Page 4 of Enzo
“Holy shit,” I panted, my eyes squeezing shut. He licked and sucked, rolling his tongue around my clit like he was eating the world’s most exquisite dessert. “Oh my…”
His chuckle rumbled through his chest and vibrated to my core as my hips arched into his mouth of their own will. Then he started fucking me with his tongue.
A fleeting thought entered my mind.I should have the freedom to choose this man. Or any other. It isn’t fair.
I threaded my fingers through his hair and gripped it like I was scared someone would snatch this away from me before I had a chance to experience it in full. I didn’t want to miss a single fucking moment.
My head rolled against the armrest as the stranger’s mouth devoured me, and every noise from his throat brought me closer and closer to another orgasm. I clamped my thighs around his face, grinding against him like a wanton hussy. His eyes met mine, hooded and black as the night sky, and he didn’t need to say the words for me to know how much he enjoyed eating my pussy.
He closed his lips over my swollen clit and sucked it with force.
“Fuckfuckfuck!” I cried out, my entire body shaking violently as waves of pleasure smashed through me. I felt it from the tips of my toes to the hairs on my head. It was like an electric shock, and I’d never wanted something so bad.
He spoke, his voice low, but the words were drowned in the pounding of my heartbeat in my ears.
When my eyes fluttered open, it was to his gaze on me and his breathing uneven, a dark gleam in his eyes that had me clawing at reality.
And he’d never even taken his clothes off.
1
PENELOPE
Your sister’s in the hospital.
Five words. That was all it took to make me drop everything—including the search for my elusive masked stranger.
The air was thick with the scent of salt, clinging to every breath like memory. The coastline stretched endlessly, a ribbon of white sand unraveling beneath a sky too wide to hold. Sicily was stunning. Wild. Unapologetically raw.
But more than anything, Sicily was home.
Now, standing outside the hospital, the cold sea breeze lashed against my skin like punishment handed down by the gods. Locals bustled past, wrapped in layers of wool and warmth, their eyes flicking toward the girl in a simple knitted dress and flats, motionless in the cold.
I didn’t move.Couldn’tmove.
The world might have been spinning, but mine had stopped the second I got the call.
Fall and winter winds might be brutal in Palermo, but they had nothing on the words the doctor had just spoken.
High white blood cell count, anemia, enlarged lymph nodes, low platelet count, liver and spleen affected…
We thought this was behind us. She was in remission, on her way to full recovery. That was what we were told. The last bout of chemo treatments when she was seven had been rough on my youngest sibling and only sister, Amara. I was terrified of what it would do this time around. Yes, she was older and stronger now, but that didn’t mean anything in the face of leukemia.
I clenched my fists and squeezed my eyes shut, attempting to ease the panic in my chest. Breathe in, hold, exhale. Oh my God, how could this be happening to her again? It should be someone else… Anyone else.
The taste of salt hit my tongue, sharp and bitter, tangled with the rising tide of despair. My pulse fluttered wildly in my throat, like a trapped bird desperate to escape. Thoughts spun out of control, everywhat ifclawing at my mind, louder than the wind, heavier than the sky. I stood frozen, waiting for the earth to open and swallow me whole, because anything felt safer than facing what might come next.
“She’ll get through this.” I opened my eyes to Papà’s strong arms wrapping around me. His face portrayed the strength and determination I’d come to expect from him, but there was also a lingering terror he tried so hard to hide. “We’ll be with her every step of the way, and we’ll beat that fucking cancer again.”
My throat felt thick and my words inaudible when I answered. “It’s not fair. She’s been so strong…”
The sun pushed through the clouds, but it did nothing to warm my skin. It felt as cold as my insides with the knowledge of what awaited Amara. Leukemia had been like the darkest of storm clouds, hovering over our family and testing our faith in the goodness of the world for years. As soon as we thought it was behind us, we were back to square one, or at least it felt like it.
Poison pumped into her veins. Sweaty, sleepless nights. Painful days.
“She’ll continue to be strong,” Papà claimed. “And we’ll be strong with her. When she’s tired, we’ll push her through. Okay?”
I swallowed the lump swelling in my throat. He sounded positive, but I heard the waver in his voice.
