Tangled In Strings

Chapter Twenty-Nine

"If I were that man, I'd praise the plump softness of your breasts, which fit perfectly in my hands. I'd explain what they taste like, how your nipple feels when my tongue is rolling around the sweet little nub. I'd explain what it feels like to hold my hand to your chest, knowing it's inches away from the most vital part of you. I'd tell you how badly I want to bend your heart to my will." His hands are traveling lower over my shirt, right over my stomach, and I'm not breathing through my mouth anymore. I can't.

"I'd trace your curves like I'm doing now, mentally memorizing them so I can reminisce on the memories later. I'd never let my lips touch you fully, making you want them more than my own touch...and I'd slip my fingers into your pants."

He does exactly that with the hand that isn't bandaged, effortlessly pushing his way beneath the denim and panties, until he's cupping my mound. My whole body is shaking, partly from nerves, partly from the sultry words leaving his mouth.

"And I'd tell you to spread your legs."

At his command, I do, slightly, coming into consciousness enough that my eyes dart to the people nearby, that might possibly be watching quite a show. But, we're undetected and I could hardly care less when Giovanni's two forefingers slip into the sleekness, tracing my folds with slow caresses.

I bite my lip, but the moan still escapes. Oh fuck.

"Giovanni—"

"I'd tell you how delicious your cunt is. How sweet your come tastes on my tongue, how I love drinking you in. I'd wait, needing to hear the sounds you can't help but make as I tease your clit, rolling my finger over it until you begin to shake."

"Giovanni," I say again. It's the only thing I can think of to say. My chest is crashing, my ribs hurt. I'm making the sounds he wants to hear, proving his point. He can trace me like a well-known map.

"I'd tell you that I all I think about is fucking you. About how tight and warm you are, how I feel when I bury myself in you. How I have to hold back when I catch your jaw strain as I sink in too deep."

His lips haven't touched me, and I've noticed it. My arms begin to leave the railing to touch him.

"On the railing," he reminds, his voice completely firm.

He's proving his point alright. He's coming at me full-force, torturing me with his ease, and I can instantly remember how badly I wanted him to break down back then. How badly I wanted him to lose himself in me, and become ungraceful, desperate to be inside of me.

He is in control right now, as he was when we first met...something he's given me selflessly since then.

And suddenly, all I can think about is his lips. His gasps that come when I grab him tight. His soft, whispered words of love.

He's proved his point.

I really don't want that man. And I don't want to be that woman.

I want mess, and overbearing emotions. I want all of this chaos.

If it means I have him this way, this in love with me, I would never want the man I had.

Giovanni is different, and I love him for it.

As if he can read my mind, he whispers, "Is this what you want? Is this it?"

"No," I breathe, shaking my head. My hand leaves the railing and grasps his forearm, and he doesn't stop me. His teasing stops.

"Tell me what you want, then."

"Tell me you love me," I plead softly, turning my face to the side, to my shoulder. I can hardly get the words out. He just stands there, still, his hand buried beneath my clothes. I gasp at his silence. "Please. Tell me. I like us messy. I do. I need it."

His fingers begin to rub me again, and my knees buckle. My hand leaves his skin to support myself on the railing. It's the only way I'll remain upright. His front conforms to my back, and his free hand covers mine tightly. I release a sound of relief, pure relief and release when I feel his lips against the nape of my neck. They drag up and around toward my chin, and I turn to give him closer access to my mouth, praying he kisses me.

"You're my home," he whispers against my cheek, and instantly, his voice is radiating warmth, devotion—adoration. None that were there a few moments ago.

"Everything I've just said is true. I'm still obsessed, obsessed with your body and your innocence, and your inability to see how beautiful you are," he continues, as my legs begin to close without my consent, my mind losing control of my body. "I still want to fuck you, fuck you and tell you everything I know about your skin. But that isn't what does it for me anymore."

I force my eyes to part, glancing toward the sidewalk.

"No one's watching, Scarlett. It's just you and me."

"Gio."

"I can't be the man I was before with you anymore. I can't restrain, and pretend like you mean less than you do." My heart is swelling, swelling enough to hurt. "Fuck pretenses. Fuck submission, domination, Scarlett. I crave losing myself in you deep enough that I can't breathe, let alone think."

"God," I bite out, as his tongue teases the curve of my throat. I'm nearly there, climbing the ranks of pleasure at a rapid pace, his words driving me home.

"Tell me you want the same," he demands, knowing he's drilled the truth into my brain for good. "Now. Tell me."

I nod, over and over again. "I do. I want this. Always. I want this."

"You know I love you," he finally confesses fast, giving me what I so desperately need. "I love you. I'll say it a thousand times."

His hand leaves mine on the railing and grabs my chin, turning me to him. Our eyes meet for the first time since he's touched me, and his eyes are blazing. Blazing with the words that are still unspoken, words that can come later. For now, he pulls my mouth to him, and devours my lips with brutality, groaning against them.

And I come undone. Just then—I fall helplessly over the edge, gripping the railing as I gasp against him, trying to remain quiet. He must be holding me, but I can't feel my skin. By the time I begin to feel again, both of his hands are gripping my arms tightly enough that I don't stand a chance losing my balance.

I feel the nerves exploding at the tips of my fingers, the very tips of my toes in my shoes.

My eyes glance over to the bench, which is now vacant. The people have disappeared into the night. I close my eyes, and drop my head back into his chest with an exhale. His arms leave mine to button up my pants, make me presentable again.

"So...Scarlett, you were saying—?"

I spin on my heel with a loud playful growl, and jump right into his arms that are ready to catch me.