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Ruined Secrets: Part 2 – Chapter 15

Isabella

The bedroom door opens, and Luca comes in, carrying a thick folder with a bunch of papers inside.
“You stayed late today,” I say.
“Yeah. And I have homework as well.” He drops the folder and his jacket on the recliner next to the bed and bends down to me. Holding my chin between his fingers, he places a quick kiss on my lips. “What are you reading?”
“Economics.”
He raises his eyebrows. “I’m going to take a quick shower and come join you. We can read our shit on economics together.”
When he disappears into the bathroom, I try to get back to my reading, but my mind keeps wandering back to that quick kiss. So casual. Natural. He called me his wife that morning at the furniture store. In front of Simona. I think it was the first time he’s ever called me that. And it felt so good.
Will everything change when his memories return? Will he go back to his old, detached self? I’ve never thought about myself as a selfish person, but in this moment, I realize I am. Selfish, greedy, and mean. Because somewhere deep inside me, there’s a poisonous seed of hope that he’ll never get his memory back. And I am utterly disgusted by that realization.
Ten minutes later, Luca comes out of the bathroom, his hair is loose and he’s wearing gray sweatpants, and a white T-shirt. Laid-back looks good on him. Well, everything looks good on Luca. The burns on his arm seem to be healing well. The skin is still red, but looks much better than it did when the bandages were removed.
Luca sits down next to me, leans back onto the headboard, and wraps his arm around me. “Come here.”
He pulls me to him until I am sitting between his legs, with my back pressed to his chest. Then, he leans over and picks up the folder he left on the recliner and places it on the bed next to him. I open it and skim over a bunch of numbers on the first page. “Cash flows?”
“Yup,” he says as he reaches for his jacket. He takes a pair of glasses from the pocket and puts them on.
I stare at him.
“What?” he asks and grabs the first piece of paper.
“You wear glasses?”
“For reading, apparently. I found them in a drawer at the office today, and the numbers started making much more sense when I could see them clearly.” He tilts his head and narrows his eyes at me “You didn’t know your husband needs glasses?”
“My husband never told me,” I say, then lift my hand and thread my fingers through his hair. He looks hot in glasses. “I guess the cat is out of the bag now.”
“Hmm. You and your husband had a really strange relationship, Isabella.” He leans in and kisses me.
Oh, Luca, you haven’t the slightest idea of how much. I brush the back of my hand over the side of his face, then take my book and lean back onto his chest. Not five seconds later, his right hand slips under my silk nightgown and into my panties. He places his finger at my entrance and slowly slides it in. I gasp and look over my shoulder to find him focused on the cash flow printout in his left hand, seemingly immersed in the numbers.
“Luca?”
“Yes?” he mumbles, not looking up.
“I can’t concentrate with your finger inside me,” I state what should be obvious.
“Well, too bad. Because it’s staying there, Isabella.”
“You expect me to be able to read like this?”
He finally looks up from his report, his face the embodiment of seriousness. “You’ll get used to it. I enjoy having my fingers inside you, so every time you sit next to me, that’s where they’ll be. Do you have a problem with that?”
I blink at him. “No.”
“Perfect.” He nods and turns back to his papers.
“What if there’s someone else around?” I ask.
“In that case, I may reconsider.”
He may reconsider?
With the book on World economy in my hands, I try to ignore his warm palm over my pussy and his finger inside me. It doesn’t work. I know how skilled his hands are, and it’s driving me mad. Trying to keep the rest of my body still, I slowly squeeze my legs together. Luca’s still engrossed in the report as I start rotating my hips just a little, enjoying the feel of my walls brushing his finger.
“Isabella.”
I don’t stop but turn my head and find him regarding me over the rim of his glasses.
“What?” I arch an eyebrow.
“Behave.”
“And what if I don’t wish to behave?”
Luca tsks, lets his papers fall to the floor, then takes the book from my hands and launches it across the room. “Take your clothes off.”
“You first,” I say. “But keep the glasses.”
A deep rumble leaves his lips. When he grabs the hem of his T-shirt to remove it, I can’t help but sigh at the sight of his biceps bulging in the process. I get a hold of his sweatpants, but a second later end up on my back, with Luca holding the hem of my nightgown.
“Not the silk one!” I shout, but it’s too late. He’s already tearing the material. That’s the fourth one this week. “Damn it, Luca!”
While he’s removing his pants and boxer briefs, I take off my panties so they don’t meet the same fate as the nightgown. When I look up, I find Luca regarding me with hooded eyes.
“You’re so fucking sexy,” he whispers, grabs me around the waist and pulls me to him. “I want you to ride me, but don’t you dare come until I say you can.”
Wetness pools between my legs.
“Why?” I straddle him and press my palms on his chest, positioning myself above his fully erect cock.
His hands grab at my butt cheeks, squeezing. “Because I said so.”
I bite at my lower lip and lower myself, taking his thick length inside of me inch by inch. “And what if I can’t control myself?”
Luca tilts his head up and snags my chin, his eyes staring daggers at me. “You will.”
I smirk. There’s something unbelievably sexy about him ordering me around, especially when he wears those glasses. “If you say so, Mr. Rossi.”
The moment the words are out of my mouth, I feel his cock twitch. I lower myself until I’m fully seated in and rock my hips, already close to coming. Luca lifts his hand to my lips and pushes his thumb into my mouth. I suck on it in the same rhythm as I move my body while the pressure in my core builds.
I glide my palms up his hard chest and rock my hips, enjoying the way my walls stretch to accommodate his size. As I reach his hair, I sink my hands into his dark strands, making sure I don’t accidentally touch the wound on the back of his head. They removed his stitches last week, but I’m sure it still must be sensitive.
“Why are you so fixated on my hair?” he asks as he trails his hands down my back, the rough skin of his palms causing goose bumps with his every touch.
“I’m not,” I breathe out, then lean down to nip at his chin.
“You keep taking the elastic out every time you have the chance, Isabella.” His hands travel down to my ass. He lifts me and slams me back down onto his cock. “Why?”
“I like seeing your hair down, that’s all,” I say.
The truth is, it makes me feel special. Luca never wears his hair loose in public. Before his accident, I only saw him with his hair unbound a handful of times, and it always felt as if I got a glimpse of something forbidden. I’m so crazy in love with him that I get excited by something as inconsequential as the fact that he now almost always removes his hair tie when we’re alone.
I straighten and grind against him, enjoying the sight of him under me.
“Don’t you dare come.” Luca says through gritted teeth and squeezes my ass.
I smirk.
Suddenly, Luca grabs me around my waist and lifts me up until he’s holding me just an inch above his cock. I wrap my hands around his thick forearms and bury my nails in his skin, glaring at him. The devil just smiles.
“Frustrated looks good on you, Mrs. Rossi,” he says and lowers me a bit until the tip of his cock enters me. I try moving down so I can take all of him back inside me but fail. Leaning forward, I fix him with my gaze and move my right hand to his hard length. Then, I squeeze it. A deep rumble leaves Luca’s mouth and the next moment I find myself lying on my back, with his big body looming over mine. He gathers my wrists into his right hand and moves my arms above my head, keeping them locked there.
“Now, you can come,” he says and slams into me with such force that I scream and come instantly. He keeps pounding as I ride my orgasm until his seed spills inside me.

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