Page 42 of Captured Fantasy

Not bothering to respond, I stumbled across the bloody bodies, almost tripping over a man laying across the door. His head lolled back and I recognized him as one of Lucien’s soldiers. I’d seen him at the country club not long ago, he was the man who had made the vulgar comment about Lorenza.

Fuck this.

My hands shook as I got into my truck, gripping the steering wheel until my knuckles were white. I’d never felt anything even close to this before. Less than ten minutes ago, I’d stared death in the face and accepted it. Was I still alive? Or was this some kind of after death vision?

No, I was definitely alive. The stinging in my hand alerted me to that astounding fact.

As I pulled out onto the gravel road, my heart still palpitating in my chest, the smell of burnt flesh seared into my nostrils, I realized there was no fucking way I was going back to my apartment. In the stillness of that empty space by the river, I would go insane.

I needed something good. Something that smelled like clean linen and lilacs on a hot summer day. Something perfect like the divine Mrs. Lorenza Russo.

CHAPTER TWELVE

LORENZA

My fingers delved beneath the thin lace over my hips, circling my clit. Bringing me closer and closer. My body stiffened as an orgasm rose to the surface, so near I could almost taste it. Biting my tongue, I let out a little whine, working my hips against nothing.

God, I was so close, I just couldn’t get myself over the edge.

Rolling onto my side, I took the dildo out of the bedside table and opened my thighs. It slid easily past my soaked entrance, filling me and giving me something to grip. I found the sweet spot on the side of my clit and worked it with my middle finger in short, quick strokes.

That was good. Not as good as I imagined it would be to come on a man’s cock, but better than nothing.

From below, someone pounded on the door. The sound shot through the house, setting my already hammering heart pumping even harder. Slipping the dildo from between my thighs and tossing it and the vibrator into the drawer, I brushed down my slip and got to my feet.

I glanced at the grandfather clock as I passed through the hall. It was almost one in the morning. It couldn’t be Federico. He had texted me to let me know he was busy and wouldn’t be coming over until tomorrow night.

I cracked the door slightly, keeping the chain bolted. Standing under the porch light, streaked with dark crimson, stood Cosimo Barone. His broad shoulders were tense and his face was down, turned and in profile.

My mouth went dry and I slid back the lock. He heard me open the door and he looked up, his eyes glittering.

“Mrs. Russo.”

“What happened to you?” I breathed, my throat dry.

Without speaking, he pushed his boot against the door and shoved it ajar. I scarcely had a second to think before he took me by the upper arm, shutting the door behind him, and we were bathed in darkness. Before my eyes could adjust, he pushed me against the wall beneath the stairs.

Our heavy breathing filled the hot space between our bodies. My eyes adjusted and I could make out the shape of his mouth. So close to mine. His hard palm slid up the side of my throat and circled it. Holding me gently by the neck. I closed my eyes, heat pounding through me like a drum.

I had wanted this secretly since the first moment he’d laid a hand on me. The memory of his touch had brought me to orgasm countless times. Now it was real. There was nothing in the world but darkness, the heat of his body, the scent of blood, and this desperate wild need between our bodies.

“Cosimo,” I whispered, swallowing past his grip.

He swore under his breath and then his mouth was on mine. It was everything I’d imagined it would be and so much more. Firm and insistent when it first contacted my lips. Then as he opened my lips with his, I tasted him and my knees went weak. My head spun as his tongue flicked to the roof of my mouth before retreating. Tasting me as he consumed me with slow strokes.

When he pulled back, he pressed his forehead to mine. His hand was still firm around my throat, holding me still. My breasts ached for his touch beneath the thin fabric separating our bodies. He was so close I could smell the sweat on him and see the glitter of desire in the depths of his eyes.

And I wanted it. Every part of him.

In my chest, something broke and warmth flooded me. I was cold and I had been for such a long time. Even when Lucien held me or when Federico took me to bed, I was always so indeterminably cold. But standing before Cosimo with his bloody hands on me, I felt his heat sear through my skin and break the ice in my chest.

“Cosimo,” I whispered. “Please.”

In an explosion of movement, he lifted me in his arms. That hungry place between my thighs throbbed as I wrapped my arms around his neck. His mouth connected with mine, consuming me as he carried me blindly up the stairs.

We paused in the hallway. He pulled off his t-shirt, wiping his bloody hands on it. It fell to the floor, forgotten and soiled beneath our feet. I was too drunk on desire and the sight of him half naked to be shy anymore. I’d waited too long for this moment.

He laughed softly as I grabbed him by the belt buckle and pulled him close, winding my fingers in his hair.

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