“You’re so beautiful when you break for me.”
His lips brush against the back of my neck. I turn over, causing him to slip from inside me and cum to slide down my thighs. Our faces are only inches apart.
“I want you to break me,” I confess.
It’s always like this when we haven’t seen each other in a while. It’s like we can’t get enough of each other.
“Do you know how beautiful you are?”
His fingers trace the curve of my cheek as he moves my hair, before kissing my forehead.
I can’t help but laugh because there hasn’t been a day that has gone by since we were kids that he hasn’t told me how beautiful I am. If he doesn’t do it in person, he’ll call or send a text. But he makes sure he tells me.
“You tell me every day.”
I trace the Puglisi name tattooed across his chest that he got when he was sixteen years old. According to him all the Puglisimen have it tattooed across their chest, even Gianni. But he wouldn’t tell me why they all have it. But I think I know what he had to do to get it.
Sergio isn’t very forthcoming about his family other than he doesn’t get along with his brothers. What I know has come from Phoenix and the bits I’ve caught in conversations with Finley and Kai that he’s had around me. But he’s tried to keep our relationship separate from his life as a member of the Puglisi Family. I can’t say he’s done a great job, but he tries.
We haven’t been able to spend much time together since he’s always busy with doing work for his father, but I miss him. So, when he called and told me to pack a bag, I was so excited. Our time together is getting shorter and shorter. We’ve been together for three days, but I know it won’t last. It never does.
“I’m sorry, I haven’t been around.”
I stop tracing the ink along his skin, my fingers stilling as his apology settles between us. It’s an apology that’s becoming a normal thing for him to say.
He props himself up on his elbow and I shift backwards, giving him some space. He’s waiting, expecting me to accept it like I always do, but I’m not ready to. Not yet. I know what he hopes I’ll say. I know what would make this moment easier for him. But my truth isn’t the one he wants to hear.
Do I think he’s sorry? I’m not so sure anymore.
Will things change? They won’t.
“You have other things you have to do, Sergio,” I say even though I wish he did make more time for me.
“You’re my life, Sera. Even if I don’t show it all the time.”
Once again, he looks at me with confusion as he tries to figure out why I’m not accepting his words like I always do.
Sergio says some of the sweetest things, especially when we’ve been apart for a while. He may want them to be true even when they aren’t our reality. He wants me to be the center of his world, but I’m not. His father will always come first. And deep down he knows that. He feels guilty about not spending time with me, that’s why he’s apologizing. But I’m not one to throw the truth back in his face. I’m here to spend time with the man I love. Not to argue.
“You don’t believe me?”
There’s a tinge of hurt in his voice and I sigh. “It’s not that I don’t want to believe you, Sergio. But it’s not true. You love me, but I’ll never be the center of your world. You’re a Puglisi. Your allegiance to your father will always come before me.”
“That’s not true.”
Just at that moment, his cell phone rings. The sound slices through the room like a blade. Sergio’s jaw tightens. He doesn’tmove right away because it will prove what I’ve just said. But I see the shift in his eyes, and I know he’s already out the door.
I don’t say anything. I don’t need to.
He reaches for the phone, glancing at the screen. His expression hardens, and I know it’s his father or someone who outranks me in the hierarchy of his life.
He swings his legs over the side of the bed. “I have to take this.”
“Of course you do.”
He glares at me over his shoulder as I pull the sheet around me. My fingers curl into the fabric as I watch his back moving away from me. He doesn’t look back. He never does when it’s his father calling. The bathroom door shuts behind him, and the silence that follows isn’t angry because his absence doesn’t anger me anymore.
I’m just tired.
