Hexed (Never After #6)

31. Enzo

THIRTY-ONE

ENZO

I left because I couldn’t stand up there for another second while Trent waxed poetic about his daughter and lauded us both.

And what was that whole thing with them being descendants of the Lost City of Atlantis and then presenting Aria with that family painting like it was a gift straight from God?

I don’t mind the painting. I do mind the way Venesa looked after Aria made those bullshit comments about being a true Kingston. But that’s probably because I’m hyperaware of Venesa in a way I’ve never been with anyone else.

And I can’t physically go through with this sham of a wedding, which means I have to either convince my father it isn’t the right choice, or I have to kill him and take over, which I’m not sure is even possible logistically…or what I want.

Regardless, after tonight, I’m going to be thrown back into the fire.

Back to reality. Back to the droll life that was mapped out for Peppino yet is being fulfilled by me.

Splashing water on my face in the bathroom, I chuckle.

God, I’m fucking pathetic.

I wash my hands and then exit, but right when I swing the door open, I’m slammed into, my body physically being pushed until it’s inside the small room.

Venesa’s standing there, determination in her gaze. She smirks at me and saunters forward like I’m her prey.

“You okay?” I ask.

“Shut up,” she demands.

I close my mouth, throwing my hands in the air and miming that I’m zipping my lips. I’ll never say another word again if it means she’ll keep looking at me the way she is right now.

She looks ethereal. Cheeks flushed, a gorgeous floor-length black gown lined with purple, hair a beautiful swirl of a mess on her head, and I’m…

Fucking lost in her. The way I always am.

She hesitates when she reaches me, her fingers running up the front of my chest and slipping beneath the lapels of my suit. Her tongue peeks out and licks her bottom lip, and my gaze follows, my own mouth watering from the thought of what it must taste like.

“I want to pretend…just for one night, that it is a different life.”

It takes a second for her words to register, but when they do, embers flare to life.

If this is the only chance I’m ever going to have to be with her, I’m going to take it.

I don’t care that it’s my engagement party to another woman. I don’t care that it technically makes me a cheater. I’ll live with the guilt for the rest of my life if it means I can have Venesa for even a fucking second.

“What do you need?” I ask, keeping my voice low because I’m afraid to ruin the moment.

“You.”

That single word stokes the flames and makes them erupt into a wildfire. I lean down and try to grab her lips with mine, but at the last second, she turns her head. My chest pinches, but I brush it off and keep moving forward. My hands fling out and wrap around her body, her soft curves melding into my hard planes like we’re two long-lost pieces to a puzzle finally clicking into place, and I groan at the feel of her fully pressed against me.

She’s just as soft and perfect as I imagined.

And she’s clearly out of sorts, so if she needs me to keep her anchored, then I’ll be that for her, and if it gets out, if there are any repercussions after, I’ll deal with them as they come.

Her fingers dig into my suit. “Just…make me forget for a little bit, okay? Please.”

My brow furrows. I can taste the desperation in the air, and it’s so out of character for her, I almost stop completely and ask if she wants to talk instead, but I know that will only send her running.

“Okay,” I tell her.

And for as strong of a woman as she is, for everything she is that no one else sees,she’s asking for me to take control. To relieve her from being someone who always has to take care of everything on her own, because if she doesn’t, then no one will.

I grip her tightly by the hips and flip her around until her ass is pressed against me. My cock jerks at the feel.

“Put your hands on the wall,” I command in a low tone.

She sucks in a breath and hesitates for a moment, but she doesn’t disobey, slowly sliding her fingers up the wall until her bloodred manicure is at my eye level and her palms are flat against the surface.

My heart flutters—fucking flutters— and I take my time touching her, relishing in the feel of her curves as I skim up her sides and glide my hands to the front of her body, teasing the undersides of her breasts.

“I need—” she starts.

“I know what you need,” I interrupt, then put my lips next to her ear. “Let me take care of you.”

And I mean it, even if I shouldn’t.

Because the only thing that matters is her .

She blows out a heavy breath and then nods, and I can feel when she surrenders, her body turning to putty against me.

“That’s my girl.” My hands wrap around her fully, cupping her breasts, my cock twitching again from the weight of them.

“I’ve dreamed about touching you,” I murmur.

She moans, pressing against me further. Blood rushes to my dick, and it pulses against her, and fuck, I wish I could just slip her dress up to her thighs and sink so deep inside her that I forget the world, but I won’t.

Not like this.

This isn’t about me; this is about what she needs, and I don’t know what pushed her to this point, but I know that if this is my only chance to be with Venesa, then I’m going to make her remember it.

I want her to feel cherished. Taken care of.

Even if it’s just this once.

And if I ever get the chance to be with her fully? I don’t want it to be in her uncle’s bathroom at my engagement party to another woman. Besides, if I give in and give her a quick fuck here, I know she’ll compartmentalize our entire encounter, making it seem like less than what it actually is.

Because what it is is fucking everything.

I groan as I manipulate her flesh, digging into her breasts and ghosting over where I know her nipples are hiding beneath her dress.

“I’m not going to fuck you,” I whisper in her ear.

Her body stiffens, but I slip my hand over the top of her cleavage and finger the neckline of her dress, dipping below the fabric until I slip underneath completely and I’m groping nothing but flesh.

My eyes roll back at the feel of her, skin to skin, and when she makes a mewling noise and moves on me like I’m not giving her enough, I thrust my hips forward, starting a slow, torturous friction against the curve of her ass.

She’s plastered to the wall, and I reach one of my hands up and intertwine our fingers, putting them on her chest and then moving us down her body together. Slowly, torturously.

My other hand leaves her tit and slides her dress up her thigh until the material is bunched around her waist, and I’m so fucking turned on, I might explode without her even touching me.

And I’m not touching her either.

Not really. Not the way I want.

“I’m not going to fuck you,” I repeat. “Because when I do, I’m going to take my time, cherishing every single inch of you, drinking up your cries and drowning in your moans. Tell me you understand.”

She sucks in a breath and nods, her face turning until her cheek is pressed against the wall. “I understand.”

“Such a perfect girl,” I murmur against her skin.

Our entwined hands move beneath the bunched-up fabric, and arousal makes precum drip from the tip of my dick when I feel the heat of her cunt through our fingers. She’s not wearing any underwear.

“Show me how you make yourself come,” I demand, biting my cheek so I don’t fuck this up and make this end too soon.

“Enzo,” she pleads.

The way she says my name makes me fucking crazy, and I groan, my left hand fisting the fabric at her hip.

“Show me,” I tell her. “So when I’m alone, late at night, I can close my eyes and picture it. Knowing you’re lying somewhere, touching yourself and thinking of me.”

“I need you to fuck me.”

“You need me to take care of you,” I correct. “To put you first. I won’t let you turn this into a one-night stand. Not when it’s more, and you know it. Now, take your hand, play with that pretty little pussy, and make yourself come.”

My breath hitches when she starts a slow motion with her palm, my hand moving on top of hers from the way we’re intertwined, and I swear to God it’s the most erotic thing I’ve ever experienced in my life.

She moans when she moves us farther down, wetness dripping as she teases her entrance with our fingers.

“That’s it, baby. Give it to me,” I urge.

Her head flies back and lands on my shoulder, and I plaster myself to her, my forearm locking across her stomach, my fingers twitching with the need to take over completely. To show her what it feels like when I draw out her orgasm on my own.

“Enzo,” she mewls, and then she slips us inside her, just a little, just the tips of our fingers.

Goddamn.

“In a different life,” I start, my voice shaky from the restraint of holding myself back, “I would be on my knees, feasting on you every day for the rest of our lives.”

She groans, her head lolling and her breathing becoming choppy. She pushes us in farther, her tight channel gripping our fingers as she slowly slides back and forth, her palm moving in circular motions against her clit.

“In a different life, it would be you on my arm, and you I’d get to marry. And I’d take you home and fuck you in our bed, sinking my cock so deep inside you that you’d never get me out.”

Her hand moves faster; her pussy is drenching both our palms.

Drops of my cum drip down my length, making me a mess. I push against her ass, and it shoves our bodies closer to the wall, applying more pressure to her clit from the added weight.

“In a different life…” I pause, emotion suddenly clogging my throat. “I’d love you out loud.”

Something shifts and changes when the words drop off my tongue unbidden. I didn’t mean to say them, and part of me is worried that I ruined the moment, but her cunt contracts and pulses, and she explodes, her moan so loud, I’m worried everyone in the ballroom can hear. My free hand that was holding her by the stomach shoots up and presses against her mouth to stifle the noise, her cheek plastering my fingers to the wall as she comes undone.

She’s a vision.

She’s everything.

But she’s still not fucking mine.

We stay like this, pressed against each other even after she comes back down, because I know that once I move, this will be over. The spell will be broken. I can already feel the whispers of Ma creeping up my spine and into my psyche, but I push them back down, not wanting to destroy things.

And I have this sinking feeling this is all we’ll ever get. A stolen moment, hidden away in a locked bathroom, and it makes me sick because she deserves so much more.

She twists her head and gives me a small smile, those damn dimples making my heart a fucking mess.

And then there’s a click, and the door bursts open behind us, and the moment is smashed into a thousand different pieces.

Because her uncle just walked into the room.