“I…” She grabs her clothes, backing away from me as if I’m going to bite, her heels clicking on the floor. “I can’t…”
I still can’t make sense of what’s happening. “Valentina…”
She’s hopping into her skirt, throwing on her blouse, haphazardly, and backing toward the door the entire time. “I can’t do this. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…” Her gaze drops to my rigid length, so hard it’s nearly touching my stomach, and then back up to my face. “Fuck, I’m so sorry. I have to go… I can’t…”
She throws the door open, slamming it behind her, and I’m left standing there harder than I’ve ever been in my life… and completely alone.
I stare at the door for several long moments, as if she might come back, and when she doesn’t, I sink onto the edge of the bed, the useless condom dropping onto the floor from my hand.
I’m still so fucking hard. I stare down at my cock as if it might deflate, but my erection doesn’t seem to realize that she likely isn’t coming back. At this point, I’m not leaving this room until I come. I can’t fucking do anything until I’ve had a release; she’s gotten me too worked up.
Gritting my teeth, I fish in the nightstand for a bottle of lube, squeeze some onto my palm, and wrap it around my cock. It’s not what I fucking want, butGod, anything at all feels like fucking heaven right now. I can still taste her on my lips, on my tongue, and I close my eyes, imagining that feeling of her coming against my mouth again as I stroke myself hard and fast. I let myself picture what it would have been like if she hadn’t left, that perfect pussy pressed against my cockhead, her legs wrapped around my hips, the hot, tight sensation as I sank into her…
Fuck. I stroke harder, in no mood to draw this out now. I just want to fucking get off. And it doesn’t take long… I imagine her mouth falling open, her breasts brushing against my chest as shearches up into me, meeting my every thrust, clenching around me as she comes hard on my cock.
I narrowly manage to grab tissues just in time. I feel the first hot spurt traveling up my cock, feel that white-hot pleasure as my back arches and…
An image flashes into my head of Giulia, head thrown back against my pillows, my hands gripping her hips as I thrust into her hard, claiming her virgin pussy as mine, filling her with my cum.
“Oh fucking fuck!” I groan aloud through gritted teeth, the force of my orgasm intensified by that image, spurt after spurt of cum violently soaking the wad of tissues in my palm. It feels like it’s never going to fucking end, the orgasm tearing through me, my cock pulsing over and over as I come so hard it fucking drips from my hand as I keep spurting.
“FuckingChrist.” I gasp as I give myself one more stroke, shuddering. I toss the mess into the trash and fall back onto the bed, still trying to catch my breath, and in the instant after the pleasure starts to recede, guilt crashes in to take its place. I stare at the ceiling, feeling like the worst kind of bastard.
I came here to forget Giulia. To reset and find someone who would help me get my priorities straight. Instead, I found someone who made me think of her even more. Someone who ran away before I could figure out why. And then I finished myself off thinking about the one girl I'm supposed to be protecting, not fantasizing about.
Romeo's little sister. Dante's daughter. The girl who's about to be engaged to someone else.
The girl I can never have.
I get up, get dressed, and try to pull myself together. But I can feel the guilt settling into my bones, heavy and inescapable. This was supposed to help. It was supposed to make things better.
Instead, I’m not sure I haven’t made it worse. I needed to fuck this out of my system, but instead, I just feel like my desire for Giulia Ciresa is even more embedded into my psyche than it was before.
7
GIULIA
Imake it back to Liesl's apartment, my hands still shaking as I let myself in through the service entrance. The guest room is exactly as I left it—bed still made, my overnight bag sitting on the chair. I strip off the wig first, then the mask, then the dress, leaving them in a pile on the floor like evidence of a crime. I sit on the edge of the bed in just my underwear, still feeling dizzy from the experience, and that's when it hits me all over again.
The man at the club was Luca.
The realization crashes over me, stealing the air from my lungs. I press my hand to my chest, feeling my heart hammering against my ribs.
It was Luca.
Luca's hands on my body. Luca's mouth between my thighs. Luca's voice saying my fake name with so much passion, so much desire.
I lie back on the bed, staring at the ceiling, and I can still feel him… still taste him. I can still hear the way he groaned when I touched him, the way he said "fuck" like it was torn from somewhere deep inside. I still can’t believe I had my handson his body, his cock in my mouth. That I gave him so much pleasure it looked like it was destroying him.
I can’t believe he… did what he did to me. Made me come that way. I wanted him so badly, and it was impossible not to see how much he wanted me, too, even if he thought I was someone else. He looked at me like he wanted to devour me whole. He was so gorgeous, the first naked man I’ve ever seen, ever touched, and it washim.
And I ran.
The regret hits me so hard I actually gasp. I ran. I had Luca Moretti in a private room, his hands on my body, his mouth making me feel things I didn't know were possible, and I panicked and ran.
I could have had him. I could have had this one perfect night where he was mine, and I was his, and nothing else mattered.
And I threw it away.
