Page 22 of Unworthy Ties

Gabriella

H ad I ever had any interest in gardening?

No. That was, until I discovered the greenhouse a few weeks ago.

Since then, I had been gardening (poorly) with a fervor I never knew existed within me.

Each morning, I would wander into the warm, inviting space, greeted by the sweet scent of damp earth and blooming flowers.

My fingers, once accustomed to the icy touch of a camera lens, now reveled in the rich soil, delighting in the earthy texture as I dug and planted.

Admittedly, most of the plants were store-bought from a garden store. My attempts at planting seeds had been a haphazard affair—seeds scattered like confetti into the pot, with little regard for spacing or sunlight.

A few days later, I couldn’t resist checking on the little patch where I’d tossed the seeds. Kneeling on the ground, I brushed my fingers against the dirt, half expecting nothing to have survived my chaotic planting.

Then I saw it—a tiny green shoot pushing its way up through the earth, fragile but determined.

My heart did a little flip. “Oh my gosh…” I whispered, leaning closer.

The sight of that single sprout felt like a small miracle, proof that even my messy attempts could yield something alive, something growing.

I crouched there for a few moments, marveling at the tiny green warrior, already imagining what the rest of the garden would look like when it followed suit. My excitement bubbled over, a quiet thrill that made the hard work of planting suddenly feel worthwhile.

“Yes!” I said, jumping up into the air. “Yes, yes, yes!”

Within seconds, Rocco’s burst into the greenhouse. “Are you okay?!” he asked, panic on his face. “I heard you screaming.”

“Look at my children! Well… child.”

Rocco’s brows furrowed in confusion as he followed my enthusiastic pointing. His eyes widened at the sight of the delicate sprout. “You did that?” he asked incredulously, a smile creeping across his face.

“I know, right?” I beamed, my heart dancing with pride.

He knelt down, reaching out with gentle fingers to touch the fragile green shoot. “Just look at how resilient it is,” he said. “You might have a green thumb after all!”

“Probably just beginner’s luck,” I teased, though I couldn’t hide the pride in my voice.

Rocco looked up at me, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “You know, if you keep this little one alive, we should celebrate. Tea in the garden, maybe?”

I laughed, shaking my head. “Tea in the garden? Are we trying to be proper Brits now, or is this your attempt at convincing me to drink something weak and fancy?”

Rocco grinned, leaning a little closer, with a mischievous spark in his eyes. “Maybe a bit of both. But don’t worry; I’ll make sure it’s strong enough to survive your beginner’s luck.”

My chest warmed at the teasing, and I couldn’t help but smile. “Deal,” I said, feeling the excitement bubble up again.

He reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair from my face. “Then it’s a date,” he murmured, voice low, the quiet promise in it making my heart skip.

His fingers lingered a moment longer, and then he paused, frowning slightly. “You have a bit of dirt in your hair. A lot of dirt, actually.”

“Gardening is messy business,” I replied, trying to shake the soil out of my hair.

“Messy, huh? Well… I think a shower might be the only way to get all of that off properly.”

“You’re right,” I responded, not catching on to his suggestion at first.

He stepped closer, voice low, just above a whisper. “It’ll be quicker if we do it together. And… maybe a little more enjoyable.”

“Together…?” I repeated, a flush creeping up my face.

Yes, Rocco and I had been intimate, but he had never seen me naked outside of sex before. My heart raced, a mixture of surprise and something deeper igniting within me.

Rocco’s jaw tightened slightly, his gaze never leaving mine. “Yes. You. Me. Quick, efficient… and I’ll make sure you don’t get a single strand of dirt left behind.”

I subconsciously rubbed my thighs together as the warmth of his gaze settled over me, exhilaration coursing through my veins.

I stepped closer to him, my mouth watering slightly at the thought of his mouth on mine, my desires for the two of them meeting once again raging through my body like a wildfire. “Alright,” I whispered, my voice hoarse with need. “Let’s do that.”

Rocco smiled slowly, his eyes full of hunger and promise. “Follow me,” he said softly, turning and walking towards the door that led to the bathroom. The moment we entered the room, he closed the door behind us, locking it with a decisive click.

He walked over to the shower and turned on the faucet, letting the warm water run freely into the large stall.

I lingered at the edge of the shower, the steam curling around us like a soft veil. The warmth hit my skin, making my pulse race, and I couldn’t help but glance at him, watching the way the water caught the light on his shoulders.

Rocco turned, eyes dark with intent, his expression unreadable but charged with something dangerous and irresistible. “Step in,” he murmured, voice low and steady, yet carrying that unmistakable weight that made my chest tighten.

I obeyed, letting the heat of the water wash over me, the scent of him filling the small space. He moved behind me, hands brushing my shoulders, his touch firm but careful, and a shiver ran down my spine.

“Relax,” he whispered, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. “I’ve got you.”

Even in the simple act of standing under warm water, with Rocco so close, I felt the world shrink to just the two of us.

His soap-slicked fingers massaged the dirt from my skin, working their way down my back, his hot breath tickling my neck.

My body ached with want, the anticipation of what would come next tearing through me like a wildfire.

The desire in those few moments felt almost primal, our connection undeniable, our chemistry off the charts. And as Rocco’s hands slid lower, cupping my behind and pressing me closer against his hardness, I knew that this was only the beginning.

Rocco’s lips brushed along my shoulder, his low growl vibrating against me, and I trembled at the intensity of it. I tilted my head back, catching a glimpse of his eyes, dark and hungry, and the ache between my thighs grew more.

His fingers traced a deliberate path downward, each inch of my stomach burning under his unhurried touch. The ache between my thighs grew as he inched closer until I was sure it was an inferno.

When his fingers finally brushed against my entrance, I nearly gasped, the heat searing through me like a razor-sharp blade. Rocco chuckled darkly, low and husky, against the shell of my ear.

“You’re so cute,” he murmured, voice thick with desire. And then he was pushing two fingers inside of me, filling me slowly but steadily, his other hand still gripping my ass.

The sensation was electric and overwhelming, sending shivers down my spine. I tried to speak, but the words caught in my throat as he moved his fingers within me.

It never took long for Rocco to have me on the edge of an orgasm. I felt the pleasure bloom, and I leaned my head against his chest as I waited for the crest to hit me. When he withdrew his fingers, I let out a choked cry, my knees almost buckling.

He turned me around to face him, his chest heaving with the effort of control. And then his lips were on mine. Rocco groaned into the kiss, his tongue dancing with mine as one of his hands slid down to stroke between my legs.

I cried out against his lips, my hips bucking into his touch as he found my clit and teased it expertly. I couldn’t stand anymore; I needed more.

“Rocco,” I moaned against his mouth, arching into his touch. He growled low in his throat, his free hand sliding up to cup my breast.

Without further warning, he picked me up, water dripping down our bodies as he moved us to the slick tile wall. His fingers never slowed their rhythm as he pressed me against the cool surface.

I could feel him pressing against my mound, a clear sign of how desperately he wanted this. And then he was pushing inside of me, filling me in one deep thrust.

His lips found my neck, teeth nipping softly as he moved, each slow thrust sending shivers of pleasure through me. His hips pumped steadily against mine, our skin slick with water and sweat, making every touch a violent collision of sensation.

The sound of our combined breathing filled the room with an almost primal intensity as Rocco buried himself deeper and deeper within me with each slow thrust. My nails dug into his shoulders as I tried to hold on to something solid in this storm of pleasure coursing through me.

The intensity built within me once again; the pressure mounting until I felt like I was going to combust. Rocco’s thrusts grew faster, harder, his mouth moving down my neck and nipping at my shoulder blade.

“Rocco,” I whispered, voice hoarse and pleading. And then he was there, his rough hands gripping my hips as he found that spot that made me see stars.

“Yes,” he groaned against my skin, a barely there rumble that sent shivers down my spine. “You feel so good.”

I cried out as the pleasure ripped through me, clinging to him as if he were my lifeline. He followed me over the edge, his body tensing as he painted my insides white.

Our bodies trembled together, our breathing ragged. Rocco pulled out slowly, his cock slipping from inside of me with a wet pop. His hands ran roughly down my back before pulling me into his embrace.

As we stood there in the dimly lit bathroom, the air heavy with the remnants of our passion, I could feel my heart racing in sync with his. Rocco held me close, his embrace both comforting and possessive, as if he never wanted to let me go.

“I can’t get enough of you,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with raw desire. His words sent a thrill through me, knowing that I had this effect on him.

As we held each other in the aftermath of our passion, a sense of contentment washed over me, knowing that in Rocco’s arms, I had found a kind of home I never knew I was searching for.