Page 54 of Lourdes & the Mafia
It takes a long time for Lorenzo to answer me, and during that time he’s very still beneath me. It feels like he hardly breathes. I know I’ve ruined the moment, and a part of me kicks myself for even doing that, but I need to be honest. With him, and most of all with myself.
“Why do you think you become too dependent on people?” he asks finally.
I gulp, feeling the lump rise in my throat and the tears threaten at the backs of my lids. “It just… happens. I’m sure a psychologist would have a long-winded answer about how I never knew my father, and my mom’s dead, and I seek male validation, and am desperate for female friendships, but…” I bite my lip. This is the most vulnerable I’ve ever been with anyone. Not even Naomi knows why I am the way I am.
And me? Well, I’ve had enough time with myself to know exactly what my failings are and why I do the things I do. Some people don’t like to think too hard about why they act in certain ways, but my own origins and the workings of my own mind keep me up at night far too often. They make me cry into my pillow, the bone-gripping loneliness that I try to stave away.
“But I just want to be loved. Like no one else has loved me before.” My voice trembles as I confess the words. “And if I’m loved, I want to love in return. I want to give it my all, because love deserves to be whole. It doesn’t deserve snippets or uncertainty.” My hands smooth along his shoulders. “Love deserves so much more.”
Again, he falls into silence. I know this has become a heavy topic, especially for a man. Especially for a man of the Underworld. Especially for a man of the Underworld who I just met. He’s probably thinking he didn’t sign up for this. I wonder if he just wanted a quick lay and I’ve ruined that carefully curated plan.
I want to get off him, but my body is frozen in wait for an answer that takes far too long to come.
“I don’t think…” he begins slowly. “I don’t think independence and loneliness are in direct correlation with one another.” Before I can ask what he means, he pushes on. “You can be independent and still have relationships, Amore. You can be independent and be in love. Independence doesn’t have to mean loneliness. It just means that you’re strong enough to lean on others. It just means you’re strong enough to ask for help.”
Can that be true? All my life, I’ve been made to believe that asking for help is a weakness. I was born on a foundation of contradictions. Taught to believe so many things. That I need to be skinny but curvy in order to be valued. That I need to be a doting stay-at-home wife but have a career and be dedicated to it. That I need to not ask for help but know when to loosen the reins.
Growing up, you can never be sure what’s going to stick with you. Out of all the lessons they could give you, after being criticized for so long and so often by my own family, it’s no wonder I’ve always sought love and approval. That’s why I lost myself in the first place. Because I did whatever it took to receive someone’s love who didn’t deserve mine. To turn that around, I decided to swear off men and love and friendships. To just do everything on my own. Now Lorenzo is here telling me that I don’t need to do that. That there are other options and that they don’t make me weaker even if I think they might.
They’ll make me stronger.
And that’s all I’ve ever really wanted.
To be strong.
“You must think I’m pathetic.”
I start to pull away, but he pulls me right back into his arms. Closer this time. “Not at all,” he says. “I think you’re very brave.”
I snort with derision.
“People don’t talk about their feelings like you do,” he says. “They hide behind masks. They lie and they cheat. I think it takes a certain kind of bravery to confess what you’re really feeling inside. It takes a lot to be open with your own emotions and to love as freely as you do, and I think that’s something to be admired. Now, would you like to get back to washing?”
I can’t help but stare at him. It feels like he’s giving me an out, giving me the chance to say no to him. To walk away right now from what could happen in this bath. But the thing is, no matter how hard I’ve tried to convince myself otherwise, the fact of the matter is that I do not want to say no.
I want to stay right where I am. To feel the touch of his skin against mine. There’s no denying that I want something to happen between us. It doesn’t matter that I don’t know who he is. It doesn’t matter that the attraction I feel for him is identical to what I feel for Ramiel. I just know in this moment that I want something. Something only he can give me.
And when this moment ends I know that I’ll want it again.
My hands slide down to touch his pectorals. His brown skin is smooth,perfect and chiseled. Short tufts of curls spread across his chest, disappearing into the bubbly water.
I take a moment to explore him, letting my nails scrape over his skin. His body is still, even as my fingers creep lower, slipping between the muscles of his abs. He shivers against my touch, and I feelpowerful,even more so when my hand reaches down beneath the warmth of the water and I grasp his length in my palm.
“Amore,” he says lowly, the sound a warning. “This is about you. Not me. You can play later.” And then he’s pulling away and turning me in the circle of his arms so my back is pressed to his front.
The position just puts us closer to one another, and his dick nestles against the middle of my ass cheeks.
I take in the sensations of having him so near right before he takes the loofah and starts rubbing it in circles along my stomach. My breath catches in my throat, and my body stills as he uses his hands and his magic to wash across my body. It’s slow and sensual, and he doesn’t go anywhere near my pussy, instead driving me crazy by massaging every ache and muscle. I start, all but grinding down against his dick, letting it slide between my ass cheeks as I move, though it doesn’t give me friction where Ineed.
He spreads my legs on top of him, hooking one on either side of his so I’m effectively locked on top of him.
“You’ve been so patient,” he purrs in my ear, the words warming around me. “How do you feel? Good? Hmm?”
Every word is laced with just the right amount of seduction. They curl around me like whispers of magic and promises of pleasure that I want him to keep.
His palms are placed right at my inner thighs, dangerously high up near my pussy but not close enough.
“I feel…” I can’t find the right word forwhatI feel.
