Page 13 of Sexted By a Stranger

Sheila

Luca's fingertips landed on my lower back, burning through the thin silk, sending numbness up my spine.

"Here." His low voice sounded behind my ear. "Sink down—back straight. Don't turn yourself into a wooden board."

I took a deep breath, relaxing my tense shoulder blades.

His shoe tip lightly touched my heel.

"Distance." His voice was concise and powerful. "Too close looks obsequious; too far loses propriety. Now—perfect."

He circled to face me, one step away.

"Look at me, Sheila."

I raised my head, colliding with those deep eyes.

"Stand straight, shoulders relaxed, gaze level." He enunciated each word. "The people arriving tonight—no matter how illustrious their surnames or staggering their wealth—none deserve your lowered gaze."

My heart slammed like a bell in my chest. I slowly inhaled, lifting my chin to an elegant angle.

Approval flashed through Luca's eyes.

"Good." He stepped back. "Now, a gentleman stands before you. Respond with perfect etiquette."

With that, he leaned against the desk edge, long legs crossed, gaze looking down from above, instantly switching from strict instructor to arrogant guest.

"Begin, Miss Stella."

I adjusted my posture and spoke:

"Good evening, sir." I met his scrutinizing gaze frankly, a smile playing at my lips.

Luca didn't respond immediately. He lowered his eyes, leisurely adjusting his cufflinks, the gesture like appraising a newly acquired artwork—critical yet composed.

Moments later, he looked up, his drawn-out tone carrying lazy sharpness.

"Miss Stella," he deliberately paused, lips curving in an ambiguous smile, "finally able to appreciate Mr. Bellomo's most distinctive ornament up close tonight.

" His gaze slowly traveled down from my shoulder line.

"I must say, Mr. Bellomo's taste is indeed exceptional.

You're like a carefully polished gem, brilliant enough to make any light feel ashamed. "

I met his scrutiny, voice soft yet carrying calm penetration. "Thank you for the compliment. To catch Mr. Bellomo's eye is my honor."

I paused slightly, the curve of my lips unchanged. "However, a true gem that merely reflects light to please the eye would be rather shallow. Its value lies in being unique, with irreplaceable inner qualities, unmistakable color, and—"

I slightly emphasized, "refusing to become any setting's accessory."

I looked up, gaze clashing with his, smile composed.

"Otherwise, no matter how gorgeous the display, it only shows momentary brilliance. True connoisseurs quickly tire of such fleeting ostentation. Don't you agree, sir?"

The air seemed to freeze for an instant.

Luca slowly straightened, leaving his leaning position against the desk. His tall figure's oppressive presence suddenly intensified. He didn't answer my question but walked to stand before me, close enough that I could clearly smell the intertwined scent of cigars and wood on him.

"Very good." Luca's voice dropped low, returning to his usual powerful aura of absolute control, eyes and tone full of appreciation.

He leaned down slightly, gaze burning as if to penetrate my eyes straight to my soul. "Sheila, remember," his words carried undeniable weight, "you must let them witness firsthand how exceptional the person standing beside Luca Bellomo is."

"Naturally, Mr. Bellomo. My presence itself is the answer."

The banquet hall blazed with light, crystal chandeliers refracting countless tiny points.

The air floated with perfume, tobacco, and fine cuisine—sweet and stifling.

On exquisitely made-up faces hung precisely curved, appropriate smiles, while mouths uttered naked comparisons, carefully woven probes, and barbs hidden in silk.

I wore an extremely simple black satin gown without any excess decoration. Luca's hand rested steadily on my lower back, guiding me through the crowd.

People automatically parted, respectfully calling "Mr. Bellomo," approaching with obsequious smiles to exchange pleasantries.

"Unbelievable," a slick-haired, refined man approached, words directed at Luca while his frivolous gaze lingered stickily on my neck, "Mr. Bellomo's companion this time is so unique."

I frowned instinctively. Luca ignored him completely, turning with me in his arms. Lennox, following closely, stepped forward half a pace imperceptibly, perfectly blocking the man's view. With an impeccable smile, he handled him in a few words.

Moments later, I excused myself to the washroom. The instant I locked the stall door, about to breathe a sigh of relief, I heard women whispering outside.

"Heard she used to be a stripper in Celestial? Mr. Bellomo's taste has really gone common this time."

"Has any of Luca's companions lasted three months? I bet she's out this month."

"Pretty face, but even expensive dresses can't hide that cheap vibe. Connor's people say she couldn't even serve drinks properly before."

I clenched my fists, nails nearly embedding in my palms.

I knew my gap with Luca clearly, but who said chasms couldn't be bridged?

The voices outside dispersed. I returned to the hall. Luca was conversing with someone.

I'd barely moved forward when a streak of crimson blocked my path—a woman in a fire-red low-cut gown, with cascading curls and scarlet lips, like a dangerous flame.

She swirled her champagne, voice not loud but clear enough for half the surrounding circle to hear perfectly. "Well, well, look who it is? The stripper from Celestial—did you really think borrowing a haute couture gown would turn you into a noble lady??"

She sneered, gaze like a blade scraping from top to bottom. "Can't even hold a wine glass properly, right? This outfit on you is simply a waste of fabric."

She leaned close, enunciating each word. "Cinderella stories are just fairy tales. You don't deserve to stand beside him."

Humiliation, anger, and the mortification of being publicly stripped bare drowned me like a tide.

A scorching flame rose from my heart. I lifted my chin slightly, about to retort.

"Avery."

Luca's arm circled my waist, pulling me back without question, protectively enclosing me in the shelter of his tall frame.

"I warned you," his voice wasn't loud but carried suffocating pressure that made everyone around hold their breath, "watch your mouth. Seems you've turned a deaf ear to my words."

Avery's arrogant flames instantly froze, undisguised fear flashing through her eyes, lips trembling. "Luca, I was just—"

"She's with me." Luca cut her off decisively, each word clear, penetrating every pricked ear. "One more word, Avery, and I'll make you wish you were mute. Get lost."

Avery swayed, blood draining from her face. She shot me a venomous glare but hastily lowered her head when meeting Luca's cold gaze, stumbling away in her heels, disappearing wretchedly into the crowd.

The air seemed to flow again. Those prying gazes quietly retreated, becoming cautious and evasive. Luca's arm around my waist not only didn't loosen but tightened further. He lowered his head, warm breath brushing my hair, voice low. "It's alright, Sheila."

Luca casually took two glasses filled with deep ruby liquid, handing one to me. The crystal walls refracted enticing light.

"Have a drink to calm your nerves."

I took the glass and sipped.

A cold berry tartness instantly exploded on my tongue, followed by a pungent, almost antiseptic burn shooting up my nose.

My brows scrunched violently, my whole face unconsciously crumpling. "This tastes like disinfectant!"

God. What was I saying? At a dinner party like this, about wine from a top vineyard.

Embarrassment instantly drowned me, cheeks burning.

But a brief breath of laughter sounded by my ear.

Luca looked at me, lips irrepressibly curving up, eyes full of amused delight.

"Then don't drink it." He placed the glass back on the server's tray.

With a slight gesture, a server approached with two glasses of soft pink-gold wine.

I sipped again—sweet, light, like early summer cherries just burst.

The whole glass slid down my throat, warmth slowly rising after. Cheeks simmered on low heat, blood beginning to swirl lazily. The crystal chandelier's halo spread in layers, and even Luca's outline gained soft edges.

His voice pressed against my ear, drilling in but sticking mushily in my brain, impossible to untangle.

The marble floor suddenly lost its hardness. My fingertips unconsciously hooked his suit sleeve.

Luca looked down, fingertips brushing aside a strand of hair dampened by fine sweat on my cheek, movements gentle.

"Drunk already?"

I nodded honestly, feeling my head grow heavier.

The next second, he'd already wrapped his arm around me, guiding me through the perfumed crowd.

"Hold on, we're going home."

The night breeze outside was cool. I greedily took a deep breath, slightly dispersing the burning in my cheeks and mental fog.

Luca protected my head, carefully settling me into the spacious passenger seat. The seat's softness and leather's cool touch made me sigh in comfort.

The car was quiet, Luca's familiar, reassuring scent permeating beside me.

I turned to look at him. Flowing lights and shadows outside flickered across his sharply defined profile, outlining his high nose and tightly pressed lip line. He wasn't looking at me, but that calm profile inexplicably added allure.

I licked my dry lips. I could clearly hear my increasingly rapid heartbeat, thump-thump-thump, powerfully drumming.

Perhaps seeing my movement, Luca suddenly pulled over.

He unbuckled his seatbelt, his tall frame leaning over me. Shadow instantly enveloped me. One strong arm braced against the seat back beside me, the other hand gently caught my chin, forcing me to lift my head to meet his bottomless gaze.

His face was so close I could count his thick lashes, see the naked desire churning in the depths of his eyes.

"Stellina," He called my name low, breath brushing my lips. "You're very brave, and very tempting."

Watching his approaching lips, the secret desire in my heart broke through. I didn't dodge but met him instead.

Lips touching, his were warm and dry with a faint wine fragrance. He gently rubbed against mine, like a feather's sweep, igniting tiny sparks.

He seemed dissatisfied with this superficial intimacy, prying open my teeth and delving deep inside.

His kiss carried a forceful rhythm, like flames sweeping through, completely igniting my inner desire.

I responded passionately, trying to follow his rhythm but being led by his greater skill.

The air turned scorching and thin. His arms tightened, circling my waist, pulling me against his solid chest.

He alternately sucked my lips, drawing soft moans from my throat. My hands climbed his shoulders, tightly grasping his shirt.

His palm explored beneath my dress, slowly moving up my waist, gently caressing the skin there. Feeling my trembling, hearing my soft moans, he satisfactorily left that tender skin, moving upward to stop at my chest. He pushed aside the last concealment, fingertips gently tracing over the peak.

"Luca..." I couldn't help voicing, but he sealed my lips. His entire hand grasped one of my breasts, kneading gently and slowly, yet causing me to moan continuously as waves of heat surged below.

I wanted him so much.

Sensing my rapid breathing, he pulled back slightly, forehead against mine, noses touching, breaths mingling.

His eyes were deep as night, churning with unfinished desire, locking onto my gaze.

Just as his palm was about to wander again—

The abrupt rapping suddenly shattered the small car's atmosphere.

I jerked back, burning face burying directly into Luca's chest, almost wanting to burrow into his suit.

His movements instantly froze. The dark fire churning in his eyes was suppressed. He turned his head, lowering the window a crack.

The traffic officer's expressionless face pointed at the no-parking sign, then waved his citation pad. "Sir, no parking allowed here."

Luca's jaw tensed into a sharp line, but he didn't explode.

He raised his hand, tapping his side window, signaling for the ticket.

The officer paused half a second but still tore off the ticket, circling to the driver's side to stick it on efficiently.

Luca leaned back in his seat, glancing at me sideways, lips curving in a barely-there arc. "What are you afraid of?"

His fingertip landed below my earlobe, gently rubbing, bringing tiny shivers. "Shall we continue?"

I buried my face in my palms, voice so muffled it was barely audible. "Let's go home."

What a mess.

At my apartment building, Luca got out first, circling to open my door. The last traces of intimate warmth dissipated from the car, also clearing my foggy mind considerably.

Luca naturally wrapped his arm around my waist, leading me toward the stairwell and up.

Pushing open the door, familiar scents hit me, instantly wrapping around me—including the sweet fragrance of apple pie, like gentle hands softly pulling me back from the clamorous world to reality.

Turning on the small wall lamp in the living room, the warm yellow light spread. Two slices of apple pie sat quietly on the dining table. Mom must have come back, taken the other two slices, and specifically heated up my late-night snack.

Luca followed in, casually closing the door. He didn't sit immediately, his gaze sweeping over those two steaming apple pies.

"You made these?" he asked.

"Yep." I nodded, kicking off my heels to walk barefoot on the cool floor toward the kitchen. "Leon wanted some. There's milk in the fridge. Want some? Or coffee?"

"May I try it?" He walked straight to the dining table.

"Of course." I passed him utensils.

He took them, cutting a small piece of still-warm pie and placing it in his mouth.

"It's great."

With that, he forked a chunk, bringing it to my lips.

The alcohol hadn't fully worn off. The taut nerves and emotional upheaval from the banquet finally found an outlet in this reassuring quiet, in the warm food aromas.

I leaned back on the sofa, closing my eyes to rest. My eyelids grew heavier and heavier, like lead weights, my body soft and strengthless.

I didn't even notice when or how I leaned over, only feeling my body unconsciously seeking warmth, softly tilting toward that solid, warm "wall" beside me.

My forehead pressed against his crisp suit fabric, feeling the steady strength transmitted through his firm muscles, and that calm, powerful heartbeat.

Thump-thump, thump-thump—a reassuring rhythm.

In the last moment of floating consciousness, my body suddenly lightened, lifted by a pair of strong arms.

"Buonanotte, la mia stellina."

That low voice seemed to come from far away, carrying hypnotic magic, completely drawing me into dreams.