Her walls are paper thin.
I hear everything.
Every breath. Every groan. Every whimper.
And then, she says my name, and I lose it. I run to the bathroom door and press my ear against it, unzip my pants, and I stroke myself to every groan I hear being echoed in the four walls of that bathroom.
I look down, watching my cock pump into my fist. Heat blooms, a fever growing across my skin, and it’s because of Camilla. A drop of pre-come gathers at the slit, and I use it as lube, slicking my cock and wishing the wetness I feel was her pussy wrapped around every fucking inch of me.
“Camilla,” I whisper her name, pressing my head against the door as she climbs higher, her voice carrying her pleasure, a song I want to hear on repeat forever, and I soak it in.
My fist clenches against the door, and when the lust builds, my lips part, and my breathing becomes erratic. I tighten the grip on my cock, fucking myself harder, imagining her tight cunt, and when I hear her final shout, signaling her orgasm hit her, I fall into a blissful abyss.
I cup my hand over the tip and turn my head to bite my arm as I come. I can’t hold in the groan and half fucking sob that leaves me as I dream of filling her depths with every drop. I catch all of my evidence so she has no idea that while she pleased herself, I was right here wishing we could do it together.
The shower turns off, and I push from the door, hurrying down the hall to the kitchen to wash my hands.
“Damn it,” I curse as I tuck myself into my pants.
I didn’t make her snack.
I got sidetracked.
The door opens, and I hold my breath, turning on the sink so it sounds like I’m doing something productive instead of catching my breath.
“Is everything okay, Luca?”
Fuck, I can still hear how breathless she is from her orgasm.
I swallow, my cock swelling in my pants again. “I’m just preparing a snack for you, as I said. Everything is fine. Get dressed and come to the living room.”
“Okay,” she says, unsure.
She’s so close, only steps away, getting undressed. She’s pure temptation, a living memory created to haunt me.
I’m completely haunted by our past and lost in the daydream of our future.
Opening her fridge, I gather some fruit, veggies, cheese, a jar of olives, and pickles. An idea forms, and I study her sauces, noticing special gourmet jams. Placing everything on her linoleum countertop, which I’ll fix, only the best granite for my Beautiful Girl, I searched for the cutting board.
It takes a few minutes to chop and slice; then, every piece has perfect placement on the wooden board. Noticing a baguette near the microwave, I cut that too and toast it in the toaster oven sitting to the left of the stove.
“Perfect.” I grab two sparkling cans of water from the fridge and head into the living room, preparing the coffee table for her feast.
I fluff the pillow and grab a blanket for her, then sit down, the couch giving under my weight.
My leg bounces as I wait for her. What’s taking so long? I can’t remember the last time I sat down with someone I was truly interested in and just…sat.
I’m so used to a fast-paced life. Something always needs to be done; someone always needs to be made an example, and people who work for me need to be paid.
All that takes time.
An empire doesn’t run itself, but the second I saw her bakery catch fire, I dropped everything. Nothing could get me to leave.
I hear soft footsteps padding against the floor, and when she enters the living room, her wet hair is plopped on top of her head, her face is clean of soot and makeup, and she’s in pajamas. Purple sweatpants and a shirt that is three times her actual size. It falls to her knees.
She looks perfect.
“I know,” she sighs, tugging on the hem of her shirt. “But big shirts are my favorite.”
“That’s good to know.” She can have all of my shirts. She’ll never have to buy another one again.
She takes the seat next to me, and her leg brushes mine. There’s an awkward moment that passes between us before we laugh, and another blush tints her cheeks.
“You’re beautiful,” I say to her, brushing my thumb back and forth in the curve where her shoulder meets her neck.
She doesn’t say anything. Camilla changes the subject instead, pointing to the food. “What’s all this?”
This is what I can put together last minute because I jacked off to hearing you moan my name on the other side of the bathroom door.
“I put together a charcuterie board. I hope you don’t mind. I have Alvize picking up the twins from daycare.”
“I don’t know—”
“—I trust him with my life. I’d get them myself, but I don’t feel comfortable leaving you.” I take her hand in my mind and stare into her eyes. “Alvize is someone you can trust. I’ve known him my entire life. He’s my best friend, a brother, my right hand.”
“He’s your right-hand man?”
Ah, of course, she’d know more about the meaning of that than anything else. “He is the guy that takes over if anything happens to me. If you can’t trust me, trust his position.”
“I’ve never had my kids with anyone I don’t know, Luca.” She rubs her palms on her thighs. “It’s only been them and me. They aren’t used to anyone else. I don’t know if they would even get in the car with him. No, this isn’t a good idea. I can’t.”
Her breathing becomes too shaky and unstable. She bends down, putting her head between her legs, and I lift her onto my lap.
“Look at me,” I say, grabbing onto the back of her neck to force her to meet my eyes. “I am not going to let anything happen to Oliver and Oliva. I’ll kill Alvize if one strand of their hair is out of place when they come home. And if it makes you feel any better, I’ll video chat him, and you can talk to the kids that way. I’m not comfortable with you driving, and I know you can, but I’m begging you to let me do this.”
“You aren’t the type that begs.” Her breath puffs against the side of my neck, and I drift my fingers up the spine of her back. Her entire body relaxes, melting against me, and I kiss her cheek.
I take this rare opportunity to hold her close before she gets off my lap and changes her mind. “I’m not the begging type, but I’ll beg when it comes to you, Camilla.”
She leans back, and her tongue flicks across her bottom lip while her eyes drop to my mouth.
“We can’t,” she whispers. “We can’t.”
“We can.” I lean forward, wanting the teasing to be over. “We most definitely can, Beautiful Girl. We can do whatever we want.” The distance between us becomes less and less as we move forward.
“This…this can’t happen,” she fights. “You’re my landlord.”
“In this city, I’m everyone’s landlord. Everyone answers to me.” Fuck it. I’m sick of this. I need to taste her. I close the distance between us at last, pressing our lips together in a firm and heated kiss.
Her hands grab my shirt, and she gasps into my mouth. I take that moment to slide my tongue between her lips, and I groan. I can taste her unease, her fear, but most importantly, her want. I control the kiss by keeping a grip on the back of her head. Her hair falls from the messy bun, and it tumbles down her shoulders. I growl when she rocks her hips, rubbing her cunt on my hard cock.
I flip her onto her back and press her against the couch, keeping one arm wrapped around her, so she’s tight against me. Our tongues dance with one another, but there’s no fight.
She knows I’m the one in charge.
“Fuck. You taste better than I remember.” We take a moment to catch our breaths, but the moment is short-lived when we clash our lips together again.
I’ll gladly struggle to breathe if it means the only air I’m inhaling is hers.
She untucks my shirt from my pants and skims her hands against my back. A broken moan escapes me when I feel her touch for only the second time in five years.
Without thinking, I roll my hips, pressing my cock against her core, and she whimpers. The friction is too good. I don’t think I’ll be able to stop.
“Do you know how much I want to tear these pants from your body and slide into your cunt? Do you know? I don’t think you do. The want I have for you has tortured me for five years.”
“And then you’ll get your fill and be done with me,” she says, sucking her bottom lip into my mouth.
Placing one hand on her throat, I keep the other on her hip, pressing her pussy against the hard ridge, aching to slip inside her. “Does it feel like I’d ever be done with you? Does it feel like I could ever get enough?” I nip her chin, continuing the desperate grind against her.
“Luca.” Her fingers dig into the muscles of my lower back, and her legs wrap around my waist.
“You’re out of your mind if you think for one second I’d ever be done with you. You can’t run from me anymore. You’re all mine, Camilla. Nothing can change that, not even your attempts to push me away.” I dip my hand into the waistband of her pajamas and run my finger through her wet slit. “Because it feels like you don’t want to be done with me either.” I suck my fingers into my mouth, her nectar bursting across my taste buds.
I was right.
She is sweeter than she was last time.
Our lips weld together again, the hint of her cunt still lingering on my tongue, and I know she can taste it. With every stroke of her clit through her clothes, she gasps for breath, and I grunt in response, chasing an orgasm twice in an hour.
I haven’t gotten off like this since I was fifteen, and every touch felt like fire.
That’s exactly what it’s like with Camilla. Every touch, every breath, it’s amplified. The desperate need is like the lust someone feels when they feel attraction for the first time. If you don’t get it, if you aren’t able to feel that person’s body under your hands, taste their kiss, or hear their pleasure, then you might just die.
It’s dramatic. Love always is when you’re young, but not when you’re my age.
I don’t feel like my age right now.
I’m that fucking kid in the back of my father’s car I stole for the night, holding my breath and counting to the highest number I can so I don’t come too fast. I’m that teenager again, fumbling with a condom and hoping I don’t come before I have a chance to be inside her.
That’s where I am.
Only this time, there will be no condom between us.
Again.
There will be no way I’ll stop after I orgasm. I’ll keep fucking her through every jet that escapes me, making a complete mess of her pussy.
I clutch her shoulders, driving into her harder, wishing there was nothing between us.
“Luca. Oh, God, “ she moans, just like she did when I took her virginity.
I wish I were the only man to have her body. I wish, in some way, every inch of her was only touched by me, and that’s unrealistic when it comes to how stunning she is.
I can tell she’s close. I remember how her body tightens, and her moans become whines. Her eyes like to close, and her cheeks become a bright red with the fever of her orgasm.
“That’s it, Beautiful Girl. Come for me. I’ve missed you. Come for me.” I apply more pressure to each thrust, and on the third, she shatters, crying out for all to hear, but it’s just the two of us. No one else is allowed to hear her call out my name except for me.
Her nails scratch down my back, and it’s enough to send me over the edge. I come, groaning into her mouth while I drown myself in a kiss again.
When we’re done, I slow the kiss, our heavy gasps showing how we are trying to catch our breath.
I push up, staring down at her, and her eyes are glazed but still manage to be full of questions.
Luckily, before she can say anything, my phone rings, effectively stopping her from spewing anything negative about what just happened.
I pick up my phone and put it on speaker. “Bianco,” I answer.
“I’m on my way to get the kids,” Alvize informs.
“When you’re there, video call us so she can talk to them. They won’t get in the car with a stranger.”
“Smart kids. Of course, I will. They are safe with me.”
“They better be.” A dark warning twists my tone. “I hope I don’t need to remind you what will happen if something happens to them.”
“I’m aware,” he says without concern. “We will be there in half an hour, and I’ll call in twenty.”
I hang up without saying anything else, then unzip my pants and free my cock to clean the drying come from my shaft.
“Luca!”
I grab a napkin from the coffee table; I look at her while I clean myself. I smirk. “What is it, Beautiful Girl? It isn’t like you haven’t seen it before.”
She turns to look at me again, and her eyes waver before giving in and dropping to my cock. I don’t miss how she almost falls forward or how her mouth forms an O.
“See?” I tease. “Just like you remembered.”
“Only better,” she adds, surprising herself that she let an admission like that slip.
I tuck myself in again and zip my pants, then head to the kitchen to throw away the soiled paper towel. When I walk into the living room again, she’s under a blanket and eating the food I prepared for her. She smears an apricot jam over the bread, adding cheese and a jalapeῇo.
“This is so good. Thank you for doing this. I don’t ever make anything for myself. I can’t remember the last time I had veggies and fruit. This is fantastic.” She barely swallows before taking a gulp of sparkling water.
I don’t like that she hasn’t taken care of herself. She deserves the best things, just like her kids do. When I take a seat, I wrap my arm around the back of the couch, and she snuggles into my side but lays the charcuterie board on my lap.
There will be certain aspects of her life that will change. First, I’ll have to make sure she has what she needs to care for herself. If we were together, there wouldn’t be a meal she’d miss. I’d cook for her, bring her breakfast in bed, then take her to an amazing restaurant for lunch while the kids were in daycare.
Camilla has this unique capability of making me want to plan out my life, but only if she’s in it.
“Can you tell me how you own the building?”
I shove an olive into my mouth, hoping this doesn’t cause her to run away. I won’t say that in the agreement she’s promised to me and me only. She’s independent and has a backbone that she won’t be afraid to use on me.
But you better believe, if Taylor tries to take her from me, I’ll make sure she knows she’s bound to me.
“Your father called a meeting with me. I was surprised, but since we always had a truce, I didn’t question whether to meet him or not. I did not expect to show up with him so sick. He asked me to keep you safe.”
“But you were rivals…” she says, confused.
“We had an agreement,” I correct her, scooting her closer to me. “It’s because of that agreement; he wanted me to protect you. We never went back on our word. We didn’t start wars or send deadly messages. He trusted me because of that. He said he didn’t protect you as he should have, so he gave me all his connections. I didn’t need them, but while I was there, I made sure to buy the building you were in.”
“Why?”
“I saw you before I met with your dad. I knew I needed a way to be close to you. Your dad agreed. It was a good way for me to keep an eye on you, but all the reasons I wanted were selfish. I only wanted a way to be in your life again.” I pop another olive into my mouth and wait for her to respond.
She’s twisting her hair around her finger and stares off into the distance. She’s quiet. So quiet I can hear the bubbles of the sparkling water hissing as they pop.
“I understand if you’re mad at me, but I really want to work through it. I don’t think you understand how much you imprinted on me, Camilla. I searched for you. I did everything I could to find you and came up empty. For five years, Camilla. Five. So when I saw you, I knew I had to do everything in my power to be close to you.” I turn to her, taking her hand in mine. “I understand if you’re mad or need time away from—”
She stops me from saying anything else by kissing me. Her hand is against my cheek, and the kiss is long but not heated, but it’s filled with the hope I’ve been craving for us.
“I’m not mad. I’m not mad at all. I’m surprised, but I feel…safe. I feel like even though my dad betrayed me, in the end, he tried to do what he could for me, and he called you. He must have really trusted you.” She blinks up at the ceiling as her eyes water. “I’m sorry.” Camilla wipes her tears away. “Our relationship was so rough. I wanted more with him, and I couldn’t have more. It’s too late.”
“May I ask what happened between the two of you that made you disappear? What did he do?”
She’s about to answer when my phone rings again, interrupting a very important conversation. I growl in annoyance, and that causes Camilla to laugh.
“You think that’s funny?”
“You’re cute when you’re growly.”
“I am not cute. I’m deadly. I’m a mafia boss. I lead the city.”
She puckers her lips and bops my nose. “And it’s cute.”
I grumble in disagreement. I’m not sure how that makes me feel. To others, I’d kill them if they said that to me, but with her, I’m glad she thinks I’m cute.
I’m a walking contradiction.
I press the green button to start the video call, and Alvize’s face takes up the screen. I tilt my head when the phone tumbles out of his hand, but then Oliver’s face takes up the full screen.
“Mommy?”
“Hey, baby. How was daycare?” she asks, having to scoot closer to me so her face can get in the screen.
“It was good. She tolded a story.”
“Told,” Camilla and I say in unison.
“Tolded isn’t a word, baby,” Camilla corrects him, and he rolls his eyes.
“Is Alvize there?” I ask, worried the kids are using him as a jungle gym.
“Yep.”
I chuckle. “Can you put him on the phone?”
“I can try. He’s helping Olivia across the monkey bars. He’s busy.” He runs, and the movement of the phone blurs his face, which causes Camilla and me to laugh.
These kids are amazing. What do I need to do to have this family she’s made and make them my own?
“Mr. Luca wants to talk to you!” Oliver shouts.
“Tell Mr. Luca I can’t talk right now. I think I threw my back out.” I hear Alvize say in the background while someone laughs.
I’m assuming that was Olivia.
“Get up, Mr. Al,” Oliver mumbles. “You have to take us home.”
“Are there ice packs at home?” Alvize questions on a groan.
Camilla throws a hand over her mouth and laughs so hard her shoulders shake.
“Wait. Wait. Up! Throw me in the air,” Olivia begs.
Camilla snatches the phone from me. “Don’t you dare. Olivia Jane. You know better than that.”
“I don’t mind.” Alvize finally grabs the phone from the kids. “They are a lot of fun.”
“Is that…are you bleeding?” Camilla asks.
I frown, looking at the screen, and yes, Alvize does have a cut on his cheek. “How did that happen?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know what happened, honestly. They are so fast. One minute they are in front of you, and you blink, then they are gone. I think I’ve had three heart attacks in a fifteen-minute window. I don’t know how parents do this.”
Camilla giggles. “You get used to it. It isn’t that bad after some practice.”
I wrap my arm around her and pull her against me, hating that she’s had to be a single mom. One kid is hard, but two? That seems impossible.
“Why are you breathing so hard, Mr. Al?” Oliver asks. “Are you out of shape like Mommy? Mommy says she is.”
“Oliver!” Camilla falls against me, cackling.
Kids are so honest.
“I happen to think you look fucking perfect,” I say, forgetting who we are on the phone with for a minute.
“Are you going to be my new daddy?”
“Uh, be home soon. Bye!” Alvize ends the call, and I’m left wondering if Oliver would want me to be his dad.
“Um, don’t think too much about what Oliver said. Kids say crazy things. I’ll…” she coughs. “I’ll be back. I’m going to get a few towels so the kids can shower when they get home.” She vanishes down the hall, and I’m left on the couch, having Oliver’s words float around in my head.
I haven’t known those kids long, but I’m drawn to them like a damn magnet. I want to be around. I want to protect them and provide for them.
We can be happy together. I know we can. I can give her the world, but she has to trust me enough to do it.
I stand, needing to walk around and stretch my legs, then head to the window. I have a perfect view of Taylor’s bookshop. If she can see him, then he can see her, and that makes me want to hack into every computer he owns.
If, at the end of the day, she doesn’t want to be with me, the one thing I’ll never allow is for her to be with him.
I won’t let him ruin my chance of becoming a father to two amazing children.
Sliding the curtains closed, I sneer at the window before taking a seat on the couch again.
This is my home.
No one fucks with what is mine.
