Caruso;
Dragging my teeth over my lip and popping it back out, a shocking wave of current tightens in my muscles.
Big, wide eyes gawk at me silently. That roundish mouth, slightly parted, fist curling and strangling her dress.
I retract my cock from the warm hole, stuffing the limp muscle into my briefs and buckling my pants. "Get the fuck out."
The blonde girl—I don't even know her name—throws a look over her shoulder, a protest waging on her tongue, but a death glare from me has her swallowing it.
She straightens from her bent posture, yanking up her underwear and letting her voluminous dress fall.
Hardly paying attention to her, my gaze is set on the girl in front of me, standing perplexed under an alcove in the building.
The blonde scowls as she passes her by, but my little thing doesn't even notice. The soft skin on her neck flexes and bobs as she stares at me. Like she can't move. Can't talk. Can't fucking think.
I stalk towards her, and she viscerally curls in on herself, taking a step back that I don't think she notices.
"Enjoy the show?" tilting my head, I grunt.
"Wh-what show? I—I didn't see anything."
Her head lifts a little higher, her voice coming off in trembling breaths.
Catching the reddish hue tinting her cheeks, I flick her a lazy look. "Is your mouth lying again, little one?"
Her brows knit, she blinks. "What?"
Inching closer, I lower my head, crowding her against the wall. She unfortunately finds herself trapped. Soft, hot breath pours from her mouth, skimming my neck as her shallow breathing heats my ears.
"The blushing is giving you away," I rasp, flatly.
That soft gasp she lets out whenever she's caged in—they fucking sound like music. A forbidden sound that's not meant for me.
I'm so goddamned ready to wring it out of her. Huff by fucking huff. Until there's no more little sounds left in her.
Not for anybody else.
"That's…that's—"
Leaning back, I watch her struggle for a verbal defense. Thick, fluttering lashes batting with every ticking second.
"It's my makeup…the servants—they applied more than usual."
"Really?"
Her gaze meets mine, and she immediately recognizes the taunt in them. "Not like I watched it intentionally—you were just in plain sight, didn't even bother to hide." Her lips twitch as her eyes drop to the battered grass.
This is the first time I've seen her speak without calculating her words.
"So you did see?" A tug snags at my lips.
Unexpectedly, more color sparks, creeping all the way up her face and the sides of her neck.
Realization crawls in as I jerk a brow. "You've never been touched."
It isn't a question. It's a fact.
And as I say it, I believe it even more.
The way her blue irises expand, that pink plumpness caught between sharp teeth—further confirming my guess.
"You really haven't been touched." This time, there's an edge lurking in my voice. I don't even realize it until that feral feeling begins to fester.
Like a primal need, I reach out, my thumb grazing the softness of her bottom lip and slowly pulling it free from the merciless grip of her teeth.
Her body tenses, tightness wrapping around her. She doesn't even breathe.
Then, for fuck's sake, I don't know where she finds the nerve, but she looks me straight in the eyes, resolve glistening in hers, and says—
"And if I asked you to touch me…would you?"
Fucking fuck.
A muscle flares in my jaw and I grind on it, taking a predatory step closer.
She presses back, as if trying to merge with the wall behind her.
What the fuck did she think that would do?
It only makes me want to lean into that animalistic instinct—to do something uncivilized to her. Right here. Right now.
A grumble erupts from my chest.
She's a fucking temptation.
But I choose to believe this headiness is from my inability to come recently. Really. No matter where I shove my cock.
And I don't want to accept that it has anything to do with a little dark-haired, blue-eyed, 5'3 problem.
Slipping my hand out of my pocket, I let it rest on the smooth wall beside her, caging her in.
The calm breeze carries her quiet sigh into my ears, making my blood hum and seethe like a raging volcano.
Coupled with her scent making my nostrils flare. "I don't fuck minors." I deadpan.
My gaze drops to her lips just in time to see them press together, possibly nursing a bruised ego.
"I'll be twenty by summer," she defends.
Fuck me.
She knows exactly what she's implying.
"Celeste Montagna," I growl her name, equal parts frustration and depraved hunger.
Her breath hitches, spine stiffening.
And fuck me twice, because before my brain can stop me, my head dips to the crook of her neck, my lips pressing against the shivering pulse beneath her skin.
Celeste whimpers. And it's the sexiest thing I've ever heard my whole life.
Blood rushes south—towards the motherfucker I've been trying to wake up for the past days.
And here it is, shamelessly coming alive for a girl that's not mine to ruin.
And fuck, do I want to ruin her.
My mouth trails along her skin, pressing heated, lingering, wet touches along her jaw, her earlobe, down to the hollow of her neck, breathing her in like something addictive.
When my teeth sink into her flesh, she moans, "Caruso," all breathy and consumed.
A savage growl tears from my chest.
I nearly lose it right there.
Fuck it. Fuck this. And most importantly—fuck me.
Her chest presses against mine, and she's a heaving, trembling mess.
Tension coils through me like a tightening noose, snapping what little control I have left.
One hand grips her hip and waist, the other still braced against the wall as I push my leg between hers.
She gasps at the contact, her fingers tangling and buried in my hair.
"You're such a needy thing, little one," I groan into her ear.
She buries her face in my chest, breathing hard, moving faster—more desperate. Her lips fall open, whimpers slipping through.
"Mmm…" she bites down on her lip, trying to hold it in. "Caruso—uhh—"
Not on my watch.
She jolts when I bite down on her collarbone.
Her sounds come out broken, breathless—completely incoherent.
It makes my balls ache.
She starts moving against me, chasing friction, too impatient, too needy. Clinging, dragging her nails through my shirt.
I can feel it—she's close.
Her hair clings damply to her skin despite the cool air.
"Look at me," I grit out, forcing her head up, my fingers wrapping around her throat to keep her gaze on mine. "Look at me while you shatter, la mia mania."
And she does.
Half-lidded eyes. Broken breaths. Mouth parted.
I clamp my palm over her mouth just as she comes undone, her scream muffled as her body trembles against mine.
Seconds later, she goes slack against my chest, breathing hard.
We stay like that. Silent.
For a moment, I let myself get lost in it.
Like this could be real.
Until my eyes catch the glinting ring on her finger.
And just like that—the illusion shatters.
Reality slams back in.
I start to pull away from her tightening grip—
When screams rip through the air.
Rapid spray of gunfire erupts.
"Fuck." I drawl, low and rough.
Regret—and something dangerously close to self-disgust—settling deep in my chest.