“Ginni!” he yells suddenly.
His body goes rigid. His heels drum on the mattress. Wetness gushes deep inside me. Pulse after pulse of it. The best feeling in the world.
He lets out a long exhale. His body flops, turning all loose-limbed and languid. His softening cock stays inside me where I’m going to keep it for as long as possible.
“Fucking hell, Ginni,” he pants.
I grin with pride.
I’m hard again. I reach for my cock and tug lazily. Carlo opens his eyes and stares at my movements. His pink tongue pokes out and licks his lips.
My body jerks, my insides flutter around his cock, and I cum. A nice, languid, tingly orgasm.
My cum lands on Carlo’s stomach. Not far from the puddle I dumped earlier.
Carlo chuckles. “I forgot what it’s like to be twenty-one.”
“No,” I tell him sternly. “You forgot how to be happy.”
He blinks.
I give him my best smile. “But that’s okay because I’m here to teach you.”
He blinks again. He looks surprised. Taken aback. Then his expression shifts, and I beam with delight.
Carlo looks as if he is finally starting to believe me.
This is all going so much better than I planned for.
Chapter twenty-one
Carlo
Happy.
Ginni promised to teach me to be happy, and until he said those words, I hadn’t realized that I wasn’t.
It’s a lot to think about. Too much to think about.
The cigarette appears between my lips before I’ve fully processed what’s happening, Ginni’s slender fingers brushing against my mouth as he positions it with practiced care.
“There,” he murmurs softly, bringing the lighter to the tip with steady hands. The flame dances between us, casting golden light across his face as I lean forward to meet it. For just a moment, we’re connected by fire and breath and a simple intimacy.
He settles on the edge of the bed, close enough that I can feel the warmth radiating from his skin. The silk robe he’s thrown on hangs open slightly, revealing the elegant line of his collarbone, the pale smoothness of his chest. He’s impossibly beautiful in the artificial light.
“Better?” he asks, watching me take the first deep drag with that attentive expression he gets when he’s focused entirely on my comfort.
I nod, unable to trust my voice yet. The nicotine hits my system like a blessing, and for a few precious moments, there’s nothing but the simple pleasure of smoke and silence while my body basks in the afterglow of the most incredible sex of my life.
Ginni takes the cigarette from my lips, allowing me to exhale. He holds it with the reverence of someone performing a sacred ritual. His movements are so careful, so precise, like he’s memorizing every detail of this moment to treasure later.
The chains have enough slack in them now that I could do this by myself, but it doesn’t seem worth the argument. It’s not something I want to fight.
“I used to watch you smoke at family dinners,” he says quietly, his voice taking on that dreamy quality it gets when he’s lost in memory. “You’d always step out onto the terrace during dessert, and I’d find excuses to walk past the windows just to catch glimpses of you.”
The confession is delivered with such gentle honesty that it makes my chest tight. “You were just a kid then.”
“Sixteen when I started watching you.” He brings the cigarette back to my lips, timing it perfectly with my need. “I thought you looked like a film star from the fifties. All sharp lines and dangerous elegance. I used to imagine what it would be like to light your cigarettes, to be the one taking care of you.”
