Page 3 of Better Left Unsaid

I quirked a brow. “You’re not leaving, are you?”

She laughed and lightly hooked a finger over the gold chain that hung from my neck. “I think the mood has been shot to hell. Don’t you?”

“Was there a mood?” I hadn’t realized.

Maria laughed and eyed my cock. “We don’t even have protection.”

I inhaled and looked around. This was the groom’s suite, there had to be protection around here somewhere. Then it dawned on me. “My wallet.” I always came prepared.

Maria pushed me off her. “Fine. Get it,” she said, a sparkle in her eye.

I’d never moved so fast. I ripped the package open with my teeth in a carnal way that was even surprising to me. But I was desperate to be inside her already. Without hesitation, I rolled the condom over myself before climbing on top of Maria again. “Ready.”

“Less talking and more doing,” Maria insisted, raking her nails down my shoulders, and unbuttoned my shirt, slipping her hands under the crisp white material. “I’m wet and ready for you, but—”

“I know, I know,” I rasped. “We don’t have a lot of time.”

* * *

Maria

Didn’t have a lot of time might have actually been an understatement. It was only a matter of time before someone figured out I was missing, too, and their thoughts ran away from them. Rocco would be the first to question things.

The time was practically ticking with every throb I felt from his cock at my entrance. He sank inside me and brought himself to the hilt in one strong, urgent thrust that had me arching my back and letting out a moan of pleasure in response. Geez, that felt good. Why wasn’t he moving, though?

“You okay?” he asked, his eyes on mine, concentrated on me in a way that made me feel slightly too seen. It felt too emotional. Not what this was supposed to be at all.

I cleared my throat and rolled my eyes, trying to make it seem like it was no big deal at all to have my best friend deep inside me. I mean, who cared anyway? It wasn’t like we were going to make a habit out of this or anything.

Although, I might not have minded doing it again.

At least one more time. You know, just because I felt like I was getting robbed out of the full experience since this was purely a get-in-and-get-out mission. I’d always heard Dominic Deluca was a god when it came to sex. At least, that was what his girlfriends had insisted on telling me even though I had never asked.

I finally nodded my assurance that I was indeed okay. “You going to rev your engine sometime today?”

He gave me an arrogant smirk. “Wow. I always thought lasagna was your dish of choice. I’m beginning to think you’d take a helping of cock if you had the option.”

I ran my hands across his back and over the angel wings tattooed there that I wished I could run my tongue over. What? We were friends, but I wasn’t blind. Dom was attractive, plain and simple.

He was tall, dark, and handsome with the body of a builder and the face of a model. Which made sense since he was, in fact, a model. He didn’t have a pretty boy look but wasn’t exactly rough-around-the-edges either. He was somewhere in between, and I couldn’t say I hated it. My body was definitely turned on by his looks. Either that or it was the monstrosity of manhood that was currently taking up residence inside me.

He thrust inside me over and over again, my breasts brushing the satin of my dress with the intense strength of his thrusts. The only thing that filled the air besides the waves crashing against the shoreline just outside the room was the sound of arousal as his hips slapped mine, and he pounded into me like the world was ending and this would be the last time two people would ever have sex.

He pulled on my thighs, placing his hands on the back of them. I knew what he was doing—trying to fuck me from a better angle—so I assisted, wrapping my legs higher around his waist. My feet nearly hit his ears as I contorted for him to forcefully thrust deeper.

I almost felt bad because I had kept something from him. Maybe he wouldn’t have done this with me had he known about my dirty, little secret. Although, there was nothing dirty or little about it, and it technically wasn’t even a secret. It was just that Dom didn’t know about it yet. The truth was, I was broken. I couldn’t orgasm. It was a problem my ex-boyfriends had. The only person who had ever been able to get over the fact that I’d likely never orgasm had been my kid’s late father.

“Show me what it feels like to come,” I mumbled, not sure if I wanted him to hear me. If I was being honest, I guessed I hoped he didn’t hear me. It would surely make it a lot simpler. Although, he’d know soon enough because I didn’t want to fake it. I’d done it before with an ex, and it was obvious. I was always real with Dom, though. This should have been no different, right?

If he did hear me, then he didn’t respond, only continued pumping as we found our rhythm, and I waited for the moment I’d been waiting a lifetime for.

But nothing.

He knew it, too.

“Come, Maria,” he demanded, the bedsprings whining. “Come because I’m barely holding on here.”

Shit. This was embarrassing.

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