Page 23 of Isle of Beauty

“Ride me, baby,” he whispers against my ear and trails his tongue against my nape and shoulders before slapping my ass.

I pick up speed, the angle making me take him deeper. My cries are so loud the neighbours are probably having the time of their lives listening to us fuck. It adds to my arousal and I cry louder yet.

My rhythm becomes erratic. I reach for my nipples, tweaking and pulling them to the point of pleasurable pain.

Pierce brackets my throat with one of his hands, giving it a light squeeze. I burn hotter than before. He slides his other hand to my clit and slaps it hard. It’s a shock to my system, I yelp and explode on his cock, shaking from the aftermath of my release.

He manoeuvres us until I’m on my back and his cock finds my pussy again and sinks in to the hilt. I’m so sensitive but I’m excited to see him come again.

I pull his head to me for a filthy kiss, until he travels down my jaw and neck and comes back to my mouth to suck on my tongue while thrusting his hips without respite.

Resting on his elbow, Pierce brings one of his hands to my abused clit again and flicks it in fast circles. “Just fucking take it.”

“Oh God,” I cry out in pleasure-pain, his callousness as much a turn on as his kindness.

He slaps my breast, shocking me completely and I moan, surprised I love it as much as I do. I want him to do it again.

“What did I tell you about God’s name when you’re with me?”

I call out his name instead and he unleashes himself until euphoria reaches me faster than ever before. Waves after waves of exhilaration take over my body, his name the only sound leaving my lips, and I feel the telltale jerks of his cock inside me.

We are both left breathless, a mess of sweat and a tangle of legs.

He collapses onto my chest, my hands immediately finding his soft hair and petting him mindlessly. I’m not sure for whose benefit I’m doing it.

“Stay here.” He leaves the bed to walk in the en-suite bathroom to retrieve a warm cloth. Tenderly, he cleans up the mess I made between my thighs.

I tense up and my throat constricts with the rest of my muscles. It’s too much. I shake my head at the onslaught of unfamiliar feelings but stay silent, watching him intently. He’s so focused on his task, yet his expression is open, vulnerable.

What would it be like to marry a man like him instead of Eduardo Garcia?

He isn’t done with taking care of me, giving me a glass of water, and asking if I need anything to eat. He insists for a few minutes before I convince him that I’m totally fine.

But I’m not fine. I’m fraying at the edges. I don’t want to give in to the affection he’s so freely offering, the care with which he moves around me to make sure I’m comfortable, warm, fed and cherished. It’s too fucking much.

Thankfully, he’s done with his ministrations and I can go relieve myself. Hands on the sink, my head falls between my shoulders. I look at myself in the mirror and wonder for a second why I thought it was such a good idea to get entangled with someone just before I leave everything behind.

“You’re Alana Fucking Moretti. There’s nothing you can’t survive. Now, get yourself together and leave.”

When I open the door, the gorgeous man who just made me see stars and feel raw and untethered is looking at me with a droopy smile. For him, there’s not even a doubt that I won’t sleep here, in his bed, in his arms. He’s so open I want to yell at him to block me out. Instead, I join him in bed and let him cuddle up to me.

“Sleep, mo cara.” His voice is heavy with sleep. He probably thinks I can’t understand the typical Kalliste endearment he’s chosen for me. It makes leaving even worse.

Five more minutes. I deserve to fake happiness for five more minutes. I deserve to pretend this was just one of the many nights I’ll have with him, that I’ll see him again soon for another hidden gem, for a lazy breakfast in his modern kitchen, for a stroll through the park, coffee in hand.

I deserve to feel normal for a few minutes. I deserve to believe if we’d had the chance, he could have been the one I finally let myself be vulnerable with, the one who’d hold all my secrets just as much as he knows all of London’s.

When I’m sure Pierce is fast asleep, I peel myself from under his arms, put on my clothes and go out the door without looking back.

He isn’t meant for me to have.

It’s just before six in the morning when I arrive at my flat to pick up my small suitcase. Its emptiness is a mirror for my soul. The only furniture left came with the house, bland white bookcases and beige couch devoid of Giulia’s colourful throw pillows.

She isn’t here either. Knowing her, she’ll meet me on the tarmac of the private airport we’re flying from.

I wish I could take a shower, but even the towels have been packed. At least I get to smell like him for another few hours.

The place now looks like any holiday rental you’d find in the city and a cleaner will come in later to change the sheets and make sure it’s ready for other people to move in, erasing our presence permanently.

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