“Sorry,” I manage to say, trying to breathe, trying to make sense of it all.
I can’t believe he just fingerbanged me on his kitchen island.
I still can’t believe I’m here.
I’m in a stupor, barely paying attention as he pulls my underwear down until it’s dangling off one foot.
“Do you have a condom?” he asks.
I nod slowly. Lick my lips. “Purse.”
He digs into my purse hanging off the chair and pulls out a condom.
I wince a little. This is my first reminder of Marco.
I know it’s Luciano’s first reminder too because he stares at the foil for a moment, breathing hard.
“I’m on the pill,” I tell him. “I’m clean.”
I want to tell him I used condoms with Marco because I didn’t trust him.
But I trust Luciano.
He nods. Gives his head a shake. He’s thinking about something.
“It’s fine,” he says roughly.
He strides over to me, picks me up and places me on the ground, then pulls me over to the floor to ceiling windows that look over the busy avenue below.
Places my palms up above my head and against the glass.
Pushes his hand on the small of my back, making my back arch, my ass sticking out.
He’s going to fuck me right here where anyone can see it. There’s a canopy of trees blocking the view from the street, but still. What about the neighbors?
I glance at him over my shoulder and watch as he rolls the condom on over his cock, his dark brows drawn together in concentration. He meets my eyes for a moment and they flare with intensity.
He doesn’t give a shit about the neighbors, that’s for sure.
With one hand gripping my hips, the other positions his dick at my entrance, still wet and ready from earlier. I’m still turned on as hell, as if that orgasm was just priming the way for another one.
More than that, I want, need, oh god how I need to feel him. Not just his fingers. I need to feel him inside me. I wish he wasn’t wearing the condom, but I’m glad he’s being responsible and…
The words are ejected from my head as he pushes himself inside with a single hard thrust.
A gasp is ripped from my throat.
I’m loud.
“Are you okay?” he asks, his words shuddering as he continues to push himself into the hilt, slower now.
I make a mewling noise, trying to nod, already my palms feel sweaty and are sliding down against the glass.
Holy shit, I’m not going to survive him.
“I’ll go slow,” he says thickly, and he dials it back. I concentrate on breathing, air in and air out, the rhythm matching the slow and decadent push of his cock.
“Fuck, you feel good,” he moans. “So fucking good. Ruby girl. My god.”
I want to say the same.
Because he does feel good.
Better than good.
But I don’t have the words right now.
All I can do is feel.
Every fucking thing.
He pumps into me, a little faster now, the pace steady, his grip on my soft skin hard. Occasionally he reaches up and plays with my breasts, or kisses down my spine, or slides a strong finger over my clit. Then he takes his hand away, stopping before I go over the edge again.
It’s torture. The most beautiful torture I’ll ever have.
He’s filling me up in ways I never imagined, my body stretching over him, molding to him, giving in to him. I want him to fuck me both harder and slower, I want all of him and less of him. There’s too much going on and not enough and, fuck, I need to come again.
“Luciano,” I say. I love the way his name sounds. I love the way he fucks me, like I’m art, but the abstract kind, like I’m something chaotic and wild and imperfect. No straight lines or precision, just colors that are bright and scattered and real.
Because that’s what I am. I am all those things, and god, I am such a mess.
But he’s here and he’s with me—he’s fucking me. And I know our bodies know each other, just as we know each other.
This is instinctive now.
And the instinct turns to urgency.
His grip tightens on me, his hips start to slam against my ass. I’m pressed flat against the window now, my breasts spread, and now the thought of any neighbor of his looking at us turns me on like hell.
“Fuck,” Luciano says, leaning forward to growl in my ear. “I don’t know how much longer I can hold back.” Fingers find their way into my hair and now he’s wrapping my hair around his fist, holding me in place.
Nope. Definitely not going to survive this.
He starts thrusting harder now, pumping upwards, and he works at me so hard he almost slips out of me a few times. Each time he pistons back inside, I’m gasping for air.
Beads of sweat drop from him to my spine and I try to glance over my shoulder to see what pleasure looks like on his face, but his fist in my hair is tight and keeps me in line. Each damning thrust presses me so hard against the glass I fear I might break through. My hands are slippery and sliding.
Then he releases my hair, his hand sliding in front of my throat, holding me there. I can breathe, but just barely, that is until his other hand reaches forward and slides down over my clit.
I’m done for.
“Oh my fucking god!” I cry out, my words echoing off the glass just as I’m pressed against it, getting fucked harder and harder, Luciano pounding me from behind as I come.
I can barely stay on my feet, my orgasm pulling the rug out from under me.
I’m clenching shut and opening wide, my body a contradiction, pulled in every direction, spun around and around.
I am consumed.
Thrown to the wild.
Torn apart.
“God, god, god.” My words are tight, my fingers curling into my palm, the world rocking and quaking and on fire. And then that world is just my body, trying to put itself back together.
How is this orgasm even better than the last one? I swear I can still feel the one before.
“Oh fuck!” Luciano’s words come out like a surprised shout and he squeezes my throat for a breathless, bruising moment before his hand falls down to my hips and he pumps deeply once, twice, then slows.
“Ruby,” he whispers, his voice thick. He runs his hands down my back. “Ruby girl.”
Ruby girl.
I swallow the lump in my throat, trying to rein in both my emotions, which feel all over the fucking place, and my body, which doesn’t know left from right or up from down right now.
He places his palm against my ass and then pulls out carefully.
I feel hollow without him.
I straighten up, slowly turning around, feeling unsteady. I watch as he walks across the apartment, getting a good look at that perfect bare ass. I knew it would be amazing. Those muscles sure know how to fuck the life out of me.
While he rolls the condom off and puts it in the garbage under the sink, I’m, well, feeling a little naked too. It’s one thing to be naked when you know you’re about to have sex. It’s another to be standing in the middle of his apartment in broad daylight after you’ve had sex.
I just had sex with Luciano, the realization flits through me.
And I don’t think I’ve ever felt so vulnerable.
He takes one look at me and then his eyes stay there, roaming my body, like there’s nowhere else to look.
My cheeks flush and I have to fight the urge to cover myself up. I’m usually okay with my curves, my extra weight in places, my scar. But, right now, I feel like that’s all I am. I don’t know why it feels hard to be so vulnerable in front of him, I’m just baring my imperfect body, not my imperfect soul. But maybe it’s because I know he has the power to hurt me.
Fuck. I can’t let him hurt me.
“You know I’ve dreamed of this,” he says to me, his voice low. He slowly walks over to me, and I’m staring at him, how perfect he is. He puts h
is hands on my face, holding me, eyes taking in my nose, my mouth. “I dreamed of this vision of you. But the dreams never compared.”
“I bet the dream didn’t have an ugly scar on her leg.”
“The dream did,” he says. He doesn’t even glance at it. “The dream did because the best dreams give you something real. You’re real, Ruby. And for tonight, you’re mine.”
He leans in and kisses me softly on the lips.
Then he grabs my hand and starts pulling me toward the bedroom.
“Come on. I’m not done with you yet.”
Eleven
Luciano
It’s hard to tell if I’m dreaming or not. If the woman in my arms is really here, or just a figment of my imagination. I’ve fantasized about Ruby so much, I don’t know what’s real and what’s not.
But she’s soft in my arms, softer than my imagination could ever conjure up. I’m spooning her from behind, my one arm dead asleep under her, while the other yearns to wake her up, wants to slide over her creamy white skin, slip down between her thighs. I know what she feels like when she comes on my fingers, when she comes on my cock. She surrenders herself completely, no pretenses, no persona. She’s herself fully, this beautiful exquisite soul.
And we don’t have much time left at all.
Urgency threads through me, coupled with panic.
We had hot, messy sex all through the night, with only a couple of hours of sleep. I’ve never fucked so much, surprising myself how fast I was up for the task again, like my cock was stuck on the on switch, unable to power down.
Even now, my dick is concrete between my legs, throbbing and begging to be inside her again. It knows, just as I do, that we don’t have any time.
Ruby flies out this afternoon.
Ruby is leaving.
All because of my brother.
Because he broke up with her and gave her a ticket to send her on her way, so he doesn’t have to deal with her or the guilt for what he’s done. Out of sight, out of mind. Hands clean.
I should feel guilt right now for fucking Marco’s girlfriend right after they broke up, but Ruby isn’t just some girlfriend of his. She’s so much more to me than he can ever imagine, someone who should have been with me from the beginning. Being with her like this, it only sealed it, it only proved that the two of us should have been together long ago.
But life doesn’t work like that.
And guilt doesn’t either.
Because even though she’s in my bed now, even though my cock is hot and throbbing, and I’m so insatiable I can hardly breathe, I know the guilt will come later. It will swallow me as I realize what I did.
What kind of person I am.
But right now, I only want to be the person I am with Ruby.
A version of myself who finally takes what he wants.
And god, do I ever want her.
Which means this version of myself is the kind to wake her up so he can make her come a million more times before she has to leave for good.
“Ruby,” I whisper into her ear. The corner of her mouth lifts in a soft smile and she lets out a quiet groan. She’s so ridiculously gorgeous that it makes my lungs seize. Her upper lip slightly fuller than her lower one, naturally dark pink against her milk-white skin. There are a few blemishes along her strong jawline and chin, her nose is wide, but her imperfections only make her perfect.
I place my lips on her shoulder, breathing in deeply, then adjust myself under the covers so that my cock is pressed against her supple ass, grinding against her.
Her eyes flutter open and she looks up at me.
“So I’m not dreaming of your cock,” she says, and fuck, her voice is just full of sex. Throaty, huskier than normal.
“Not anymore,” I murmur against her skin, placing another kiss in the crook of her neck while my hand skims over the dangerously smooth curves, the way her waist slopes in, the way her hips rise and rise. My hand reaches over and my fingers trail over her soft, delectable stomach before slipping between her legs. She’s already a bit wet, but by the time I’m done with her, she’ll be drenched.
“Oh,” she says, moaning, her legs parting slightly to give me better purchase. I gently rub at her clit, teasingly soft, enough so that she bucks her hips up against my hand, wanting more.
I’ll give her more.
I’ll give her all of me.
“Fuck,” she cries out. “Luciano…”
Oh god, my name.
The way she says my name.
I take my hand away, my fingers slick, and she whimpers, biting her lip, her face contorted by her incessant need. “Don’t stop, please.”
“I’m just getting started,” I say roughly before biting her neck lightly, sucking on her skin. My hand grabs my cock and moves it back and forth over the crease of her ass before sliding it inside her where she’s much wetter. I go in like tight silk, eliciting a loud moan that rumbles through my chest.
“Oh meu deus,” I cry out, words hoarse, pushing myself in until my balls are pressed tight against her skin.
Fuck me, she’s incredible.
Never did I think she would feel like this, like warm molten honey that melts beneath my touch, a decadence that makes the blood rush through my head, making me feel dizzy.
I move my hips back, almost pulling out all the way, before I slam myself back into her, her ass jiggling from the impact.
“Oh!” she yelps. “Fuck.”
“Does that feel good?” I whisper to her, moving my other arm under her side and turning her over so that she’s partly on her back, partly on her side. My hand snakes around to her breast, squeezing, relishing the weight of it.
“Yes,” she says softly. “So good.”
I want to make her feel good. I want to do this forever.
I stare down at her, watching as she moves beneath me while I keep pumping myself into from behind, her breasts jostling with each thrust. I’m losing my breath, my heart climbing inside my throat with each slick, tight pass inside her.
A tiny rough growl escapes her lips and I think I’m a fucking goner.
But I don’t want to come yet. Not until she’s begging for me to.
Instead I keep my fingers at her clit, rubbing her in quick rough circles, feeling her body change beneath my touch. She really does melt into me, sticky sweet as honey.
She’s making anguished sounds now, like she can’t help herself, like her desperation is seeping into me, saturating the both of us with insatiable greed.
I’ve never been wanted like this before. Not sure I will be again.
Then I feel her stiffen, her body jerking in surprise as I bring her to an orgasm.
“Oh my god!” she screams, coming hard around my cock. “Oh god, oh my god.” Her cries trail off into a nonsensical stream of words and moans, and while one hand works at her, slippery and wild, I grip her waist, pumping her up and down on my cock, faster, her breasts swaying.
I have to hold my breath, scatter my thoughts, so I don’t fucking lose it.
It’s only then that I realize I fucked her without a condom.
“Shit,” I mumble.
She glances up at me, her chest rising and falling with each laboured breath, still quaking around me. “What?” she asks, voice raw, eyes flitting between concern and sleepy satisfaction.
“I forgot the condom,” I say.
She rolls off of me, my cock bobbing free, hard, heavy and wet. She eyes it and then looks at me. “You didn’t come.” She looks disappointed.
“I’m not done with you,” I tell her, licking my lips.
“You’re a fucking beast, you know that?”
I can’t help but grin. “You bring the beast out of me.”
“I’m clean,” she reminds me. “And I’m on the pill, remember?” She sucks her lower lip into her mouth, her pink tongue peeking out. “I want you to come inside me. Bare. I want to feel you. All of you.”
I want that too.
I want to ask if she was always u
sing condoms with Marco, because I know he’s a player, and I know he wasn’t faithful to her. But the question stays inside me. I’m not about to bring up my brother right now. I just have to trust her.
And I do trust her.
She reaches down and makes a light fist over my cock, gently skimming over it.
Shit, I’m so close.
I reach down and wrap my fingers around her wrist, prying her hand off of me. She gives me a wicked little grin in response.
“Not yet,” I tell her.
I sit up and move down to the end of the bed, getting in between her legs and hooking them around my shoulders. Her pussy is open in front of me, framed by an artful bikini wax. I have to wonder when she got that done here in Lisbon, but then I realize I don’t want to know.
There are thoughts that want to follow that, but I push them out of my head.
There’s only us right now, only her, glistening and waiting in front of me like a jewel.
Ruby girl.
She looks down at me in surprise.
“I should take a shower first,” she says, though the heat in her eyes say otherwise. “I’m a mess.”
“You can do that later,” I tell her. “I want to taste you. Taste our sex.”
Her eyes go wide, and I love that I can provoke such a woman as herself, who is always provoking the fuck out of me. It might be my favorite thing to do.
I dip my head and bring my tongue up along her, licking her deeply, my eyes never leaving hers. I taste her musky sweet salt, watching her as she watches me, her lids lowering as she gives in to me. I’m so fucking hard and turned on right now that even my cock pressed against the bed threatens to set me off.
I press my fingers into the soft, tender flesh of her thighs, holding her tight, and keep licking her, up and down, like a cat licking cream, reveling in the taste and feel of her, wanting to drown in everything she has for me.
“God,” I groan into her, and she clamps her thighs around my head in wild desperation. “You’re incredible. I could eat you forever. Just like this.”
I plunge my tongue inside her and feel her clench around me and, fuck, I better hurry the hell up and get her off before I come right on these sheets.
The One That Got Away: A Novel Page 14
