007

SCARLETT

The kiss wasn't gentle at first. It wasn't hesitant either.

I didn't want to think. I didn't want to remember.

I wanted one moment where Matteo wasn't in my head.

Raffaele stood completely still for half a second.

Then his hand came up and wrapped around my waist.

He kissed me back slowly and deeply.

The difference between his hesitation and the way he kissed me made my chest tighten.

He wasn't rushing me.

He wasn't taking.

He was waiting.

His mouth moved against mine again, and I felt myself grip his shirt tighter but Raffaele suddenly pulled back, his forehead resting lightly against mine.

Both of us were breathing harder.

His hand remained at my waist. "Tell me to stop. Please Scarlett. "

I opened my eyes and he was looking directly at me.

There was no teasing in his expression now. No smug smile. Nothing playful.

Just a question. A real one.

I stared at him for a moment then smiled faintly. "Please don't stop."

Something changed in his eyes. His hand moved slightly against my waist.

Then he kissed me again and this time, there was no hesitation.

And as the door slowly closed behind us, I allowed myself one selfish moment.

One moment where I didn't think about the future.

One moment where Matteo Moretti didn't exist.

One moment where I could simply forget that I had already died once.

Raffaele didn't even let me take a breath before he had me pinned against the wood, his mouth crashing onto mine with a hunger that made my knees buckle.

He tasted of expensive wine and raw desire, his tongue sweeping into my mouth to claim me with a confidence that always left me breathless.

Before I could even blink, my clothes were off.

I groaned into the kiss, my hands clutching at the fabric of his shirt, but as his hands began to roam, a familiar, cold spike of anxiety pierced through the heat.

He slid his palms down my sides, squeezing the soft curve of my hips, and I instinctively stiffened. I tried to pull back slightly, my mind racing with the thoughts that always haunted me—the way my stomach folded, the softness of my thighs, the sheer amount of me compared to the sculpted, lean perfection of him.

Raffaele felt the shift instantly. He paused, his forehead resting against mine, his dark eyes searching my face. He didn't pull away; instead, he let out a low, rumbling hum and kissed the tip of my nose.

"Stop thinking, cara," he whispered, his voice a gravelly caress. "Just feel me. Feel how much I want you."

What did he just call me? When did we start using pet names?

He didn't give me time to argue. He scooped me up, my weight effortless in his strong arms, and carried me toward the expansive bed.

When he dropped me onto the silk sheets, my long black hair splayed out around me like a dark halo.

I instinctively tried to pull the duvet over my midsection, a reflexive shield against his gaze, but Raffaele was faster. He gripped the edge of the fabric and yanked it away with a playful smirk, leaving me exposed in the dim light of the suite.

I felt naked in more ways than one. I looked up at him—his chiseled jawline, the way his chest muscles strained against his shirt—and felt a wave of inadequacy. But Raffaele wasn't looking at me with judgment. He was looking at me like I was a feast.

"You are breathtaking," he murmured, his eyes tracing every curve of my body with an intensity that made my skin prickle.

He stripped off his clothes with a fluid grace that made me ache. When he stood before me completely naked, he was a masterpiece of Italian bronze and hard muscle. I wanted to hide, but the way he looked at me—with genuine, unadulterated lust—started to melt the ice in my chest.

He crawled over me, his body a warm weight that pinned me down. He didn't go for the kill immediately; he started to tease. His lips traveled from my jawline down to my throat, biting softly at the sensitive skin there. I gasped, arching my back, and he moved lower, his tongue swirling around my nipples through the thin lace of my bra.

"Raffaele..." I whimpered, my fingers digging into his shoulders.

"Shh," he whispered against my skin. "I'm going to taste every single inch of you."

He reached down and flicked the clasp of my bra, tossing it aside. He spent an eternity worshipping my breasts, his mouth engulfing one nipple while his hand squeezed the fullness of the other. He used his tongue to tease the peaks, swirling and sucking until I was sobbing his name. Every time I tried to shift or hide a fold of skin, he would kiss that exact spot, marking me with a tenderness that felt like a promise.

Then, he moved lower. He slid my panties down my legs, leaving me completely bare. I felt the urge to close my legs, to shield my pussy from his sight, but he gently pushed my knees apart. He knelt between my thighs, his chiseled face framed by the pale softness of my legs.

"Look at me, Scarlett," he commanded softly.

I looked down, seeing him there, and the sight of his mouth hovering just inches from my clit made my breath hitch. He started with slow, agonizingly light licks, teasing the outer lips, circling the sensitive bud of my clit without actually touching it. I was shaking, my hips twitching upward, desperate for the friction.

"Please," I begged.

He chuckled, a low vibration I could feel in my core, and then he dove in. He buried his face in me, his tongue broad and flat as he licked from my asshole up to my clit in one long, wet stroke.

I screamed, my fingers locking into his hair, pulling him closer. He began to suck my clit with a rhythmic intensity, his tongue flickering rapidly while his fingers slid inside me, stretching me open.

The sensation was overwhelming. The insecurity that usually clouded my mind was being drowned out by the sheer electricity of his mouth. I felt the orgasm building, a tidal wave of heat, and just as I peaked, he slid two fingers deeper, hitting my G-spot with precision. I came with a violent shudder, my walls clamping down on his fingers as I wailed into the quiet room.

As I drifted back down, breathless and trembling, Raffaele crawled up my body, his cock hard and throbbing against my thigh. He looked into my eyes, his expression soft.

"You are perfect, amore" he whispered, and I actually believed him. “Now I'm gonna fuck you.” He whispered and I desperately nodded.

He moved over me, guiding his thick cock to my entrance. He entered me slowly, a long, sliding stretch that filled me completely. I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper.

He didn't just fuck me, he held me. He locked his fingers with mine, pinning my hands to the pillow, and began to drive into me with a steady, passionate rhythm. Every thrust was deep, hitting the back of my womb, and as he looked into my eyes, I felt a sense of safety I had never known. I stopped worrying about how I looked and started focusing on how he felt—hard, hot, and utterly devoted to my pleasure.

“Turn over.” He groaned.

He flipped me over, pushing me onto my hands and knees. I felt a flash of panic, knowing my backside was fully exposed to him. I tried to arch my back to hide the curve of my stomach, but Raffaele reached forward, his large hands gripping my hips and pulling me back against him.

He leaned down, biting my shoulder and whispering filth in my ear about how fat and succulent my ass looked. The way he praised my size turned my shame into arousal.

He entered me from behind with a powerful thrust that made me gasp. He gripped my waist, his fingers digging into my flesh, and hammered into me. The slapping sound of his balls against my ass echoed in the room, and I loved the raw, primal energy of it.

“Fuck…” A moan escaped his lips as he continued to pounded into me.

“Harder!” I dare to plea. “Harder!”

I heard him chuckle deeply and then gave me exactly what I asked for until I was panting and begging him to go faster.

I could feel his huge hard dick as he rammed into me over and over again. His thumb finally found my asshole and he teased it, making slow circles just around it and pushing in just a little, earning a moan from me.

“Yeah? You like that shit?” He grabbed a handful of my hair and used them as reins, gently grabbing my throat to pound me even harder.

“Yes papi.”

He spanked me hard, making me jump with a gasp. “That's Spanish.”