decadent (Morally Questionable Book 3) Page 18