Page 80 of Their Reckless Thief
“I want to fuck you into oblivion,” I growled. “Maybe that’ll shut your godsdamn mouth.”
Her breath hitched, and for a second, I thought she might let me. The heat between us was impossible to ignore. I leaned in, lips inches from hers, but she twisted her head away at the last second.
“No.” Her voice wavered, but it had a resolute edge. “You can have my body, Vincenzo, but you can’t havethat.”
I froze, staring at her, my hand still on her chin. “What the fuck does that mean?”
“If I let you kiss me, it gets too complicated. I’ll start developing stupid, girly feelings. And I can’t afford that.”
Rage flared hot in my chest. Her words weren’t merely a rejection… they were a fucking insult. She thought she could remain this cold, this detached, as if her emotions were something she could control. It infuriated me.
Was I any different, though? Maybe Luca was right. Maybe Celeste and I were the same.
I spun her around carefully, mindful of her injuries, and positioned her in front of the full-length mirror. The mirrored surface reflected her face—defiant, flushed, yet something deeper lingered beneath the bravado. Lust. Fear. Vulnerability.
“Look at yourself,” I murmured. “Look how beautiful you are. Watch what you do to me.”
She tensed, her lips parting as if to argue, but I reached up and gently swept her hair over one shoulder, exposing the long curve of her neck. I bent down, pressing a featherlight kiss to the sensitive skin where her pulse thrummed. Her breath hitched, her expression flickering between uncertainty and desire.
I trailed my fingers to the waistband of her shorts, my movements unhurried, deliberate. “Tell me if it’s too much,” I whispered against her ear, my tone soft, almost tender. She didn’t respond with words, but the way her body melted beneath my touch spoke louder than anything she could have said.
Slowly, I eased her shorts and panties down, letting the fabric pool at her ankles. She stared back at me in the mirror, her cheeks flushed, her lips trembling.
“You’re stunning,” I said, my voice rough with restrained need. “Every inch of you.”
Her breath came faster as I dropped to my knees behind her, kissing the backs of her thighs, every movement measured and reverent. Her skin was soft and warm, and I traced the curves of her hips with my hands, smoothing over the faint bruises with care. Each mark fueled my silent vow—she would never feel this kind of pain again.
“Keep your eyes on the mirror,” I murmured, the command gentle but firm. “I want you to see how fucking perfect you are.”
I moved in front of her. She glanced down at me, hesitation flashing in her eyes, but as my hands slid up the insides of her thighs, her attention drifted back to her reflection. I kissed the tender skin there, just shy of where she ached most, savoring the way her body tensed with anticipation.
“You deserve to be adored,” I said softly against her skin. “Let me give you that.”
She let out a soft, broken sound. I parted her folds with my fingers, my touch light and exploratory. The heat of her arousal was intoxicating, her body responding to every caress, every stroke. I glanced up, catching her eyes as I pressed a kiss to her most sensitive spot.
“Vincenzo…” Her voice wavered, betraying her vulnerability. Her head tipped back, her lips parted in a silent gasp as I circled her clit with my tongue, slow and deliberate.
I didn’t rush. I wanted her to feel every flick, every swirl, every press of my mouth against her. Her legs trembled, her knees threatening to give out, but I steadied her with firm hands on her hips, holding her up as I worshipped her. Her soft, breathless moans filled the room, each one sending a jolt of heat through me.
“You taste like heaven,” I whispered, pulling back just enough to let her see my face. Her eyes met mine, wide and dark with need. “Do you see what you do to me,dolcezza? Look at yourself.”
She whimpered, her gaze dropping to where I was between her legs, my fingers joining my tongue as I slid one inside her, slowly, carefully. Her body trembled, her back arching as I curled my finger against her inner walls.
“That’s it,” I encouraged, my voice low and soothing. “Let me take care of you.”
Her hips moved instinctively, chasing the pleasure, and I added another finger, stretching her gently as my thumb circled her clit. Her moans grew louder, her head falling forward, but I reached up and tilted her chin toward the mirror.
“No hiding,” I said, my lips brushing the curve of her hip. “I want you to see everything.”
Her eyes fluttered open, meeting mine in the glass, and the vulnerability there nearly undid me. She was breathtaking, her body trembling as I brought her closer to the edge, every movement of my hand and mouth designed to worship her, to make her feel cherished, wanted, and adored.
“Vincenzo,” she gasped, her voice breaking. Her reflection was a masterpiece, every arch of her body, every gasp, every moan a testament to the pleasure I was giving her. Her climax hit her in waves, her body clenching around my fingers as she cried out, her reflection a vision of pure, unrestrained ecstasy.
I held her steady as she rode out the aftershock, my fingers slowing but never stopping, drawing out every last tremor of her release. When she finally stilled, I rose to my feet, pulling her back against my chest. Her skin was damp with sweat, her body soft and pliant against mine.
“Look at yourself,” I murmured, brushing my lips against her ear. “Look at how beautiful you are when you let go.”
She met my gaze in the mirror, her expression a mixture of wonder and exhaustion. I pressed a kiss to her temple, my hands smoothing over her bruises with the utmost care.
