Page 33 of The Italian Reckoning
“Then tell me who the fuck you are,” I plead breathlessly, my chest heaving.
He doesn’t reply and my frustration swells once again.
Then, with nothing else to do and no other way to express the swelling emotions in my chest, I raise my head from the ground and press my lips to the lipstick stain that still graces his helmet.
13
ROCKY
“Y’know what?” Sarah pulls back from lightly kissing the edge of my helmet. “Fuck it. I don’t care who you are.”
Does she mean it? Her eyes flash with annoyance, but there’s a sweet smile creeping across her lips and when she kisses my helmet again, I try to agree with her. It doesn’t matter who I am. Whatever’s got her so riled up must be important, but as long as she’s with me, no one else can harm her.
I don’t have much of a plan yet on how to keep her safe, but I will do everything I can to keep my father’s men away from her. Even if it means taking a bullet or two for her. Telling my father that I saved her life to repay a debt is only partly true because that debt doesn’t feel paid off. It’s not an obligation that brings me back to her, though. It’s her touch. I crave the silence that took over my mind during our kiss a few nights ago, and that kind of peace isn’t something I can ever repay her for. So I will do what I can to keep her alive.
Pulling back, I climb to my feet, but Sarah is right there with me and she continues to press lingering kisses against my helmet. Against my better judgment, I lean into it and follow hertouch as she fists her hand into my leather jacket and pulls me down the nearby alleyway shrouded in dull light and closed off from the world.
Hardly the most romantic of places, but all sane thought leaves me when she unzips my jacket and presses both her soft hands against my body. Heat from her palms sears through the thin material of my shirt and my pulse quickens as she grips the fabric and tugs me close against her.
I should say something. If she wants this helmet off, then she’s going to learn exactly who I am, and she would never agree to this if she knew.
Is it selfish of me that I don’t want to tell her? I don’t want to lose whatever this is because the moment she reaches under my T-shirt and caresses my abs, my mind goes quiet.
It’s like diving into the ocean and losing all sense of the world around you. I want to drown in her for the peace she brings me, even though deep down, I know she hates the real me. The conflicting thoughts don’t last long, though, because Sarah suddenly steps back and shrugs off her jacket.
“I’m tired of this bullshit life,” she mutters, tossing it over the lid of the nearby dumpster. “Tired of people not listening to me, or telling me that I need to take some time off, or that I’m seeing ghosts that aren’t there. I’m tired of shitty days and people who keep secrets, you included.”
I step toward her, but she uses both hands to shove me back against the brick wall.
“Don’t take your helmet off, I don’t care.” She glances down me with a coy smirk. “I don’t need your face.”
Before I get a chance to reply, Sarah drops to her knees right in front of me and rips open her white shirt, exposing her gorgeous breasts held in place by a peach lace bra with a little pink bow nestled in her cleavage. Her hands are on my beltbefore I can even register what she’s doing and a pulse of purewantpulls through me like the warm stretch of a muscle.
I’m hers.
Whatever she wants, whatever she needs, I’ll give it to her because each time she touches my hot skin, I find a blissful peace that I’ve been denied since I was a teen.
Incoherent words bubble in the back of my throat in my last attempt to say something—anything, really—that might alter what’s about to happen, but they don’t make it past my lips. I don’t want her to stop. If she wants this from me, then I want to give it to her.
I want to touch her. I want to caress her face and wind the long strands of her blonde hair around my fist so I can hold her in place while I worship her throat.
But she’s in control. She removes her glasses and sets them aside, then grabs my belt with both hands and slides the leather out of the clasp with impressive speed. I make another noise, and she looks up at me with a sharp warning in her eyes.
“No talking,” she snaps. “I’m tired of talking. I just want to feel something.”
My heart pounds like a drum, causing my pulse to roar loudly in my ears. Then her warm palm closes around my cock, dragging my length from the confines of my cotton boxers, and the world vanishes. Nothing exists but Sarah and her firm grip on my cock, bringing me to full mast in just a few strokes. She gets me so hard so quickly that it’s almost embarrassing, but she doesn’t appear to care. No sooner is my cock flush in her palm than her lips are kissing my crown and a tight curl of pleasure warms my lower gut.
My thighs tremble, sweat prickles along my hairline, and my balls ache with each press of her soft, plush lips against my cock. Her hand works back and forth along my shaft, drawing pull after pull of pleasure down into my gut. Closing my eyes feelslike an insult, so I stare down at her and focus on every flutter of her eyelashes, every soft gasp for air when she leans up, and every shade of crimson that dusts her cheeks as she takes me into her overwhelmingly hot mouth andsucks.
I instinctively reach for her and slide one hand into her hair, satisfying my urge to hold on to something. She makes a noise that vibrates through my dick, and my knees very nearly buckle under the rapid onslaught of pleasure.
Then she takes my cock deeper into her mouth, hollowing her cheeks with each forceful suck. It’s like she’s trying to drain me dry just with the power of my mouth, and it takes all my restraint not to thrust forward and bury myself in the welcoming heat of her throat. She keeps one hand around the inches of my cock that she doesn’t put in her mouth, and her other braces against my hip to keep me back against the wall.
Shit.Fuck.
I’m gonna come, and then this will be over. I can’t stand it. Every piece of clothing suddenly feels too heavy and close against my skin. I want to tear them all off and then throw Sarah down to fuck her like she deserves to be fucked, but she deserves better than this alleyway. Not that she seems to agree with how powerfully she’s sucking on my cock. Her shirt slides from her shoulders with her movements and she quickly removes it, seemingly not caring about the risk of someone finding us.
I want to hide her from the world and keep her as if she’s mine and only mine.
