Lorenzo (Chicago Ruthless, #3)

by Sadie Kincaid

“You sure about that?” Oh. My. God. My body will explode if he doesn’t let me come soon. “It f-feels too …” I draw in a sharp breath and let it out on a wail. “I don’t feel in control,” I whimper as my eyes flutter closed. “Look at me, Mia,” he commands, his tone so deep and authoritative that it makes the hairs on my body stand on end. I have no choice but to obey.

“You don’t have to be in control here because I am. I’ve got you, sunshine. Nothing bad is going to happen when I have my hands on you. Understand?”

“So, relax and give me everything you’ve got, tesoro.”

“I-I c-can’t … hold on.” “So let go,” he orders. “Let go and come for me.” Resting my head on the ladder, I arch my back and press the soles of my feet against the metal handrails as an orgasm even more intense than the last one—more intense than anything the world has ever seen—crashes through me like a freight train. I cum so much that I’m sure I drench us both. Every cell in my body trembles with the force of my release, and the wicked devil with those magic hands finger fucks me through it, grunting his appreciation as he does. “Did I …?” I gasp when I can find my voice again. “You sure did. You’ve soaked my goddamn pants.” “Wow!” I pant. I squirted. And it was definitely not pee. He gently slides his fingers out of me. “Told you.”

“Can you untie me now?” A smirk plays across his lips as he unzips his pants. “No.”

she whimpers—desperate for more even after what I just did to her. I could train her so well … Except I no longer do that.

I place the tip of my cock at her dripping entrance, and she sucks in a breath that makes her beautiful tits shudder. I take in every perfect curve of her body. So helpless and in need of a good fucking. My balls draw up into my stomach at the thought of sinking all the way inside her wet cunt. She cries out as I give her a little more, and I relish the sight of her stretched wide around me. Cupping her juicy ass with one hand, I give her more, making her thighs tremble. I dust the tips of my middle and pointer fingers over her swollen clit, and she keens, her body bucking on the ladder but pinned in place. So fucking beautiful. So fucking desperate for my cock. “P-please?” she begs,

Her pussy squeezes around me, hugging my dick as she coats me in her slick, silky juices. “Holy fuck!” “Oh, god,” she pants, her gorgeous tits heaving with every breath. I wrap my free hand around her slender throat, squeezing just enough that she can feel the pressure on her windpipe but not enough to hinder her breathing, which is as fast and ragged as my own. I pull out and sink back into her again, overcome with the sweet relief of being buried deep inside her. Tears run down her face, and her pussy grips my cock like a vise. I’m so close to losing myself in her sweet scent and her tight, wet heat. I’m so close to losing myself in her. My sunshine—burning me up from the inside out. “Oh, Loren—” The rest of my name is cut off by her cries of pleasure as she’s taken under the wave of another orgasm.

When I finally look up, she has the sweetest smile on her face, as though I haven’t just tied her up and fucked her relentlessly. “You okay?” I work to free her feet from the handrails. She winces as I do, stretching out her legs and rolling her ankles. “Mia?” I ask softly. “Okay is not a word I’d use to describe how I feel right now, Lorenzo,” she says with a soft laugh. “So what is?” I reach behind her to untie her wrists. “Umm.” She presses her lips together, deep in thought. “I can’t even …” She shakes her head. “That was incredible. I feel like I could sleep forever and run a marathon all at the same time.”

“You’re not in any pain?” “I ache.” She sighs dreamily. “But no, I’m not in any pain.”

She pulls off her torn dress and places it on the ladder behind her before sliding my shirt over her arms. Something about her wearing my clothes makes a primal instinct take hold, but I shake it off. She’s not mine. This is just sex. Mind-blowing sex, but just sex. She arches an eyebrow. “You in your pants and me in your shirt? People will know.” “The only people who matter probably already know,” I remind her. She smiles wider. “I guess that’s true. But actually I have some work to finish up here first.” “So do I. I did actually come in here to work before you distracted me with this ass.” I squeeze it for emphasis.

A couple of hours later, I lie back with Mia’s body draped over me, completely spent and satisfied. She made good on her blowjob promise, and I fucked her twice as a reward. I don’t want to get up, but I always leave after she falls asleep. Sleeping in the same bed would make this feel like something more than it is. Something more than sex, which is all it can ever be.

“Tell me about being a Dom,” she says, taking me completely by surprise. “What?” “You were a Dom, right? Are a Dom?” “I was. Not anymore.” She lifts her head, the spot between her eyes pinched in a frown. “How does that work?” “How does what work?”

“You were a Dom but now you’re not? I just assumed if you were into that, it would always be your thing,” she says with a shrug. “I was Anya’s Dom. I won’t ever be anyone else’s.” Hopefully that’s enough to shut down the conversation. “So, you never had other submissives before her?” she presses. I close my eyes and lick my lips, trying to stem the annoyance bubbling inside me. “Yes, I had other submissives.” Her frown deepens. “So, you’re a Dom, not just Anya’s Dom.” “I will never be anyone else’s Dom, Mia,” I bark at her. “That part of me died with her.”

“But why?” I swallow a thick knot made of guilt, sadness, and regret. “Because I swore I’d never be that for anyone again. Not after her. That part of my life is over.” She opens her mouth as though to reply but quickly closes it. “What?” I demand, against my better judgment. “I just … I guess that’s all good if it’s something you have no interest in anymore, but if you’re only closing that part of yourself off because you think it’s the right thing to do …” She looks at me with eyes full of pity and I can’t fucking stand it. “Well, that makes me sad for you.”

“Why are we even talking about this?” I ask with a sigh. “Because I was interested. The BDSM lifestyle fascinates me.” It does? She lays her head back down on my chest, snuggling close to me again like I didn’t just berate her. “But if you don’t want to talk about it, that’s okay. I understand.” She yawns loudly, and her breaths even out as she falls asleep.

Gazing down at Mia’s sleeping form, I wish that I could give her more. I push the envelope every damn day with her as it is. Every day I let her in just a little further, let her see more of my shattered soul. Someday soon that’s going to have to stop. Or her heart will end up looking like mine.

Lorenzo walks straight to the piano and takes a seat. It’s getting dark out and I haven’t switched the lights on, but surely he saw me sitting in here. He lifts the lid and his fingers brush reverently over the keys, but he doesn’t play.

“Would you please play for me?” I whisper.

sliding my leg onto his lap, and he stops playing for a second to allow me to straddle him. “Thought you wanted me to play for you, sunshine?” he asks, his voice a deep growl. I roll my hips, lining my pussy up directly along his thick cock, and dust his ear with my lips. “I do, but I’m going to play too.”

tug his boxers down and stroke my fingertips over his smooth, rock-hard length. He misses another note, and I grow braver. Lashing my tongue against a spot on his neck, I wrap my hand around the base of his shaft and squeeze. “Holy fuck!” he growls, his arms and shoulders tense, but the music stays steady. “Your cock is so beautiful,” I purr against him. He misses another note. “So sit on it.” And another. “If that’s what you want.” I fight my base urge and stop short of adding the word Sir.

His eyes burn into mine and my entire body shivers. He looks so tormented. But as I sink down onto him, allowing him to stretch me wide, his mouth goes slack and his eyelids shutter closed. He misses a few more notes, and when he reopens them, they’re full of a different kind of desperation. A kind that mirrors my own. “Mia.” He follows my name with something in Italian, and I imagine they’re words of desire and longing because those emotions pour from him in waves. His fingers clash and clang on the keys before he stops playing altogether. Banding his arms around my waist, he pulls me in tight, burying his face against my neck while I ride him. My pussy walls squeeze him, trying to draw him deeper, but he’s already so far inside me that I feel him everywhere. It’s pleasure bordering on the brink of pain. And when he fists a hand in my hair, pulling my head back so that he can feast on my neck, I whimper and allow him to take full control.

Perhaps I pushed him too far by asking him to play for me. Perhaps it was too soon? I climb off him, tugging my panties back in place. “Can you at least tell me the name of the song?” “Tchaikovsky’s sixth symphony.” The final symphony. “One of history’s most famous goodbyes,” I say quietly. If he hears me, he doesn’t respond.

He should frighten me, but instead he intrigues me. I can’t help but wonder what it would be like to truly belong to him. To be his submissive. Wear his collar and have him own me.

“You’re very distracting, sunshine.”

“Well, it’s so much fun distracting you, Sir,”

“What did you just say?” His tone is full of aggression, and the hairs on the back of my neck bristle. “I j-just … I’m s-sorry, I was playing around.” His lip curls into a snarl. “Do you think my previous lifestyle is some kind of joke, Mia?” “What? No! I just wondered how it would sound.” I wait for his face or his tone to soften, but neither happens. “I told you that part of my life was over. I told you nobody would ever be that for me again.” “I know. I was just reading about it and …” I shake my head. I’m not sure what I expected to happen, but it certainly wasn’t this. He plants his hands flat on the desk. “To call me Sir is a privilege that no one will ever earn again. Nobody. Not even you. This thing between us—whatever you think it is—will end soon. You know that, right?” My lower lip trembles, but I refuse to cry. “Am I making myself clear?” he barks.

“I think it’s time for me to leave.” “What? No!” Kat protests, as I knew she would. “Yes. I’ve loved being here and getting to spend time with you all, but I’m ready to start the next part of my life. Seeing you and Dante so happy and in love makes me want that for me. And I need to branch out on my own if I’m ever going to have the chance to.”

“I have to do this, Kat. I’ll miss you like hell, but I can’t stay here forever. I need to go or I might never want to leave.” I laugh, making a joke of that even though it’s true. Dante regards me warily, and I pray that he doesn’t push me for more details. “Is this about Lorenzo?” Of course Kat’s the one to ask that. “This is about me needing to live my life,”

Am I doing the right thing here? I remember Lorenzo’s harsh words, how he’s been pulling back from me. Yes, this is the right choice. I need to get away from him before he breaks me completely.

“What is it?” I ask him with a sigh. “Did you know Mia wants to leave?” A wave of fresh guilt tinged with intense rage washes over me, stealing the breath from my lungs. I sit up straighter in my chair and take a second to compose myself, hoping my younger brother doesn’t see how much his news affects me. “She what?” His eyes narrow with suspicion as he takes a seat opposite me. “She said it’s time to move on. Asked for a new ID to start fresh.” My hands ball into fists by my sides, and I grind my teeth so hard I figure they’re about to turn into dust. “I figured you must know something about it, seeing as how you and she are so”—he arches an eyebrow—“close.” “I knew nothing about it,” I admit through gritted teeth. “You want me to tell her I can’t do it?”

This is exactly what she wanted, right? To provoke me enough that I’d beg her to stay?

“Is this some kind of punishment?” I ask with a snarl, crossing the room in a few strides until I’m standing so close to her that I can smell that damn sweet scent of hers. Jasmine and lemon. Her forehead wrinkles with confusion. “What?” “You heard what I fucking said, Mia.” She puts her hands on her hips. “I heard you, but I don’t understand what you’re talking about.” “It’s a pretty simple fucking question. You asking Dante to get you a fake identity. Is that payback for what happened yesterday?” “Don’t be ridiculous,” she huffs.

Were you hoping I’d ask you to stay?” Backing up, she scowls. “I need to leave. That’s why I went to Dante.” “If this is truly about you leaving, why not ask me to get you the fake papers?” “You seriously have to ask me that?” Mia scoffs. “I just fucking did, didn’t I?” “Ugh! For a man who’s so intuitive, you’re incredibly blind.” What the fuck is she talking about? “I didn’t ask you because I wouldn’t have been able to go through with it. You would’ve looked at me that way you do and I’d have completely lost my nerve. I had to ask Dante or I never would have done it. I couldn’t have summoned the courage to leave and I need to.” “Why? Because I snapped at you?” “Mother of bananas, give me strength,” she mutters, pinching the bridge of her nose. Why do I feel like I’m missing something here? “Mia!” I shout, frustrated. She flings her arms down by her sides and yells, “I’m leaving because I’m in love with you, Lorenzo.”

She softens her tone. “And I know that you can never love me like that.”

she places her hand on my cheek, and her touch soothes me in a way nothing else ever has. For the first time in two years, the constantly simmering rage dissolves, as though her light traveled through her fingertips and seeped into me, just enough to smooth the edges of my fractured heart and soul. “And I would never ask you to. But if I stay here, I’ll convince myself that I can survive on any scraps of affection you throw my way. Don’t I deserve more than that, Lorenzo?”

“I want the whole package. I want kids and maybe even to get married again one day. I want a man who looks at me like he’d hang the moon if I asked him to. And if I stay here much longer, I’ll never summon the strength to leave and find that for myself.”

“I’m sorry, sunshine.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for. I will never be sad about loving you, Lorenzo Moretti. I’ll never regret a single second that I’ve known you. Just because this is the end of our story doesn’t mean that it has to be all tears and sadness. I’m seeing it as the start of a new adventure. A chance for me to begin again, with a better understanding of myself and the kind of love that I’ve discovered I want.”

“And besides,” she adds as she looks around the library, “I’ve finished sorting through your mom’s things. It seems like the perfect time to move on. I hope it feels less cluttered when you’re working in here now … and I hope you think of me sometimes.”

“I know you think you’re some tough guy with these walls you’ve built, but you’re letting fear hold you back. It takes real bravery to open your heart and start again.” “You think I’m afraid? Of what? You?” “I think you’re afraid of feeling anything for anyone, Lorenzo. Of loving again. But love is always worth the risk. Even if your heart gets broken in the process. What’s the point of living if you won’t let your heart soar?” “I could never love anyone the way that I loved her.” Sorrow clouding her hazel eyes, she shakes her head. “I know you believe that.”

TWO WEEKS LATER

“Who are you?” I answer without looking down. “Amelia Donovan from Phoenix, Arizona.”

I loved Brad once and he destroyed it. He almost destroyed me too. But what I felt for him pales in comparison to what I feel for Lorenzo. To stay here and risk never being loved that way in return makes my heart ache. As much as I love him, I would rather live alone with hope than live a hopeless life with him.

With a heavy heart, I pull open the car door, wishing I’d at least written him a note. The front door of the house opens and he steps outside, dressed in one of his finely tailored suits. Without thought, I run toward him and throw my arms around his neck.

“I’ll miss you, sunshine. Take good care of yourself, okay?” he says, his voice hoarse and shaky.

It hurts to let him go, but he was never really mine to begin with. I press my lips to his ear. “Thank you so much for everything, Lorenzo Moretti, but most of all for making me remember how it feels to be alive.”

I hit play on the stereo, and the first bars of “Bright Side of the Road” fill the car. Singing along, I exit the gates of the Moretti mansion and drive toward my new life, leaving behind the man I foolishly hoped could be my forever.

So, I miss her. It means nothing. She inserted herself into my life from the moment she arrived here—of course I fucking miss her.

I avoided her too. Under the misguided notion that not being around her would make her absence less difficult to bear. None of that helped with the loss I feel today. It hurts just as much as if I’d held her in my arms up to the last second.