Twisted Fate: A Forbidden Romance

by Ella James

  She is small and soft and so, so perfect as I pull her onto my lap. She straddles me, kissing my throat, and I arch back, almost flipping the chair over. I hoist her onto my shoulder as I push the chair back with my legs, and then I feign a jog toward the bedroom.

  She’s laughing, the sound filling the small cabin, and I’m thrown back to another night where we both broke rules. At Jace’s family’s place, I picked her up when she made it down that rope ladder and ran toward the water. That night, we sat on the dock, in between two boats, and I remember we took our time.

  I know, before I even toss her on the bed, that this is going to be different. Whereas earlier was a spark that fanned into an unrelenting lust, tonight is just a goddamn wildfire. I’m on top of her; she’s pulling off my clothes, and I’m laughing because my body feels like it’s coming alive.

  Then she shoves me down and kisses my throat till I’m moaning, shivering, rocking my hips. She’s rubbing her leg against me, biting my mouth, teasing my nipple, and I can’t help yelling out. I think I’m gonna come…but she jumps off me like she did this morning, stretching out on her back, pulling her breasts out of the top of her bra, pushing it down before I crawl atop her, unfasten it.

  We kiss until we’re groaning, and then I’m nipping and licking, kissing and sucking, making her writhe like I’ve pictured for—how has it been this long?—more than a decade. Her pert breasts are fuller, heavy, but she likes my mouth just the same. By the time I reach between her legs, working my fingers under a sweet little red thong, she’s so wet that it’s soaking through the fabric.

  I look up at her from between her spread legs, making my voice a whisper over her soft thigh as I rasp, “Tell me what you want, la mia rosa…”

  She sinks her fingers into my hair, pulling. “I want you to make me come.” She rubs my head, as if saying sorry for the brutal tugging, and then she’s got her leg moving between mine. She’s teasing with her knee and I’m—again—about to come from that and from her cunt under my mouth, from my tongue tracing up and down her swollen slit, and from the way she feels around my fingers: hot and tight and perfect. We’re both moaning. I’m so drunk on lust I can barely lick and suck her, but it doesn’t matter. Every time my tongue rolls over her, she cries out. I can tell she’s close, and when she’s bending her legs, when she’s lifting her hips, her face is flushed, and I’m not sure who’ll get off first, she presses her palm to my forehead and whispers, “Luca…”

  I look up, and her fingers stroke my forehead. “Do you have a condom?”

  “Mm?”

  Her eyes look glazed. “Do you have a condom, cuore?”

  There’s this second where the sound fades out—where I can’t comprehend her words—and then I’m bowing back over her. Her foot rubs down my leg. “Luca…ho bisogno di fare sesso con te.”

  “Say it in English.” I feel dizzy as she smiles, a little pink on both her cheekbones.

  “Fuck me,” she says hoarsely.

  I wrap my arm around her waist and press my face against her hip.

  “I want to feel you,” she whispers.

  I suck a breath in. “I don’t have one.”

  “Does that matter?” Her hands stroke through my hair. “Does it matter for you?”

  I’m trying not to look at her, but now I have to. Is she asking if…

  “Would it be okay…from your end?” Her voice is so soft I can barely hear it.

  “You should never skip the condom, rosa.”

  “It’s okay for me. No risk here on my end. And I’m on birth control.”

  My dick throbs as I realize she’s trying to tell me she isn’t fucking anybody.

  “Fuck, rosa.”

  “That’s the suggestion.” She giggles, pushing up on her elbows, and I lick her just to buy some time to think.

  “If you’re not…in favor of it, it’s okay.” I glance up, finding her arm over her face. “I won’t be upset if you can’t.”

  I take a few big, deep, panted breaths, fighting a war inside my head. I guess she can tell. She rubs her hand behind my head and gives my arm a tug, urging me to come and lie beside her. Then she wraps me close, kissing along my jaw and up behind my ear, until chills spread all over my skin.

  “I don’t want to make this weird. I’m okay with anything we do. But I would…like to feel you again.” It’s the barest whisper.

  I frame her face with my hands, dotting kisses on her lips and nose and cheeks. “How are you so brave?” I whisper.

  She laughs. “I’m not brave.”

  I kiss her deeply, till we’re panting again. “Yes you are. Unless it’s only physical.”

  “How could it be?” Her whisper is warm on my jaw.

  Her hands stroke my hair, cupping the back of my head. “You are beautiful.” She kisses my cheek. “I just want to feel you one more time.”

  I can’t help a groan as her hands move down the front of me, lingering at my lower abs, where she traces the ridges. “You have done a nice job here,” she murmurs…and her hands move down. Her hands are wrapped around my dick and stroking as her face comes closer to mine. “My Luca is a full-grown man.” Her fingers stroke the tip of me, teasing around the rim. “I hate to see him hot and bothered…like there’s something else he needs.”

  She leans down, reaching between my legs till her hand cups my balls.

  I moan. “That feels so good, doesn’t it?” She rolls them and then traces the taut skin with gentle fingertips. “When we were younger and I did this, and they got harder, that meant you were going to come.”

  I groan. I’m about to come right now. I think of pushing inside her heat, and my body trembles.

  Her fingers move up my thick shaft. “I never understood people who say this isn’t pretty. Penises are beautiful.” She kisses my chest. “Especially yours.”

  I try to think of something I don’t like—try to hold off—and then she’s drawing away from me. I open my eyes, feeling a shot of worry, but she’s moving like she’s going to straddle me, and then she’s doing just that. Her hands stroke my quads, and then she’s tracing my abs again.

  She surrounds my tip with a squeezing fist.

  “Elise…”

  She strokes me, slow and firm. “You’re about to come, I can tell. You’re shaking and there’s goosebumps everywhere. And this—” She traces my nipple, and I groan.

  “You know what I want,” she whispers.

  Something in me snaps, and I push her into the mattress, shifting so now I’m the one on top. “What do you want, la mia rosa?” I nip at her jawline. “How sure are you?” I mean to use a harder tone, but the words come out groans.

  “I want you inside. Just this one time.” She grabs my shoulders, urges me onto my back, and climbs atop me, flipping us again. “Tell me you don’t want to feel me again.”

  “I don’t want to hurt you,” I rasp.

  “We’re not children.” I can feel her straddling my hips, but I’m so fucked up, I can’t get my eyes to open. “That’s right,” she whispers, her hand stroking from my balls to my tip, where she grips underneath my head and guides me to her slick heat. Then she’s rubbing me around, and I can’t help a low moan and a shudder.

  “Feels good?” No words can describe the bliss of her soft, swollen lips, and then I feel her inhale, steady my shaft with a shaking hand. My eyes flip open and lock with hers as she rises on trembling legs and groans, taking the tip of me inside her.

  “Ahhh…” Her face is rapt, her breasts heaving. She shuts her eyes, I wrap my hands around her thighs, and Elise sinks down on me slowly.

  I make a guttural noise as she sinks further down, encasing me in her heat. Her soft body trembles atop me. Her cunt is tight. Her hands are everywhere. I feel my balls draw up and run my hand up her leg, to her hip; I’m feeling for her…then I’ve got her. I stroke her slick clit, drunk on lust as she bucks and moans. My body’s shaking, but I lift her up a little bit and sink her back down on me.

  Elise cries o
ut.

  I’m moaning.

  Again…again…again. She gasps and groans. Then she’s finding her own rhythm. I crack my eyes open, watching as her tits bounce and her mouth makes a small circle.

  “Bellissima,” I whisper. I rub my fingertip over the bud of her clit, skating through the slickness. As she writhes atop me, I can feel my cock swell. I shut my eyes, trying to stamp each sensation in my memory. She’s so tight and hot. I stroke her clit again, and she quivers around me.

  “Luca…”

  “What do you want?”

  “Make me come.” Her voice wobbles. With a deft and careful fingertip, I tease her for a minute, making her arch her back and thrust her hips harder, faster. I circle again, small strokes of her clit until she’s crashing down on my cock and we’re both near screaming.

  She comes first, her pleasure squeezing me, and I come so hard, I don’t even think to lift her off me. I guess it’s okay. I laugh, and she’s laughing, too. She leans down atop me, and I’m still inside her as she wraps her arms around me.

  19

  Elise

  It’s funny how he’s just the same. He’s falling asleep from the moment we finish, but he wants to pull me up against his chest and hug me. I can see him struggling to keep his eyes open, trying to discern my mood as he smooths my hair back then tucks my head against his chest.

  I watch with a smile as he twitches and falls asleep with one arm around me. We’re both sort of lying on our sides. His chin is tucked down to his chest, and his face is pressed near my throat. My hand skates up and down his back. If I use my fingernails, he’ll sort of shiver, murmur, and then snuggle closer to me.

  I try to tell myself to keep things low-key, but with him pressed against me like this, I can’t help wrapping myself around him. My damaged boy, who’s now a gorgeous man with the most beautiful body—and, somehow, the same kind eyes.

  When he stirs after a few minutes, he leans away so he can see me, and his lips are tucked into a sleepy smile. “You good?” His voice is gravelly and low.

  I nod, stroking his hair. “Yeah…are you?”

  He tucks his head against my throat, his cheek against my chest, and wraps me in a tight hug. He falls back asleep, his knee jerking just slightly where it’s nestled in between my thighs. I shouldn’t keep rubbing his back—I think that woke him up—so I hug him against me, close my eyes, and try to memorize this moment: all his bulky weight against me. The way he smells—like shampoo and male. His hair is so soft—that surprises me. There are a few scars on his back…in addition to that painful-looking scar on his hip.

  I inhale near his hair, and his muscles twitch as if he’s dreaming. Poor Luca. I wonder if he sleeps well most nights. But he was always like this. Every time he came when we were younger, he’d be half asleep right after. I remember I longed for the day when I could hold him just like this, and we’d have time and space to be together properly. I thought that would happen at my college apartment.

  The same old feeling rises up—regret, I guess it is. But it’s not as sharp-edged this time. Drinking in his big, bare body, feeling his warm skin under my arm, smelling his hair…I can’t see this man—the man they called the Blue-Eyed Devil, the Houdini Don—as anything but Luca.

  I spend some time as we lie there telling myself he probably is different. But the truth is that it doesn’t matter to me. I choose this night with him no matter the circumstances. I deserve the closure. It’s not wrong for me to want to see who he became. To want to touch him again. It’s not weird that I feel like I’ve gone to heaven with his arms around me. He was my first love.

  His shoulder twitches, and I try to close my eyes and relax against him. I tuck my cheek against his hair, and that’s when he shouts.

  He jerks up out of my arms, eyes wide as he stares at the wall ahead, and then his hand is covering his face. I touch his back, and he jumps.

  “Fuck.”

  He looks over his shoulder at me, and his face transforms like he’s in shock. “Rosa.” His eyes shut as his jaw clenches.

  “Are you okay?”

  He nods, looking back at me. He nods just a second too long. Then he stretches out beside me again, on his back, as I reach down for blankets. I cover both of us, and he shifts onto his side, facing me, his cheek atop his raised arm.

  “Sorry,” he whispers as I lie down beside him.

  “Don’t be sorry.” I curve my palm around his stubble-rough cheek. “I’m sorry.”

  He shuts his eyes. When he doesn’t open them right away, I take a risk and shift so I can pull him up against me. “Tesoro…”

  I smooth my palm down his nape, stroke his back. I think I feel him tremble but it must just be my hand. He lifts his head, giving me a crooked smile; it’s tired but now more peaceful.

  “Thank you,” he says. It’s a little raspy.

  “Thank you.” I kiss his forehead…then his eyes. That’s how I know he must be shaken up—because his lashes are damp.

  He wraps me against him…squeezes me against him. I can feel him inhale deeply. He kisses my temple and lets the breath out.

  “Sorry. I’m still fucked up, I guess.”

  “You’re still beautiful. And you’re fine. It’s okay.”

  For the longest time, we look into each other’s eyes, and he looks so sad that it rips at my heart. Then he smiles again. His hand comes behind my head, the other one around my back. He’s holding me against him like this closeness is all he needs. I’m stroking his nape and he’s squeezing tighter. He wraps a leg over mine. He’s still taking long, deep breaths.

  “Tell me what’s the matter, cuore…”

  “Nothing.”

  “Yeah?”

  He nods. “I feel good.”

  He looks down—I think he’s looking down—but then his mouth finds mine. He kisses me until we’re panting. We break away, looking into one another’s eyes. I feel dazed.

  “Tell me something good,” he whispers. His forehead rests against my shoulder.

  I stroke his hair, moving from the nape up. “Bees shake their butts to tell other bees where the good food is.”

  I think I can feel him smile against me.

  “Also, cows have best friends.”

  His voice is muffled when he says, darkly, “That’s not good news.”

  “Um, I guess that’s sort of true. Palate cleanser: Penguins propose to their lifelong mates with a little stone, like a little smooth pebble.”

  He nods, his fist closing around a lock of my hair. “Better.”

  “Seahorses. They mate for life, and when they travel, they hold onto one another’s tails.”

  He nods, and I grin. “I heard in puppy litters, boys will let the girls win even if they’re bigger. Also, this: Did you know the actors who played Minnie and Mickey Mouse were married in real life?”

  “Were they?” I get just a peek of his eyes.

  “Sure were. Ooh, and here’s another one! The Pillsbury Doughboy—he has a name. Do you know what it is?”

  I hear the smile in his voice. “No.”

  “Poppin’ Fresh.”

  “What?” I feel him laugh before he lifts his head to look at me. “How do you know this?”

  I grin. “General Mills put out a history. Guess what his wife’s name is.”

  He makes a funny face. “Frieda?”

  “Poppie. And their kids are Popper and Bun-Bun.”

  Luca frowns, narrowing his eyes. “I could have done better than that.”

  That makes me laugh. “What would you have gone with?”

  “Something more original for Popper. And Bun-Bun’s not even really a name.” He’s still frowning skeptically.

  I kiss him lightly on the lips.

  His face goes somber as he looks at me. “Why are you doing this?”

  My throat tightens, so I have to swallow before I whisper, “Doing what?”

  Luca

  She looks startled by what I said, which makes me feel like hell. I lean in and brus
h a kiss over her temple, buying myself a second—so when I talk, my voice is steady.

  “Why are you so…good to me?” Still, I can barely say the words without going hoarse.

  “I’m here because I wanted to see you. And I don’t think I’m being so good.”

  Her thumb traces over my cheekbone, and I inhale deeply. I swallow, and she traces my brow. Her fingertip trails down my jawline…over my chin…and then, so slowly, down my throat. She strokes my Adam’s apple and my collarbone. She traces the shoulder scar again.

  “It’s a little bumpy there.” Her voice is a soft rasp.

  “Metal.” I swallow, shutting my eyes.

  “There’s some metal in there? Like a plate or pin?”

  I nod, not wanting to move my head too much, lest she stop touching me.

  “Can you feel it?” she murmurs.

  “Sort of.”

  “So you must have really jacked your shoulder up, huh? If you needed something done so long after it happened.” She kisses the spot.

  She kisses there again, and I can feel my dick swell. Another kiss on my throat, then my chin…and now I’m hard. She kisses my cheek, right by my nose, and my eyelid.

  I want to wrap an arm around her shoulders, but I can’t let myself keep…taking. So I just lie there as she kisses my mouth. As her tongue traces the seam of my lips, and I open for her, and she thrusts in. I’m grabbing deep breaths, trying to stay still and quiet.

  Eventually, I can’t help myself. I hold her head and lock an arm around her. I try to kiss her but can’t get my mouth to mold to hers. I can’t do anything but moan—just like an animal. Once I start, I can’t stop. She’s kissing me, fucking my mouth, when I start shaking.

  It starts so fast that I don’t know what’s going on, but she does. She must, because suddenly she isn’t kissing me. She presses her cheek to mine like she used to and moves onto all fours—elbows and knees—above me, and she wraps her forearms and her hands around the top of my head.