Disenchanted

by L. D. Davis

  Marco sang the words like he meant them, and I knew he did. I could feel those three words of the chorus as they settled in my heart. When the song ended, and another began, he stopped singing the words and just whispered them against my lips.

  “I love you.”

  I couldn’t say the words back. I closed my eyes, opened my mouth and tried, but nothing came out. I tried again and failed again. My lashes were wet when I kissed him, when I tried to show him the words I couldn’t say. When he carefully lay me down on the bed, and his thumbs stroked my cheeks as he kissed me, I knew he understood.

  Our clothes went away. There was nothing between us. Just his skin and mine as we kissed with a passion so hot it singed my lips. There was nothing between us moments later, either, no barriers whatsoever when Marco entered me with a guttural moan.

  For long seconds, he didn’t move as he stared down at me. We were both surprised by our daring and carelessness, but I knew we weren’t going to stop. We weren’t going to say, “Oops” and laugh and start over. It felt too good.

  He rocked his hips once and moaned. He did it again with another moan and dropped his head into the space between my neck and shoulder.

  “You feel so amazing,” he panted and kissed my skin.

  My nails lightly dragged over the sides of his body. “So do you.”

  He stared at me again, but as I had suspected, his mouth had set in resignation and an intoxicated glow appeared in his eyes. He wasn’t going to stop, and I didn’t want him to. My hips rose off the bed, making him sink a little deeper inside me. We both groaned, and then with a feral growl, Marco began to move.

  So deep. So hard. Skin to skin. Flesh to flesh. His bare cock sliding into me as my body gripped and welcomed him. There was no mercy granted as he repeatedly thrust into me with such force, the headboard slammed against the wall. There was not even a semblance of control in the man. Hell, there wasn’t a semblance of control in me, either. I screamed his name and dug my nails into his back, arms, and ass hard enough to draw blood.

  When he started to speak in his native tongue, I knew he was close. I didn’t understand all of it, but I got the gist of it from the few words he said in English.

  “Fill you up,” he growled in the middle of a bunch of Italian.

  Yeah, I understood that. It was true that I felt full as it was, but he meant… Damn, I knew what he meant, and I wanted it even though I shouldn’t have. Just the idea, though, just the idea of him coming inside me was enough to push me close to my orgasm.

  “Come on.” His hips slammed against me. “Come on! Come!”

  The instant I felt his cock pulse, I began to climax. I clung to him with my arms and legs wrapped tightly around him, tried to pull him deeper as he came and came, as he did what he’d said and filled me.

  “Don’t let go,” I whimpered as I continued to hold on to him. “Don’t let go. Don’t let go.”

  Marco kissed me deeply as he slowly rocked into me. We were so wet together, so hot and slick. We continued to kiss, and he stayed deep in me, just where I wanted him.

  “Don’t leave,” I whispered mindlessly. It didn’t even make sense, and I almost laughed at myself, but Marco cupped my face and kissed my mouth once more.

  “I won’t. Ever. I promise.”

  I smiled weakly but didn’t answer, because he wasn’t the first to make that promise, and I knew he wouldn’t be the first to break it.

  Chapter Thirty

  I woke up and felt how a person on a diet would feel after they’d binged all night on cookies and greasy potato chips and soda. I felt how a person must feel after they’d been sober for a long time but just indulged in a bottle, or three, of wine, or how a criminal must feel after years of going straight only to break down and commit a crime of desperation. Hopeless, a little stupid, and in total disbelief that I could’ve done something that totally contradicted all my previous actions and behaviors.

  I had sex with Marco. Okay, cool, but I had sex with Marco without a condom, and without any other kind of birth control. Twice. The second time was only about forty minutes after the first. If the average man expelled anywhere from forty million to just over a billion sperm cells in every ejaculation, I had no less than eighty million, maybe as much as two billion potential baby makers just hanging out in my womb and fallopian tubes, waiting for the next egg to swing by. Honestly, I wasn’t one of those women who kept track of my cycle. Every month was a surprise when I got my period. Like, hey, oh yeah. I forgot you were coming. You’ve only been visiting monthly since I was thirteen.

  Maybe I should’ve just counted myself lucky we had stopped at two, and that was most likely because I hadn’t been able to ignore my pain by that point. I’d had to break down and take an oxy, which had knocked me on my ass pretty hard.

  Marco stepped out of his walk-in closet just as I was sitting up, blanket held tight to my body. He was in the process of buttoning the sleeves of a light-blue shirt and was already dressed in a pair of navy slacks and brown shoes. His hair was still damp from the shower, but styled, and he wore the black-rimmed glasses he’d just picked up from the eye doctor a few days ago. He looked like a hot school teacher, the kind that young girls would throw their virginity at. Just the sight of him made my thighs clench together in excitement, and for a breathless, idiotic moment, I was ready to throw the blankets off and welcome him to make another deposit to add to the billion-sperm-swim-a-thon going on in my body.

  His smirk was knowing. “Good morning, Tesoro.”

  In all my thoughts about hot, sticky sex, sperm, and fuckably hot school teachers, I had forgotten all about our fight last night. Not just the fight, but the sadness and desolation I’d felt amongst all those people. I’d forgotten about the differences between us that would never go away.

  However, I couldn’t just jump right back into it, not after the night we’d shared. I didn’t want to be a bitch, although I knew we would eventually have to talk about it, but it didn’t have to be right then.

  I tried to appear bright and cheery, even though bright and cheery were never my thing, and I looked like hell, and my mind was full of jumbled thoughts. “Good morning.”

  He finished buttoning his shirt as he took a seat on the edge of the bed. When he put a hand around the back of my neck and pulled me toward him for a kiss, I didn’t resist. It was always entirely too easy to surrender to his mouth.

  “I decided to let you sleep,” he said softly as he pushed my hair back. “You needed it. How do you feel?”

  “A little groggy, but otherwise okay.”

  I was always in pain. All day every day, but I wasn’t in any more pain than usual. I didn’t want to tell him that, though. He always became overly concerned with something I’d just learned to live with a long time ago.

  “Are you up for brunch with a few friends?”

  I gave him a sideways, distrustful look. “I thought last night was only supposed to be a few friends for a dinner party, and it was bigger than the ball Cinderella went to when she got frisky with the prince.”

  He laughed as his eyes widened with surprise. “Frisky with the prince?”

  “Don’t be naïve, Mangini. You know he probably had his hand up that dress. It’s probably how she really lost her shoe. In the throes of a finger-job orgasm.”

  His laughter made me feel lighter, but it didn’t soften my wariness over “brunch with a few friends.”

  “So, really, how many people are we talking here?”

  “There will be about ten of us in all. You met a couple of them last night.”

  I suddenly remembered when Celeste had told Marco she’d see him tomorrow, just before she kissed his cheek. I squeezed the blanket between my fingers. “Celeste?”

  Marco paused before he nodded slowly. “We are only friends, Lydia. I promise you that.”

  I believed him, but I didn’t believe her. I didn’t believe that she didn’t want to get into my boyfriend’s pants and have a jolly good time. I also wasn
’t thoroughly convinced that he wasn’t the least bit attracted to her, even if they were holding in a just friends status.

  “You never told me about her,” I said softly after a minute.

  His brow furrowed. “Yesterday morning I told you I couldn’t wait for you to meet my best friend.”

  “But you never mentioned that your best friend happened to be created in the image of the goddess Venus.”

  He sighed. “Yes, she is a beautiful woman, but I don’t see her like that.”

  I let out a small cynical laugh. “How can you not? She is more than beautiful, Marco. She is…I don’t even know a word for someone who is more than beautiful. Stunning doesn’t cut it, either. Unworldly? I don’t know. Whatever the word is, she is it.”

  “So, you don’t want me to be friends with her because she is pretty?”

  I shook my head. “I would never tell you who you can be friends with. I’m just…jealous.”

  Marco tugged on the blanket as he stared me in the eye with his brows high. “Do I have to show you again who I belong to and who belongs to me and why you have no reason to ever worry?”

  My face warmed as I clutched the blanket. “No. I probably don’t smell too good right now, and you’re all clean and dressed. Listen, it’s just…it’s nothing. If you want to go to brunch with your friends, we’ll go. As long as Cyan won’t be there. By the way, I can’t believe you dated a girl named after the colors green and blue.”

  Marco stood up and began to unbutton his shirt. I followed the movement of his fingers. “So now you are jealous of Cyan?”

  “Not at all. I just didn’t like her. What the hell are you doing?”

  “Taking my clothes off.”

  My forehead creased as my brows went down. “Why?”

  “Because I don’t want them wrinkled or wreaking of sex,” he said in a tone that implied that was the only obvious answer.

  I frowned. “Were you listening to me? I said I stink.”

  He pulled off the shirt, and despite what he’d said about wrinkles, tossed it onto a chair in the corner. Then his fingers were working the button on his pants as he kicked off his shoes.

  “You smell like us, and the smell of us makes me hard, Tesoro. And the thought of using us as lubrication makes me even harder.”

  I pulled the blanket up to my neck and stared wide-eyed. “If you think the smell of a fish market is attractive, you’re dating the wrong kind of girl, Marco Mangini.”

  He stood beside the bed, gloriously naked, thick and hard cock bobbing almost at level with my face. I stared at it, but not with the horror I was trying to convey. I stared at it like it was my favorite kind of candy.

  Marco grabbed ahold of the blanket, making me snap my eyes up to his. He grinned, and with one strong yank, he took it away, leaving me just as naked as him. I could’ve screeched and played hard to get, but if I had to guess, we didn’t have a lot of time before we had to meet his friends, and the truth was, I was so turned on by him I couldn’t stop myself as I reached for his hip.

  I moved closer to the edge of the bed. “Come here.”

  He gently pushed his fingers through my hair and lovingly cupped my face as I took the tip of him into my mouth.

  “Oh, sweetheart,” he murmured huskily.

  Slowly, I worked him into my mouth, taking his shaft deep until I felt him hit the back of my throat. I held him there for a moment, staring up into his eyes until I felt the need to breathe again.

  “Your mouth feels so good around me, Lydia.”

  He continued to cup my face and stroke my cheek with his thumb. It was funny how someone could make me feel so loved while his dick was in my mouth.

  Marco’s other hand wasn’t so idle, though. His fingertips stroked down my neck and chest and over to one breast. He pinched a nipple just hard enough to cause a bit of pain, but a lot of pleasure. I moaned around his cock as I took him deep again. My knees parted naturally. I had one hand on one of Marco’s hard ass cheeks, but my other hand slipped down between my legs. I was so wet, a wild mixture of my own emanations and his.

  He moaned when he saw my hand begin to rub in a circular motion.

  “Push your fingers inside, Tesoro.”

  I did. I started with one, but soon slipped in a second. I sucked him at the same rhythm that I moved my hand as he switched from nipple to nipple, pinching and squeezing. We were both moaning, completely wrapped up in each other and oblivious to any time constraints.

  “Do you know how beautiful you are like this? How absolutely gorgeous you are sucking on me? With your fingers deep inside you? So fucking beautiful, Tesoro.”

  My mouth was too full to answer, but I sucked his smooth, rigid dick harder. His hand moved away from my tits and he started to rub my clit. It was almost too much to take. My thighs attempted to close over our hands, and when I tried to pull my fingers out, Marco acted quickly and held my wrist.

  “Don’t stop until you come, Lydia.”

  I bit him, not hard, but just enough for him to know he wasn’t completely in charge. He laughed, though, just before he slipped his hand behind my head and shoved himself further into my mouth. He continued to make me fuck myself with my own fingers, not even flinching at the little bit of fight I gave.

  “Go ahead, Tesoro. Bite me again. I like it.”

  I frowned the best I could with a dick in my mouth, but Marco just laughed again. Despite his laughing at me and my indignation, I was suddenly on the edge of an orgasm. My fingers dug into the flesh of his ass. I hummed loudly around his cock. Again, my thighs tried to close around our hands.

  It hit me hard, rolled through my body like a jolt of lightening, making my hips rise off the bed and my body writhe. Marco let me take my fingers out, only to replace them with three of his own. He plunged them in deep and battered that good spot, that spot that always, always sent me far over the edge. I rubbed my clit as he fucked me with his fingers. Quickly, on the heels of my last orgasm, I began to come again, harder than before.

  There was a wet, liquid-like sound where Marco’s fingers plunged in and out of me. I wanted to see how much he’d made me come, but I didn’t want to stop sucking him. He had other plans. He pulled his fingers out of me, slid his cock out of my mouth, and brought those fingers to my lips.

  “Suck,” he demanded, but there was a hint of begging in that one word and in the way he gazed down at me.

  I let him slip those wet fingers into my mouth. We both moaned, and then he bent over and kissed me hard. Sucked on my tongue as if he wanted to swallow any trace I’d left behind while his fingers went back inside me. A moment later, as he kissed me, one of his fingers slipped into my mouth. Before I knew it, we were both licking his fingers, our tongues fighting for a taste.

  He stood suddenly, removed his glasses, and stroked himself.

  “Lay down, love.”

  I paused. “You don’t want to finish in my mouth?”

  He shook his head slowly but continued to stroke. “No. Not right now. Lay down, Lydia. This won’t take long.”

  I thought about the risks we’d already taken, but really, what was one more at this point? So, I did as he said and lay down. My worries seemed to disappear the instant he entered me, cursing in Italian. There was nothing in the world that could compare to the way my body reacted every time that man was inside me. It didn’t matter how tired I was, how sore, or how many times I’d climaxed before. Once he was in me, that fullness returned, a sense of completion I’d never had before with anything.

  His movements were slower this time, slow and easy. Still, he went in deep with each stroke. Made me moan and whimper and mutter nonsense.

  “So good,” I gasped. “So damn good. You always feel so damn good, baby.”

  His forehead dropped to mine and he closed his eyes. His barely controlled breaths came out against my mouth, and there was desperation in his whispered words.

  “I always want you. Always. Every damn day. All day. Every hour. Every minute I want yo
u, Lydia. Cazzo.” He groaned and swept his tongue into my mouth. “Always. Always want you and your body. Always want to be inside you.” He drew in a ragged breath and let it out slowly. “Never want you any other way ever again.”

  His arms slid under my body. There was no space between us now. None. Not one inch. He was deeply seated inside me. Our arms were wrapped tight around each other. His mouth was on mine. Our hearts beat in the same crazy cadence. It was like that, with us locked as close together as possible, with the heat of our skin burning a hole in the ozone, Marco shuddered, and a second later I felt it. The throbbing of his cock, and the liquid warmth of his orgasm.

  I didn’t let myself think of the possible consequences or the day ahead. Instead, I kept my arms around him, stopped thinking for a change, and just let myself feel.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  I was ready to get dressed in a pair of jeans, an oversized sweater, my old, worn leather jacket, and a beanie, but Marco stopped dead in his tracks when he saw what clothes I had laid out on the stripped bed.

  “Oh, I should have warned you…” The small, hesitant curl of his lips might’ve been a giant red flag waving wildly in the breeze—an obvious sign that I wouldn’t like whatever he should’ve warned me about.

  I waited a beat to see if he’d continue, and when he didn’t, I counted to three and narrowed my eyes at him. “Should’ve told me what?”

  “We are going to the Dower.”

  “The what?”

  “The Dower. It is an exclusive member’s only club. Saturday morning brunches are one of the rare incidences we are allowed a guest.”