I meet his eyes, keeping my expression open, easy. “Don’t overthink it, Vin. It’s just a snack and Netflix.”
He takes a deep breath, nods, then comes to bed.
I set the plate on his chest, his favorite spot, and settle beside him, careful not to crowd him, not to snuggle. We’re just sharing space, sharing arancini, sharing time.
Nothing more.
He relaxes by degrees as we eat and watch the documentary. I make comments about Mussolini’s incompetence and he argues with me about Allied strategy, and it just feelsnormal. Easy. Like we’ve done this a thousand times. Like we could do it a thousand more.
By the time the plate is empty, he’s drowsy, his eyelids heavy. I take the plate to the kitchen, wash it, and when I return, he’s half asleep, one arm tucked behind his head.
I slide in beside him, curling into his warmth. My hand finds his chest, trailing lazy patterns over his skin, then lower. Then lower still. His cock jerks under my touch.
“Sophie.” He sounds exhausted. “I’m fucking raw, princess. You’ve wrung me dry.”
I look up at him through my lashes, my hand bumping against his hardening length. “Mmm, you think this might help?”
I shift down the mattress, dropping a kiss on his hip bone then along the little happy trail till I’m tugging at his waistband. Taking him in my mouth, soft and gentle, not trying to arouse, just warming his cock.
“Fuck,” he breathes, his hand finding my hair, stroking gently. “That feels….. You’re going to spoil me, princess.”
I hum around him, the vibration making him twitch against my tongue. I just keep him in my mouth, my hand resting on his thigh.
His fingers work through my hair, massaging my scalp, and I feel myself drifting, the rise and fall of his breathing lulling me, until sleep takes me.
**
Sometime in the night, I wake to his hips rocking, slow and careful, his cock hard, one hand in my hair holding my head still as he fucks my mouth. My panties are pushed down, his other hand kneading my ass, fingers dipping between my cheeks.
I stay still, eyes closed, letting him think I’m asleep, letting him take what he needs. His breathing quickens, and his grip in my hair tightens. He’s close.
“Mia regina,” he whispers.
The endearment pierces straight through me.My queen.
He comes with a strangled groan, spilling down my throat, and I swallow all of it, everything he gives me.
I fall back asleep with a smile on my lips, his cock still in my mouth, and dream of a future I know I can’t have.
16
Vin
Iwake up to the smell of something that makes my dick hard and my stomach growl, and I can’t tell which is more urgent.
Eggs. Something sweet baking. The scent winds through Sophie’s tiny apartment, dragging me out of her bed and into her kitchen.
Two nights.I’ve fucked Sophie two nights in a row, slept in her bed, woken up with my cock in her mouth like it fucking belongs there.
This isn’t me. I don’t even sleep over, much less do second nights. One and done. No feelings, no repeats, no fucking complications. And yet here I am, wearing yesterday’s jeans in her kitchen while she hums something Italian, cooking for me. Again.
What the fuck is happening to me?
I should bail, find somewhere else to crash. I need to put distance between me and whatever this is before it blows up in my face.
But I stay put, drawn to her cooking and,fuck, the memory of how she took me in her mouth last night, sleepy and soft, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
La mia regina.
