by Hart, Callie
I see him, and I see all of these things about him, in the time it takes to inhale a lungful of sharp winter air and step off the curb on the main street, heading in his direction. When he looks over and sees me, our eyes lock, and I realize just how incredibly, totally, absolutely fucked I am.
Alex Moretti isn’t just the kind of guy you fall in love with in high school. He isn’t just the guy who steals your heart for a summer, and then fades from your affections, becoming nothing more than a rose-tinted memory in your rearview mirror. Alex Moretti is the kind of guy who sweeps into your life like a wildfire, torching anything and everything you’ve ever cared about before he makes himself perfectly at home, rooting himself down so deep into your soul that it becomes impossible to differentiate where you end and he begins.
A slow, wicked smile spreads across his handsome face and my heart does a triple pike backflip off a fifteen-meter high board. The world’s such a big fucking place, and Raleigh is so damn small. The odds that I’d be born here, and that Alessandro Moretti would end up moving here to work at an establishment of ill-repute are so infinitely small that it all feels orchestrated. Like the universe picked out the trillions of molecules required to construct our individual bodies and arranged for them to come together at this specific time, in this specific place for some specific purpose.
Alex pushes away from the brick wall of Harrison’s Home Hardware and Electrical Supplies with a leonine grace and begins to walk toward me like some sort of demi-god, freshly fallen to the earth. The flare of amusement in his dark eyes promises trouble. He meets me at the curb, slowly removing his hands from his pockets and placing them on my hips. A second later, my feet are off the ground and he’s lifting me up the lip of the sidewalk and planting me down next to him.
“Hey there, Argento,” he says, the left-hand side of his mouth tilting upward so that the faintest hint of a dimple marks his cheek. “Figured you were about five minutes away from standing me up.”
A slow smile aches at my mouth. “So, if I’d shown up in five minutes, you’d have given up on me and left?”
He’s so tall—an imposing, muscled, broad figure of a guy, towering over me, dark hair backlit from the sodium-yellow glow of the street light over our heads. He still looks entertained, his eyes slightly narrowed as he dips down closer to me. His warm breath chases away the cold night air as he whispers softly into my ear. “You know I wouldn’t have left, Argento. I’m a lovesick dog. You told me to meet you here, so here I would have stayed, in the rain and the snow and the cold until you eventually came to find me and put me out of my misery.”
My pulse quickens in the hollow of my throat, erratic and dizzying. He’s playing. He wouldn’t have waited here for me if I’d stood him up. No way. He would have come to find me. He would have tracked me down no matter what the weather was doing and stolen me away into the night, kicking and screaming. Except I wouldn’t have fought my abduction. He won me fair and square. I belong to him now, the same way that he belongs to me. We’re connected, sealed together, so immersed in each other that some days I’m a little intimidated by how in tune we are. Cut one of us and the other bleeds. Maybe not physically true, but emotionally…
Alex stands straight, cupping my face in his palms. It’s below freezing tonight. He’s been waiting outside the hardware store for god knows how long, but his hands are still warm. “Your hair’s full of snow,” he murmurs.
“So’s yours.” A fat flake lands on the tip of his eyelashes, brilliant white against the black, curved strands that rim his eyes. For a second, the very sight of him standing in front of me, his strong jawline, and his pronounced cheekbones, and his intense, penetrating gaze boring into me makes my ribs squeeze tight in a protective cage around my heart.
He's so devastatingly handsome. He’s so imperfectly perfect. He’s so…he’s so fucking dangerous. I’ve always been so careful with my feelings, even before Jacob Weaving came along and blew up my life, but now it feels as though I’ve been reckless. I put on a good show for myself. Pretended I wasn’t going to fall for the most inappropriate guy to ever walk through the doors of Raleigh High, but it was all an embarrassingly flimsy act. I knew I was going to hand myself over to him blindly, with a rash kind of abandon that now scares the living shit out of me.
If he wanted to, Alex could crush me in a way that would affect me for the rest of my life. He could break my heart into a trillion pieces, grind it to dust and scatter it on the frigid northerly wind and there would be no way of retrieving it. I’d have to live out the rest of my days, a heartless, broken, hollow girl with the aching memory of his lips on my mouth and there would be nothing I could do about it.
His salacious smirk fades a little as he rubs the pads of his thumbs lightly across the lines of my cheekbones. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
I am amazing at hiding my thoughts and feelings. Amazing. Which makes it all the more intimidating that Alex can just look into my eyes, reach down into my soul, and pluck out my truths. I have no way of hiding myself from him.
Nervously, I smile, forcing out a shaky laugh. “Oh, y’know. Just pondering how terrifying you are.”
His smile turns tight. Reproving, and just a tiny little bit sad. He bumps the end of my nose with his own, playful, but there’s a heaviness to his voice when he speaks. “And here I was, thinking I’d found a girl who wasn’t afraid of me.”
“I’m not afraid of you. Just what’ll happen if…”
He arches an eyebrow, very still, waiting for me to continue.
“If you decide to move on, crush my heart under your boot heel, and break me,” I rush out, giving him another round of awkward laughter that sounds kind of pathetic, actually.
Alex’s face goes blank, but his eyes burn with a fire that makes me forget we’re standing out on a snowy street in the middle of November. “Break you?” he whispers. “I don’t break the things I love, Argento. I fix them. I repair them. I treasure them. I do ridiculous, insane, very illegal things to make sure I don’t lose them. I sure as hell don’t break them. I also do not wear boots.”
I’m not an insecure person. I’m not the kind of person who worries about their boyfriend leaving them all the time. At least, I hope I’m not; I have zero experience when it comes to boyfriends. The stakes just seem so high in this particular situation that a little worry seemed prudent. Looking up at Alex, all of that worry and niggling doubt disintegrates, though. He’s telling the truth. He dug up a dead man through eight feet of frozen dirt to get his mother’s necklace back, for fuck’s sake. If he’d do that for a necklace, then what would he do for me?
He leans down, pressing his mouth against mine, and I fall slack against him. It happens every time—my body is so ill-equipped to deal with Alex kissing me that it always feels like I’m about to disintegrate myself. Like the molecular bonds that fuse my cells together are shaken loose by his closeness and I’m slowly, irreversibly beginning to drift into the ether. He parts my lips, guiding them open, and I moan softly into his mouth as he slips his tongue past my teeth, probing and sweeping, insistent as he tastes me. I lean into him, my back arching, my chest crushing up against him, and Alex slides a hand down to the small of my back, pulling me even closer. His breath hitches in his throat, catching, and he lets out a pained groan.
I’m so grateful that I didn’t wear gloves as I reach up and wind my fingers into his hair. The thick, fullness of it feels amazing as I collect myself up off the floor long enough to kiss him back. His breath quickens, dragging in and out of his nose as he sucks my bottom lip into his mouth and roughly bites down. The sharp spear of pain makes me gasp, a startled, needy, pant of sound that seems to have a pretty wild effect on Alex. He slides his other hand away from my face, around to the back of my neck, and he grips me there, holding me in place against him as he forces my mouth open wider, tugging at my top lip.
My head spins faster than a centrifuge as he grinds his hips forward and his erection digs into my hip, demonstrating just
how rock-hard the kiss is making him.
Oh, my fucking god…
If we weren’t standing on the corner of the busiest street in all of Raleigh right now…
Screw it. I’m not thinking straight. I’m barely thinking at all as I slide my hand between our bodies, using the thick wool of my jacket to shield my actions, and I take hold of Alex’s cock through his jeans.
He stops kissing me instantly. Pulls back. Stares down at me, pupils blown, full lips parted, cheeks flushed against the cold. “Silver—”
I squeeze, my fingers closing around the thickness of him, slowly moving up down to stroke…
Alex’s eyes shutter closed. “Holy fuck. What are you doing?”
“What I’ve been thinking about doing since this morning,” I whisper into his open mouth.
I feel him smile against my lips. “You’ve been turned on all day, Dolcezza?”
“Yes.”
He groans again, his fingernails digging into the back of my neck. “Fuuuck. You have no fucking idea how badly I want you right now.”
“I think…I do.”
“Why? Are you wet, Silver? Are you wet for me right now?”
I dip my head, letting my hair hide the fact that I’m blushing like crazy, but Alex takes hold of me by the chin, lifting my head until I have to meet his eyes. “Oh no. No way. I’m not buying the shy act when you’ve got your hand on my dick.” His laughter is deep, gravelly, rough with desire. The sound of his need, so blatantly fucking obvious in his voice, sends a shiver of anticipation chasing down my spine. “Get your ass over here.” He takes me by the hand, tugging me toward the brick wall of the hardware store where he was leaning a moment ago.
My jacket is thick enough that I don’t feel the sharp texture of the brick against my back when Alex leans me against the building, but the icy cold manages to seep through just fine. It doesn’t matter, though. Nothing matters, because Alex is nuzzling his face into my neck, placing searing kiss after searing kiss against the sensitive skin at the base of my throat, and I can’t remember how to breathe. He’s close against me, chest pressing up against chest, but there’s still room for him to mirror my brazen move and slide his hand between our bodies. He doesn’t touch me over my jeans. His hand quickly dips below the waistband of my jeans, and then his fingers are deftly pulling my panties aside, and—
“Ahh! Fuck!” I tip my head back against the brick, sucking in a sharp, agonizingly cold breath as Alex’s fingers find my clit.
“Christ, Silver.” I look up at him and almost pass the fuck out when I see the wild expression on his face. “You’re not wet,” he pants. “You’re fucking soaking.” With small, deliberate sweeps of his fingers, Alex rolls my clit, rubbing it in a circular motion, and I have to bite back a startled cry.
“Shhh,” Alex growls softly. “Hold it in, Dolcezza. My needy girl. Don’t worry. I’m gonna give you what you need. I’m gonna make you come.” With a swift, gently thrust, he pushes his index finger forward, slipping it inside me.
I freeze, unable to move for a second as I register what he’s just done. My body’s gone into shock. A hot, burning pulse of pleasure fires between my legs, and I let out a soundless whimper. Alex grins mercilessly, a raw, fascinated glint in his eyes as he watches me react to his touch.
“That feel good, Argento?” he whispers.
“Ye—fuck. Yes, it feels good.”
He releases a pleased sigh. “Glad to hear it. Now what do you want? You want me to fuck you with my fingers?”
The charged words skate over my skin, inciting a very physical response from me. I tighten around Alex’s fingers and he snarls, deep and low at the back of this throat. “Fuck me. Your body’s giving me a resounding fuck yes.” He grazes his mouth over mine, pausing to flick at my lip with the very tip of his tongue. “I’d like the words, though. I wanna hear you say it. So I know…”
Oh shit. How the fuck am I going to get those words out? I’ve come a long way since we started dating, but it’s not exactly easy for me to say things like that. Alex’s mouth is filthier than a sailor’s, but I’m still figuring out how to voice what I want in no-nonsense terms. “I—” Fuck, it doesn’t help that I’m so turned on right now, I can barely make my mouth work. “I want it, Alex. I want you to fuck me with your fingers. Please.”
Pride shines in Alex’s eyes. “Good girl. Brave girl.” He peppers the side of my face with kisses as he slowly pumps his index finger inside me, and my mind goes utterly and completely blank. Fuck, that feels…that feels so fucking good. I struggle to keep myself upright as I wind my arms around his neck, bringing him down to kiss me.
This is really risky. It's late, and the streets are dark. There aren’t many cars on the roads. I haven’t seen anyone actually walking on the street since I parked the Nova, but the fact remains that Alex Moretti is fingering me in public, and I’m letting him do it. Anyone could see us. At any second, someone could walk around the corner and stumble across us, sprawled up against the wall, breathing heavily, Alex’s hand working steadily between my legs. Best case scenario: embarrassment levels would be high. Worst case scenario: we’d be taken down to the sheriff’s office for performing lewd acts in public.
I should put a stop to this. It’d be really fucking stupid if we got caught, but…
I can’t make him stop. Fuck, I don’t want him to stop.
Alex bites at my neck, teeth gouging into my skin, and I lean into the pain of it, relishing every second. His fingers work faster, expertly teasing wave after wave of pleasure from me, and I am a boneless marionette, entirely at his mercy as he puppets me, bringing me closer and closer to the edge.
“Oh, fuck. Fuck, Alex. Please.” I don’t even know what I’m asking him so desperately for. For him to stop? For him to put me out of my misery and send me hurtling over the precipice of my orgasm? I can’t decide. All I know is that both my body and my soul are on fire and any moment now I’m going to be lost to the flames.
“Let go,” Alex rumbles into my hair. “Stop holding back. Give me everything, Argento. Let me have it.”
God, I can’t take it anymore. I can’t fucking think. Moving quickly, I push him back far enough that I can rip open his leather jacket, hike up his t-shirt and unbutton his jeans.
“Whoa, Silver, sto—” His protest cuts off when I drive my hand down the front of his jeans and I take hold of him. The words come to a jarring halt on his lips. A deep, satisfying pleasure courses through my veins, racing around my body, when I see how badly my touch is affecting him. He wants me. He craves me just as badly as I crave him, and that knowledge makes me feel so fucking powerful. I’m quick but gentle as I reposition him, teasing his dick so that it’s upright and the swollen head of his cock is protruding from the top of his jeans. Alex looks down at his erection, at my hand that’s shoved down his boxers, exposing him, and a violent, urgent shudder racks his body.
“Silver…”
“Don’t tell me not to. I want you to come, too.”
“In your hand. Here, in the street?” he growls.
“Yes.”
“Fuck.” His mouth crashes down on mine, and I surrender myself to the madness of the moment. I don’t give a shit if someone walks around the corner anymore. I don’t care if Sheriff Hainsworth himself rolls up in his squad car and slaps a pair of handcuffs on us. The only thing that matters is the heavy, pulsing need churning inside me. The frantic, animalistic need that grips me as Alex consumes me in his kiss. The dazed, tense look on his face when he pulls back, as I begin to work my hand up and down the length of his erection.
His free hand claws at my shirt; he fists the material, yanking it up around my neck, and the next thing I know he’s pulling the cups of my bra down, exposing my breasts to the winter air, taking a painfully tight nipple into his mouth and sucking on it hard.
“Ahh! Shit! Shit!” I let my head fall back against the wall again, panting as he licks and bites, thrusting his fingers into me faster and faster, my pussy ach
ing with pleasure. He’s rigid in my hand, slick, pre-cum wetting his soft, silken smooth skin, making it so easy for my palm to glide up and down his shaft. Alex lets out a savage, raw snarl, angling his wrist, using his thumb to rub against my clit as he continues to drive his fingers inside me, and I can’t fucking take it anymore.
“Fuck, Alex, I’m—you’re gonna make me come,” I pant.
“Good. Fucking do it. Do it. Come for me, Silver. Come on.”
The orgasm isn’t a slow, gradual build. It’s instant, explosive, and takes me out at the knees. I can’t keep quiet. I know my urgent, breathless cry of ecstasy echoes down Main Street, too loud, too obvious, but I can’t bring myself to care. Alex has some sense about him, at least. He clamps his hand over my mouth, pressing his forehead against mine as I buck and shudder against his hand, riding out the most intense orgasm I’ve ever fucking experienced. I close my teeth around one of his fingers, clamping down, my eyes rolling back into my head, and Alex swears harshly under his breath.
My pulse is racing out of control. I close my hand tighter around his dick, shuttling my fist up and down his now fully exposed cock, and Alex hisses through his teeth. “God, Silver. Careful. If you don’t stop—”
I’m not going to stop. My entire body is still tingling and numb from my climax, but the powerful implosion of it has subsided and it’s his turn now. I grab hold of him with my other hand, using it to rub and squeeze the tip of his dick as I jerk him off, and Alex lets out a guttural, wordless, rasping sound. His eyes flicker between my face and the narrow gap between our bodies; he seems gripped by the sight of my hands working and teasing at him, and I realize very fucking quickly that the fascination on his face is a major turn on.
He falls forward, bracing himself against the wall with both hands over my head, baring his teeth as he stares down at what I’m doing. I quicken my pace, using my thumb to massage the fat bead of precum that’s pearling against the head of his cock into his skin.
“Jesus Christ, Silver. Jesus…I’m—fuuuuuck!”
