Page 100 of Veil of Smoke

“Yeah,” I say, feeling that truth settle deep. “With you.”

He leans closer, his shoulder pressing against mine. “Always worth it.”

I turn to him, his face sharp in the starlight, and I feel the pull, the choice I’ve made. “Always will be.”

The blanket shifts as I adjust, cushions sinking beneath us, and I feel the night wrap tight, cool and clear, a space that’s ours alone.

“I used to think I’d break under this,” I say, voice low, staring at the lake. “The fight, the stakes.”

“You’re stronger than that,” he says, fingers lacing with mine, warm and solid. “Always were.”

I nod, a small laugh slipping out. “Took me a while to see it.”

He grins, faint but real. “I saw it first.”

The city pulses below, Lake Michigan stretching endless, and I feel grounded, not caught, free in a way I’ve fought for.

I kiss him, then, soft and sure. When I pull back, my lips are tingling.

I reach for his shirt, my fingers steady as I unbutton it, peeling it off slow, my eyes locked on his. His chest rises quick, dark gaze meeting mine, and I feel the strength in this, in choosing every touch.

He lifts his hands to my dress, pausing, waiting for my cue. I nod, and he slides the straps down my shoulders, the black fabric falling to my feet, leaving me bare under the open sky.

“You’re stunning,” he says, voice low, thick with hunger, and I step closer, pressing my hands to his chest, feeling his heartbeat thrum under my palms.

“So are you,” I say, guiding him down to the blanket. The cushions shift beneath us, and I settle beside him, tracing the stitches on his ribs, gentle but sure.

He exhales, hands brushing my thighs, and I lean in, kissing him deep, my tongue sweeping his. This isn’t surrender. This is declaration. A crown made of touch. A promise pressed into skin.

I tug at his jeans, undoing them slow, and he kicks them off, his cock hard and ready. I smile, running my fingers along him, and he groans, low and raw, watching me.

“Fuck,” he breathes, pulling me closer, lips grazing my neck, kissing firm. I tilt my head, moaning soft, and push him back, rolling us so he’s flat on the blanket.

“My move,” I say, voice husky, climbing over him. I shift, turning, straddling him backward, my thighs framing his face as I lean down toward his cock.

“Viviana,” he says, voice rough, hands gripping my hips, guiding me down. I feel his breath hot against my pussy, and I moan, taking him in my mouth, tasting salt and him.

“Fuck,” I gasp, sucking slow, my tongue swirling around him as he licks me, long and deep, his mouth warm and sure. We move together, a rhythm we share, intense and sweaty.

He groans into me, the sound vibrating through my core, and I rock my hips, pressing harder against his tongue. “Yeah,” I pant, taking him deeper, my throat tightening around him.

His hands roam my ass, squeezing firm, and he sucks my clit, teasing with quick flicks. I shudder, sucking him harder, and we switch the lead, him driving me wild, then me pushing him further.

“Fuck, Dario,” I moan, voice muffled, my lips sliding along him, wet and fast. He thrusts shallow into my mouth, matching my pace, and I feel him tremble, close but holding on.

I grind against his face, his tongue plunging deep, and I pull back just enough to say, “Come with me.” He groans, loud and raw, sucking harder, and I take him fully, gagging soft as he fills my throat.

Pleasure crashes through me, hot and wild, and I come, shaking hard, my thighs clenching around his head, soaking his mouth. He follows, spilling thick down my throat, a rough shout muffled against me.

I swallow, panting, and roll off, collapsing beside him, our bodies slick with sweat. The stars spin above, and I catch my breath, tangled in the blanket.

“Fuck,” he laughs, ragged and real, pulling me close. I rest my head on his chest, feeling his heart pound, steady and strong.

“Whatever comes tomorrow,” I murmur, voice soft, tracing his skin, “I’ll never regret tonight.”

He brushes my hair back, his touch gentle. “Then let’s make sure tomorrow remembers us.”

I shift, propping up to look at him, his dark hair mussed, stitches faint under the starlight. “You’re not mine to protect anymore,” he says, voice low, eyes steady.

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