“Fuck,” I said. “I love how you look at me, Lucia. And I love how you taste. How you come on my tongue.”

“Salvatore,” she started, trying to sit up.

I shook my head. “Lie back.”

She did, and I pumped harder, my cock swelling, the scent of her, of me, filling the room with sex.

“Have you ever seen a man come, Lucia?” I asked, close now.

She met my gaze and shook her head.

“Have you ever had a man’s tongue on your cunt?”

She flushed red and blinked twice before looking away.

“Answer me.”

She held her lower lip between her teeth. “No. I’ve never...” She stopped.

“I’m going to come all over you,” I said, pumping faster, gripping harder. “I’m going to cover you in my cum, and you’re going to wear it all day long, so you know you belong to me.” I jerked, moments away now. “Fuck.”

I blew then, my orgasm coming hard and fast, making me grip one of the posts of her bed to keep upright as I emptied on her, covering her in my cum, watching her face, her eyes, as she took it. And when I finished, I leaned down and rubbed it into her skin, her chest and neck, her belly, her cunt. I then straightened, wiped my hand on her thigh, and pulled my jeans back on. Lucia sat up and looked down at herself for a moment.

“Get dressed,” I said, buttoning my jeans. “Breakfast is ready.”

“I need a shower.”

I shook my head. “Like I said, you’ll wear it all day.” I slapped her hip twice. “Let’s go. I’m suddenly ravenous.”

5

Lucia

I hated him.

Salvatore sat across from me with a huge grin on his face, chomping on a piece of sausage. I tore my bread into pieces and glared at him. He was gloating. Fucking gloating.

“I hate you.”

I hated myself more. How could I have done what he said? How in hell had I enjoyed it? He’d made me come three times. Three times! I’d felt… Fuck, what had I felt for him? The man had made me come, that was all. Any feelings were physical. Sexual.

“You liked me just fine a little while ago.” He bit into a piece of Nutella-smeared toast, a little of the chocolate paste sticking to the side of his mouth. He wiped it with his thumb then made a show of licking it off his finger.

Frustrated, I grabbed an apple out of the bowl of fruit and threw it at him. He caught it like a baseball and bit into it.

“Thanks.”

I fisted my hands at my sides at this infuriating man. Rainey came by with a pot of coffee.

“More, ma’am?”

“No,” I said, tacking on a “thank you,” as I folded my napkin. I forced myself to take a deep breath. “I’m done.”