Page 64 of Contempt

“Fuck me … just fuck me, please.”

Renzo chuckled.

Dark.

And oh, so haunted.

She loved that sound.

It was the last thought to drift through her mind before he slammed inside her. It took one good thrust to fill her full, and shatter her mind. But those broken pieces were beautiful, too. Reflections of him and her like this.

He dragged himself away from her body again, and then slammed right back in. Harder than before—deeper, too, if it were possible.

“I wanna watch this, Lucia,” he murmured. “I need to watch this.”

She couldn’t breathe again.

But he was fucking her now, so it didn’t matter. It was the slapping of skin, and the sexy noises that slipped past Renzo’s lips that dragged her back under into a greater state of bliss. There was nothing better than watching a man use your body the way he wanted just to get himself off.

He made it quite clear that he didn’t intend to come until she did—again. His thumb found her clit and worked small circles into it with every beat of his hips against hers. The rhythm was enough to hit every nerve Lucia had.

“I’m going to come again,” she gasped.

“Good.”

She came—faster and harder.

“Fuck, yeah,” Renzo said thickly.

He fucked her harder.

She was all too happy to get on her knees when he was ready, pull that condom off, and swallow every drop he had to give her, too.

• • •

“You should go,” Lucia whispered.

Renzo’s head lifted the second he walked out of the bathroom, and his gaze instantly fell on her. There was no surprise in his eyes, and no disappointment. It was more like an understanding, she thought. Like he expected her to say that.

This whole thing …

Them … it’d been a lot.

Together, it had been too much.

Lucia needed to be alone again; she needed a second to breathe without him standing right there. She couldn’t think when there wasn’t any distance, and she had shit to work through, now.

Renzo nodded. “All right.”

She wasn’t even going to let him spend the night.

Fuck, she wanted to, though. There was a big part of her that was ready to beg for him to get back in the bed with her. To watch him enjoy the sight of her naked beneath the sheets with him, but she couldn’t.

Lucia had realized something.

That shit she thought she was feeling for all this time—the stuff that held her back, and kept her lonely; the poison that filled her up like an old friend … she’d been holding it too tight, and keeping it too close. She blamed her father; put her pain on him, and let that contempt for him burn through her like a constant wild fire that was ready to devastate every time she fed into it.

The thing was, she wasn’t just mad at her father.