Her walls flutter around me. Tighten. She's close again. I can feel it.
"You're going to come again," I tell her. "On my cock this time."
She nods frantically. Her movements become erratic. Desperate.
I slide one hand down her stomach. Find her clit. Press.
She shatters.
Antonella
My legs give out the moment we cross the threshold into Bruno's room.
He catches me before I hit the floor. His arms wrap around my waist, pulling me against his chest as he wheels us both inside.
"I've got you," he murmurs against my hair.
I can barely keep my eyes open. My body feels like it's made of water. Every muscle loose. Every nerve ending still humming from what he did to me.
What we did to each other.
Bruno kicks the door shut behind us. The sound echoes through the room.
His room is different from mine.
The bed is lower.
So we came back to his room instead.
Bruno wheels us toward the bed. I'm still draped across his lap, too exhausted to move. Too content to care.
He lifts me. Sets me on the mattress like I weigh nothing.
I sink into the sheets. They smell like him.
Bruno transfers himself from the wheelchair to the bed beside me. The movement is smooth now. Practiced. He doesn't try to hide it from me anymore.
I curl into his side. Press my face against his chest. Feel his heartbeat steady beneath my cheek.
For a long moment, neither of us speaks.
Then Bruno's hand finds my hair. Strokes through the tangled strands.
"I spoke with your father."
My body goes rigid.
"What?"
"Eraldo." Bruno's voice is calm. Measured. "I spoke with him tonight. Before I came to your room."
I push myself up on one elbow. Stare at him in the darkness.
"You saw my father? Is he okay? Is he?—"
"He's fine." Bruno's hand moves to my shoulder. Squeezes. "He's going back to New York. He'll be more... communicative now. With you and your siblings."
I search his face. Try to read what he's not saying.
