Smothering me.
Making me disappear.
“Emilia,” he groans.
I know he’s close. I squeeze my legs around him and draw him deeper inside me. His thrusts come harder, pushing the breath from me, and when he comes, he bites my neck, burying his face in my hair, and I hold him. I hold him and he can’t see me and I am sobbing and I have to stop. He’s throbbing inside me, his cum is filling me up. And I wish we could stay like this forever. I wish I could hide here forever. Safe and protected, hidden from the world.
“What the fuck happened to you?” he asks without raising his head from the crook of my neck.
What he says, it makes me turn my head away, makes my heart hurt. Because if he knew how damaged I was, how truly broken, how sick, he wouldn’t want me. He wouldn’t want to touch me. And he’d be right to run the other way.
He moves, and I force back my tears. His breathing is ragged, and he’s warm against me. When he pulls out, I feel his cum slide out, and I wish I could hold it inside me. Hold a little piece of him. Because this is going to slip away. I know. It’s coming, the end. And I think when it’s over, when it’s done, I think I won’t be able to put myself back together again. I only just managed it last time. And look at me; I’m like a doll barely stitched together.
Coming apart at the seams.14GiovanniI’m standing in my bedroom, listening to Kill’s message, my mind and my eye on her. She’s in the bathroom putting on makeup, and I can see her reflected in the mirror behind her.
Making love to her just now, it was strange. Different.
Making love. Shit. What am I talking about? What the fuck is wrong with me?
I fuck. I don’t make love.
She’s wrong about what she said. And it’s true what I said. When I first saw her, it was that resemblance that drew me. But she’s different. She is so very different than Angelica.
I shake my head but think back to how Emilia clung to me and at the same time, how she used my body as a shield, hid herself from me. And I knew she was crying. The silence of that sobbing, it felt endless, like bottomless grief. I want to know what it is that broke her, because it’s not those marks on her back. It’s not as simple as that.
Emilia straightens, checking her reflection one final time before coming into the bedroom. I tuck the phone into my pocket and look her over. Her expression is fixed. She gives nothing away. Not a single, goddamned thing.
She’s is as unreachable as she is beautiful.
I want more than anything to reach her.
Fuck. I need to get my head out of my ass and in the game because this is fucked up.
I motion for her to turn a circle. She does. For the first time since I’ve known her, she has her hair loose. I know why, though, and that’s not going to work. Not for my purposes tonight.
“Put your hair up.”
“Why? I thought you liked it down.”
“I do, but you’re not doing it to please me.”
She cocks her head to the side.
I step to her, push some hair behind her ear, and tilt her face up. “When you ride my cock later, I want it down. For now, I want it up.”
Her cheeks flush. She swallows, then collects herself. “I don’t understand why you’re doing this.”
“You just have to trust me.”
“You keep saying that. Using that word. But I don’t trust you.”
“I’m just the lesser of two evils?”
“I hope so.”
I shake my head. “Go put your hair up and try not to piss me off.”
She presses her lips together but turns to go back into the bathroom. A few minutes later, she emerges with her hair in a bun. It’s far from perfect. Pieces are already coming undone. But it’ll do.
The dress, on the other hand, is a perfect fit. She’s stunning in it. She slips into the high-heeled sandals that go with the dress, and I open the bedroom door.
“I should grab a sweater.”
“No need. It’ll be warm enough at the club.” I don’t know that, but I do know if she has anything to cover up her back, she will. And I need the message that gets to Alessandro to leave no doubt in his mind about who the woman I’m with is.
I open the door, gesture for her to go ahead.
She’s reluctant, but she does. She’s hyperconscious about her exposed back. Vincent is discreet as he leads us to the car, but I have a feeling the men at the club won’t be.
“Where are we going?” she asks.
“Mea Culpa.”