Page 120 of Forsaking All Others

What would she see? This person who was seeing me for the very first time.

Her hand lifted again to curl around my throat, her fingers pressing deeply into my hammering pulse point. “A ghost,” she murmured. “A specter who haunts because he’s been told to, because he likes to terrify.”

I tried not to flinch because she was right, but it felt like a lie somehow.

“A doll and ghost are not so different,” she continued. “Both placed out of sight when they’re not useful. Both yearning to be seen.”

She rolled to her tiptoes in her bare feet, too short to reach my mouth, so she urged me down by the hand on my neck to speak her next words against my lips. “I see you, Luca. Just the shimmer of you in the dark, but I want to learn the shape of you. Will you show me?”

Before the last word had fully crossed her lips, I was hauling her up into my arms, sliding a bloodstained hand into the back of her hair and sealing her mouth with mine. She groaned, instantly opening herself to me and wrapping those long legs around my waist. Her nails scored my scalp as they dug into my waves, fisting them tightly as if she was afraid I would let go.

Not on my fucking life.

I stepped over the metal table that Ciro had mostly cleaned and cleared of my instruments, sweeping one hand over the surface to rid it of whatever was left. A clang echoed through the room as a small saw and a metal tray of medical equipment rattled to the floor.

Neither of us stopped devouring each other’s mouths.

I placed her ass on the cold edge and then pressed her torso down on the table with the weight of my own, my hands pushing up the long silk nightgown and robe over her legs to pool at her hips.

“Fuck,” I growled when I discovered she wasn’t wearing anything beneath them, my fingers encountering the rush of wetness between her soft thighs. “You came down here to watch me torture a man, and you conveniently forgot your underwear? What were you hoping would happen, dirty girl?”

“That you’d fuck me for the first time as yourself,” she claimed, panting against my mouth as her hand dove between us to fumble with my belt and trousers. “I don’t care what it makes me. Watching you protect me was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

I growled as she nipped my lower lip between her teeth while her hand finally curled just shy of too tight around my hard cock.

“It was you who beat up my professor,” she told me, obviously having connected the pieces. “It was you who crawled into my bed at night to wake me up with the first thrust of your cock inside me.”

“Sometimes I’d come through your window,” I confessed as I slipped two fingers inside her and ground my palm against her clit. “Even while Dario was asleep down the hall. When I couldn’t sleep for days from thinking of you, imagining the taste of this hot cunt on my tongue.”

Her back arched as she moaned and squeezed tight around my churning fingers.

“You had my cum dripping down your leg the next morning as you had coffee in the same kitchen as your husband,” I taunted.

“Cazzo,” she cursed, slotting the head of my cock at her entrance, stuffed with my fingers. “Fuck me, now.”

“I don’t think you’re ready enough to take me,” I teased cruelly, the wet sound of her pussy around my thrusting fingers almost obscene.

Fia’s eyes flashed with wickedness. “Don’t tease me, Luca.”

“Or what?”

She bit her kiss-swollen lower lip and raised a hand to my wounded shoulder, bearing down on the soaked fabric over the injury so that I hissed and fresh blood poured out sluggishly.

I was a man who had been conditioned to pain. Almost every torture technique I knew had once been applied to me. Pain was one of the only things I knew how to feel, so the combination of it now tangled with the searing pleasure of Fiammetta under me was a shock that seared up my spine and exploded white light behind my open eyes. My cock kicked so hard in Fia’s hand she purred.

Without hesitation, she brought her fresh-blooded hand down to my shaft and coated my blood over the tight skin. I dipped my head on a ragged breath to watch her apply it like lube, so fiercely aroused by the sight of her elegant hand smearing the ink of my body against my most intimate place before notching it against her swollen folds, I forgot how to fucking breathe.

“There,” she rasped, arching into me as she pulled me forward by my wet dick. “Now I’ll be wet enough to take this thick cock.”

I shuddered so violently the table shook beneath her, any ounce of my humanity purged by the baptism of my own blood, of the commingling between the violence done against me with the tenderness of Fia’s touch. I bared my teeth, clasped them roughly around the join of her shoulder and neck, and slammed my hips forward, imbedding myself to the hilt in her snug pussy.

“Luca,” she shouted, hands curling into my back, clawing at my skin through my shirt until I bled.

But the pain only anchored me deeper in the moment.

In her.

Fia’s sugared scent in my nose as her hair shifted around me, the taste of her sweat-limned skin against my tongue as I laved her throat, the feel of the cunt that had only ever been owned by a Ferretti around my pulsating shaft.