Page 3 of Shattered King

Fiorella

H e kisses me back, and I throw myself against him.

My knee hurts. Our teeth click together. His tongue slides possessively into my mouth, and I whimper against him, pulse hammering in my chest. This is dumb, this is stupid; I’m making just about every mistake a girl can possibly make over a near-death experience.

And I still don’t care.

He stands abruptly, dragging me to my feet. I gasp for breath and pull back, staring into his face for one brief moment.

“Are you sure?” I ask him, not even positive what I mean. Sure he wants this? Sure this is a good idea? My head’s not working properly, and I don’t know how to fix it, or if I even want to.

He reaches behind me and shoves the papers and a keyboard off his desk.

His only reply is another blistering kiss, this one slower but equally intense, a molten river of passion flowing straight into my core.

He lifts me up and sits me down, and my legs wrap around his hips as he presses himself against me, mouth devouring mine.

His taste floods me: whiskey, mint, and chewing gum. He smells spicy and musky, a little drying sweat, a little soft cologne. His lips are heaven as they move on mine, his wet tongue sliding along my own, his hands exploring my body.

I’m out of control, and I decide not to hold back. This is happening, and I don’t care if it’s a massive mistake. I’ve never done anything like this before, not so suddenly, not with a total stranger, and if I stop to think about it too much, then I won’t get what I really want.

I pull away for one brief moment and rip my shirt off my head.

His eyes widen in appreciation as he looks at my body.

“You were hiding from me,” he murmurs as he kisses my neck, lips moving down to my breasts. He reaches back and easily unhooks my bra. I let it fall off and toss it onto the floor.

“Less talking.” I grab his hair and yank him toward my face. “More kissing.”

He growls and smirks as he smothers me again.

This man kisses like a demon. Like there’s only one way to paradise, and it’s straight through me.

I let myself drift into him deeper and deeper, getting carried off on a wave of pure animal lust. My core’s a pulse of need need need and I’m so wet it’s obscene.

His fist grips my hair and pulls me back roughly before kissing my breasts and sucking my pink, stiff nipples.

God, that feels so good.

I reach forward and start fumbling at his belt.

When he tries to help, I slap him away. He grins and yanks my hair in return.

I get the belt undone and roughly open his fly, gasping as he pulls harder and crushes my mouth in a blistering kiss.

I reach down his slacks and stroke his cock, my eyes popping open as I feel the full length of him.

He’s huge.

And not just big, but so hard. Almost throbbing in my hand.

I stroke him faster, eager, desperate, whimpering into his intense kiss.

He reaches down and unbuttons my jeans, and when I lift my hips to let him slide them off, I knock more stuff onto the floor.

Papers flutter and scatter. Pens bounce into a corner.

But Luca keeps staring at me like he’s unwrapping a present.

He licks his lips and takes off his pants as he removes mine before coming back at me.

We slam together. Greedy and stupid. I stroke him faster as he teases my pussy, one hand shoved down the front of my panties.

I gasp when he moves his fingers around my clit, grinding my hips closer, spreading my legs wider.

Eager and needy for more pleasure. “Fuck me,” I moan, and it’s almost like someone else is speaking through my mouth.

I’ve never said those words out loud in my entire life. “Please, just fuck me.”

He gets my panties off, kissing me, lavishing my body with his mouth, licking my nipples and teasing my neck, until I’m totally naked for him, stripped bare and glistening in the overhead lights.

I moan as he glides his enormous cock up and down my slit, soaking himself in my juices before pressing his tip against me.

“Say please,” he whispers.

And fuck, that does it.

Normally, I’d tell him to go to hell, but it’s the way he’s looking at me. It’s all domination and sin. There’s no way I can deny this man right now. I’d get down on my knees and beg if it means him filling me to the core with that enormous, beautiful dick of his.

“Please, fuck me,” I moan.

And that’s all it takes.

He grips my hip with his left hand, his right tangled in my hair, and he slides himself deep inside.

Oh, fuck.

My god.

It splits me in half. Slowly he glides deeper and deeper, to the point where I feel like he has to stop, but there’s more.

All the way to the hilt, and he’s buried in me, big and hard and hot, like a melting iron rod.

Then he’s sliding back and pumping forward, and I pull him down to kiss me because if he doesn’t, I’m going to scream.

He takes me like that. He fucks me brainless. “More, please, Luca, fuck me, I need more .” I can’t believe these words are spilling from my lips, but based on the way he’s looking at me, I think he loves it.

“You’re fucking beautiful, baby,” he says, stroking harder and harder.

The desk rattles against the concrete floor.

I’m so far past caring if anyone can hear.

“Hiding under all that grease and those baggy clothes. You’re built from diamonds.

Look at you.” He strokes deeper, one hand on my breast, tongue licking my nipple.

“Don’t stop,” I beg, arching into him, so close and ready to explode. “Just don’t you dare stop.”

He growls into my mouth, pressing his forehead against mine, fucking me at a fast and hard rhythm. My eyelids flutter, and the pressure is right at the tipping point.

“You want to come, baby?” he says, biting my lower lip. “Say please again. Tell me you’re my bad girl. And then I’ll let you get my cock all messy.”

Oh, shit.

“Please,” I whimper.

“Tell me you’re bad. Tell me you want to get my cock all messy. Say it, Fiorella. Tell me you’re a filthy fucking girl.”

“I want to get you all messy. Oh my god, I’m a bad girl for you. Just keep going.”

“That’s my girl,” he says, and with one stroke, I’m gone.

I burst on him. I break and shatter and come like an explosion.

I lean into him, wrapping my arms around his neck as he pumps into me faster and faster, my body turning to mush and my brain melting along with it.

I come harder than I’ve ever come in my life, little black spots forming at the edge of my vision, and I think he likes it too.

Because he lets out a sputtering roar as he plants himself inside me, his warmth spilling over and filling me to the brim.

We come down slowly. I’m gasping for air.

I left grease marks from my dirty hands on his sculpted, muscular chest. I don’t even know when his shirt came off.

He’s looking at me like he just found a million dollars lying in the gutter.

Like I’m the most precious thing he’s ever seen but didn’t know existed.

He slides himself out of me, and I feel weirdly empty.

Then reality comes crashing down.

I just fucked a complete stranger.

He did save my life, but still. I don’t do casual sex. I barely do sex at all. He’s the second guy I’ve been with in my entire life, and I just said some depraved and filthy things without even thinking about it.

I told him I want to be messy for him.

Oh my god.

“That was, uh, I mean, I didn’t think—” I’m stammering, trying to form a coherent sentence, but my head’s still buzzing with pleasure. “Thanks?”

What the hell is wrong with me?

Did I seriously just thank him?

I expect him to get the hell away from me like I’m made from toxic waste, but instead, he bends down and lightly kisses me. He strokes my hair, flattening the flyaways.

“You’re something special, Fiorella Serrano.”

“Easy for you to say since you just had sex with me.” I lean my palm against his chest, thinking I’ll shove him back. But I don’t want him to move away. Not yet at least. My armor is still thrown aside and broken from the sudden trauma of earlier, and I feel so vulnerable after what just happened.

If he turns his back on me now, I don’t know how I’ll ever recover.

But he doesn’t. Instead, he gently kisses me again and helps me get dressed. He’s surprisingly tender and confident as he does it. When I’m fully clothed, I gather his things and pull away, arms crossed over my chest to protect myself.

I can still feel him between my legs though, throbbing like a memory.

“I don’t normally do that, you know.” I feel the need to explain and justify. “I mean, I think it’s just, you know, the adrenaline and stuff.”

“I understand.” He buckles his belt and starts on his shirt. “I don’t do that either.”

My eyebrows raise. “Yeah? You don’t? You seemed pretty comfortable with it.”

“Adrenaline.”

“The dirty talk?”

“Also adrenaline.” His lips press together like he’s trying to swallow a smirk. “And I liked the look on your face. Like you were scandalized but also into it.”

“I wasn’t—I mean, I was, but—” I shut my mouth, angry with myself and flustered. I should never have gotten vulnerable with this guy. I swear I’ll never hear the end of it. Not from a guy like Luca.

I know mafia men. I grew up with them. I learned a long time ago to keep my walls firmly in place and to never, ever, ever let them get close.

Because guys like Luca only care about themselves.

That was a hard lesson I’ll never forget.

“I meant what I said, you know.” He finishes dressing and looks at me. “You are something special.”

My cheeks turn bright red. I’m flushed with the sudden urge to throw myself at him and kiss him until his lips bleed.

But there’s a knock at the door. It opens, and the older man from earlier pokes his head inside.

“Luca, got a girl here to see you.” He looks from me down to the mess on the floor and back again. Embarrassment slams into me like a truck. But if he knows what we were just doing, his face doesn’t show it.

“Thanks, Gio. Send her in.”

Gio steps aside, and a bubbly little ball of energy comes rushing into the room. “Fiorella! Oh my god, I was so freaking worried about you!”

Elisa flings herself into the room, her dark ringlets bouncing around her angelic little face, and she slams into me with the energy and power of a Yorkshire Terrier.

“I’m okay, it’s okay, Elisa. It’s all fine.”

She squeezes me with all her strength. “Raffa told me something bad happened, and I rushed here right away to get you. Oh my god, are you hurt? Are you okay?” She pulls back, finally looking at me, then at the room, then back to me again. “What the heck happened in here?”

“Nothing,” I say, grabbing her hand. “Let’s go home, okay? I’m totally fine.”

Elisa’s face scrunches up as I try to pull her away.

“Hold on, were you two fighting? Or wait—” Then my sweet, naive little sister finally understands.

She covers her mouth with her other hand, looking from Luca to me and back again, her eyes going big enough to drive a truck straight through them. “Fiorella!”

“Just let it go,” I hiss at her. “We’ll talk about it later.”

She covers her mouth, laughter racking her chest. “Oh my god. I mean, okay, okay, sure!”

I squeeze her other palm hard enough to move the bones. “Stop it.”

“I’ll stop. I’ll stop!” She pulls away, shaking her hand out with a wicked grin. “God, you’re so strong.”

I drag her to the doorway, seething and burning with embarrassment. I don’t know what the heck came over me back there, but now it’s completely gone. Luca stands beside his desk, totally at ease, looking more amused than anything else.

“It was nice meeting you, Fiorella,” he calls out.

“Thanks for everything,” Elisa answers, grinning madly. “And I mean for everything ?—”

I punch her in the arm. “Enough of that.”

“Owwww, shit, come on,” she groans, still beaming. “Aren’t you at least going to thank the guy who saved your life?”

“No thanks needed,” Luca says, casually beginning to pick the mess off the floor. “The pleasure was all mine.” I swear, the asshole knows exactly what he’s doing right now.

I square my shoulders at him and school my face. I give him nothing—absolutely nothing at all—as I nod my head once.

“Thanks.”

He nods back. “Any time.”

I get the hell out of there. Elisa keeps pace, her chest racked with laughter. The workers ignore us, thankfully, though some of them glance toward my sister. She’s everything I’m not: graceful, beautiful, feminine, light. Any idiot could see how beautiful she is in a small and elfin kind of way.

“Tell me you didn’t, Fio,” she whispers, grabbing my arm. “Tell me it wasn’t what it looked like.”

“We’ll talk later.”

“Fio—”

“Later. Please.” I glare at her, but I can’t stay mad. Not at my little Elisa. My face softens, and I hold her hand again.

“Okay, okay. I’m just happy you’re safe, that’s all.”

“Safe enough now that we’re getting out of here,” I murmur, though I still have Luca’s taste on my lips, and the feeling of him pulsing between my legs is like a tattoo straight onto my brain. I’m not sure when that’s going to finally fade.