Page 17 of The Prices We Pay
Grabbing a fistful of his hair, I pull his head back to look up at me, and he hisses in pain. “I asked you a question. Where are your manners?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“That’s better. Open your mouth.”
Luca’s mouth opens, and I fist the base of my dick with one hand and guide it into his mouth. His tongue licks around the head, playing with my piercing. I can’t help the wanton moan that falls past my lips. His hands move up and around my thighs until they’re gripping my ass through my pants.
My hold on his hair tightens, and he moans around me. “Want me to fuck this pretty mouth of yours?”
He pops off to answer me, “Yes, Sir.”
Not wasting another moment, I thrust my hips forward until I feel the head of my cock slide down his throat. Holding his head still, I begin fully fucking his face. Letting the tight, warm feeling of his mouth bring me closer and closer to the edge.
“Touch yourself. Make yourself come while I fuck your mouth.”
Luca lets go of my ass and wraps one hand around himself. After a few strokes, he starts groaning around me. The more drawn-out they get, the closer I know he is. I clench my jaw, fightingwith myself not to come before he does as he hums around me. “That’s it, Baby. You’re doing so well. Make yourself come for me.”
My thrusts grow faster, matching his strokes. As he opens his mouth slightly to yell out in ecstasy, I plunge deep into his throat, holding still as he comes into his hand. He’s torn between groans of pleasure and gagging around me. It’s one of the most beautiful sounds I’ve ever heard.
I pull out for only a moment, letting him catch his breath while drool falls down his chin, before pushing inside of him again. It only takes three more thrusts before I’m groaning out, “Swallow it. Swallow. Every. Fucking. Drop,” I enunciate each word with a powerful thrust as I spill cum down his throat.
Once I’m done blissfully spilling inside of him, I slowly slide out and pull him back to a standing position. Crashing my mouth to his, I force my tongue inside his mouth—tasting my own release on my tongue, swallowing his every whimper and moan. When I’ve finally had my fill of him, I reluctantly break our kiss, leaving both of us breathless.
His eyes bounce between mine as I say, “I love you.”
“I love you, Mio Re.”
“Whatever you want, it’s yours, Luca. I’ll give it to you.”
Now he’s the one who holds my face in his hands. “I want you.”
“You have me. No matter what.” I can tell he wants to say more, but he can’t get the words to leave his mouth. Knowing not to push him, I leave the conversation for what it is at the moment. Reaching up, I grab his wrist. “Come on, let’s go shower and head to bed. Have a busy day with our new friend tomorrow.” I wink over my shoulder as I pull him toward his bathroom.
Luca groans in annoyance, and I bark out a laugh. The two of us take turns washing one another—talking about the rest of our days before going through our respective nighttime routines and climbing into bed. We crawl under the covers, with Luca on his side and I curled up tight behind him, my arm draped over his waist. Softly, I kiss theback of his head as his breathing begins to even out. “Goodnight, Luca.”
“Goodnight, Sebastian.” Just a few minutes later, Luca’s soft snores fill his bedroom as I stare into the night, willing the racing thoughts of a certain onyx-haired beauty to subside. The sooner I can sleep, the sooner the morning will come. And the sooner morning comes, the sooner I can find out everything there is to know about the woman who has seemingly consumed three of the most important people in my life after a mere forty-eight hours.
Who exactly is Josephine Jenkins?
8
Josephine
If I don’t leave in the next five minutes, I’m never going to make it to work on time—being late on my second day would not be a good look—but I can’t get myself to move. The envelope with a handwritten return address I know all too well sits on my kitchen counter, unopened, taunting me, as if the paper it was written on knew how much I didn’t want it to find me.
But it did. It found me.
How does he always find me?
I haven’t received a letter since I bought this apartment almost a year and a half ago, sixmonths after I moved to the city. I thought I had finally outrun him.
But he found me.
Again.
Picking up the letter, I flip it over and press one of my black nails under a lifted corner, convincing myself that this time I will be able to face it… I’ll see what he wants—why he won’t just leave me alone—and be done with it. But as a piece of the envelope tears away, my heart stops beating in my chest. The walls of my spacious apartment suddenly feel like they are closing in on me, and the envelope falls out of my shaky hold. When the paper hits the ground, it feels as if a bomb went off. And yet, it hardly makes a sound.
“Yeah, fuck this.”
