31. Shame

Luca's POV

I tried to stop her, but she was too fast—and I wasn’t about to chase her down the hall with my robe barely holding together.

By now, she was probably in her room, the door slammed and locked. No point trying to fix anything tonight.

I sighed, tightening the belt of my robe like a man trying to put his life together—but some things can’t be tied up that easily. 

I stayed on the bed in my room, the silence creeping in as I stood there, thinking about what the hell just happened.

I had ruined it. Completely.

Calling her Alexa? How did that even come out of my mouth? 

It wasn't like I planned it. It just… happened. 

One second I was lost in how she felt, how soft and eager she was—then suddenly, the wrong name left my mouth. And now I was sitting out here, like an idiot.

But it wasn’t only me. She reminded me of Alexa. And that was the truth.

Especially when she started sucking me—she's never done that before.

The way she touched my balls, her mouth soft and new, unsure but bold—it took me back to Alexa. That was her thing. 

Alexa used to love teasing me there. She used to say it gave her control, made me weak to her pleasure. And she wasn’t wrong.

So yeah, it brought back memories. And that’s not my fault.

I sat on the edge of the bed, running my hands through my hair. But thinking about it now made things worse. 

My body reacted even though my mind was still upset. My member was hard again. Great.

I leaned back and closed my eyes, letting the images come. I didn’t even try to stop them.

In my head, Alexa wasn’t dead. She came back. She stood in front of me, crying, begging for me to forgive her. Said it was Alejandro’s fault, that he forced her to go. 

That he used what happened—us trying to kill him—to make her believe she had no choice. That she was trying to protect me.

Then, somehow, Maria was there too. She saw Alexa and turned to leave me. But Alexa stopped her. Told her I needed both of them. That we could make it work. That we didn’t have to fight.

And just like that, I had them both.

Alexa kissed Maria gently, running her hands along her face. “You’re beautiful,” she whispered to her, like she always whispered to me. I could see Maria relaxing under her touch. Her lips parted, breathing soft.

I sat on the bed, watching, then joined in. 

I pulled Maria down, laying her between us. She looked nervous but excited. I kissed her neck, then moved down, pushing her thighs apart slowly, looking up at her as I kissed her there. 

Her soft moan filled the air, her hands grabbing at the sheets.

I squeezed her breasts, feeling her tremble beneath me. My fingers worked gently on her clit, teasing her until she moaned louder.

She always did that—always that soft sound that made me want to hear more.

While I was doing that, Alexa was between my legs, her tongue working around my balls, slow and hot, the way I liked. I reached down, running my fingers through her hair while she sucked on me.

It was everything at once. Maria shaking under my face and hand, Alexa taking her time with me. My body tense, close, wanting to explode.

And then I did.

Not in the dream. In real life.

I jerked forward, surprised by how fast and hard it happened. I looked down, panting, feeling the sticky mess in my hands.

“Damn,” I muttered, standing up quickly.

I walked to the bathroom, washed my hands off, and cleaned up. I splashed cold water on my face, breathing heavy.

Then I looked up.

The mirror didn’t lie. My reflection stared back at me—messy hair, tired eyes, shame.

What was I doing?

Masturbating like a teenage boy in the middle of the day because I said the wrong name to the wrong girl?

Fantasizing about a woman who’s dead? 

That wasn’t just low—it was pathetic.

I leaned over the sink, gripping the sides tight. Alexa was gone. No fantasy would bring her back. 

And even if she wasn’t, that dream? That thing with Maria and Alexa? That could never happen. Maria wasn’t that kind of girl. She wasn’t someone to be shared or played with.

She was real.

And I just hurt her.

I closed my eyes, letting the cold water run again, trying to feel something clean. But it didn’t work.

This wasn’t about Alexa anymore. This was about me, and how I didn’t know how to let go of the past without ruining the present.

I should’ve just focused on Maria. She was trying, giving me something she’s never given anyone. And I ruined it. Not because I don’t care. But because maybe… maybe I care too much. And I’m scared.

Scared I might lose her like I lost Alexa.

I dried myself off and put on my robe. I walked back into the room, quiet. I walked to the edge of my bed and sat down, elbows on my knees, my hands hanging useless between them.

It wasn’t even night yet, but it felt like the day had ended.

The room was quiet. No voices. No footsteps. Just the sound of my own shame crawling all over me.

I leaned forward, staring at the floor like it could give me answers. I didn’t even know what I was waiting for. Courage to go apologise to Maria or perhaps a knock from Maria? Something to fix it all?

But nothing came.

Just me. Sitting there. Still in my robe. Still feeling shameful.

And still thinking about a woman who's gone... while I'm sure the one who’s here won't even look at me.