King of Stars (The Next Generation #2)

24. Stella

Chapter 24

Stella

I t was the soft motion that made me open my eyes. The warm Tuscan sun rested on my face as the feel of a butterfly drifted across my stomach. The sun was getting hot as it stilled on my skin, but the caresses felt even better the more aware I was to it. I blinked against the heat and turned my face.

I smiled, not able to control it. “ Buongiorno ,” I whispered to the beautiful man lying next to me.

Even with the stunning views all around, he would always be the view I’d ache to see. I didn’t know much, but I knew that—as well as I knew I had a heart in my chest. There was not an ounce of doubt making me question it. It didn’t matter where I’d lay my head. If Matteo Fausti was next to me…wherever we were together would be my home.

His fingers barely grazed my skin as he gave me a smile so perfect, it blazed like the sun. He was all dark and brooding features, but his teeth were white and perfect, only made more stunning by his tan face. He lifted my hand and brought it close to his mouth. His breath was cool and smelled like mint.

“ Buongiorno , la mia stella .” His lips rested on my pulse, like he was taking it, and then moved up, up, up my arm until he came to my lips. The kiss was gentle and slow and warm. He said a few more words in Italian that I didn’t recognize. “I missed you.”

“Why?” I breathed out. “Did I go somewhere in my sleep?”

His smile melted and his eyes hardened some. “Tell me, did you?”

“No. I’ve been right here—next to you.”

“ Bene .” He breathed in the scent of my skin. He whispered words in Italian that sounded so romantic, I shivered. “When you’re asleep, you’re too far from me.”

“Do you think we could meet in dreams?”

His face turned even more serious. He nodded. “We met in heaven, and one day, we will reunite there again, never to part.”

“That’s so nice.” I sighed. The idea of it was beyond me, but this entire life felt like heaven after Matteo had found me.

A beam of sunlight fell between us, and we were both glowing. Yes, this felt like heaven, all right. Especially when our eyes connected, and it felt like we were both melting into each other. Like my body was absorbing his, and his mine. Like we would always carry each other within each other.

After a few minutes, after the intensity was making me…antsy, making me crave him until I could no longer ignore the ache, I reached out and touched his face. His eyes closed as my fingertips gently slid down the side of his face. I took a chance and leaned in and kissed him. Like before, the kiss started out gentle, but before long, I found myself on top of him, searching for the delicious friction I’d experienced the night before.

The night when he’d turned a girl into a woman.

His woman.

He groaned, a deep, beautiful sound, and then flipped me over. He took my wrists in his hands and stared at me before he gave me a quick kiss and then told me to get dressed. He stood from the bed and went to brush his teeth. I sat up a second later, watching him, almost dazed.

Why wasn’t he touching me? Wanting to be inside of me? Did he not want me anymore? He’d told me there were times he wanted me so badly, if he didn’t have me, he would die. I believed him. I felt the same way. It almost felt like an instinct that had been buried for centuries, and when our eyes had met that night, it came to the surface, because something inside of me had recognized something inside of him. It was deep, much deeper than anything I’d ever felt before, but again…it felt simple. Like I could understand it. Because it was an instinct we shared. This inborn tendency couldn’t exist unless him and I did—together.

Damn. I was in so deep with him. I knew it the first time our eyes met in that underground grave disguised as an exclusive club.

“Stella.”

I hadn’t realized I’d been staring at my hands until he called my name, and I looked up.

“Get. Dressed.”

“Okay.”

Following in his footsteps, I brushed my teeth, then I stood next to him and fixed my hair, applied a little makeup and scented body cream. I headed to the closet and chose a breezy summer dress. It was bright, falling below my ankles, and had a halter top. It was cool and moved easily with my body. Matteo sat me down and fastened on a pair of gold sandals. The straps snaked around my ankles. I spritzed some perfume on, and then Matteo took my hand and led me out of the room.

The men all straightened as we stepped out, nodding to us in a respectful way as we passed. For as young as Matteo was, it seemed second nature for him to control whatever room he walked into. He seemed to be born into the right family. He was going to be king someday, and I’d be his queen, the shining light in the darkness of his life.

The thought gave me pause even if my feet continued to move forward.

Would I always be enough for him? Would my love always shine bright enough to bring him out of his mind and lead him back to his heart? Maybe Matteo would be as feared as his grandfather someday—maybe he already was. Maybe he’d do some shady shit for the family “business.” Things I could never understand or do for family honor. He’d told me personal offenses, such as what the Nemours did to me, were different. For the family, it was business. But for me, it was personal, and he’d make them pay by draining their blood and feeding it to the devil. For all that darkness and violence, though, Matteo Fausti had a place in his heart made for love.

I was so caught up in my thoughts that I hadn’t noticed Matteo stopped a second before. I didn’t run into him like I expected, though. His hand snaked around my waist, and he pulled me in close, hip to hip. He put his finger to his mouth. He wanted me to be quiet.

Music drifted from the kitchen. Something soft and slow. His mom was at the stove, making eggs. His father was right behind her, maybe kissing her neck or breathing her in. They were swaying to the music, singing softly to each other. Then the music changed, and a faster song came on. Brando started to sing to Scarlett, and she started laughing, the sound full of helium, making it float.

Brando was way off tune and kept getting the lyrics wrong. Scarlett almost howled with laughter.

“Remember?” she said through happy tears. “Remember I was dancing like this?” And she moved her body, along with her arms, to the beat of the song. She started to sing it. She wasn’t all that in tune either, but she knew all the words.

“Age is a thief,” Brando said in a voice that reminded me so much of Matteo’s, except it was older, with more gravel. “But it could never steal my memories of you, baby. Those are here.” It seemed like he wrapped his arms around her tighter, because she gasped. He set his chin on top of her head, but only to use it to push her head against his heart. “A place where they’ll never leave me.”

He turned her in his arms, and even though the music was fast, it was like a slow song played again. They gazed at each other, like something was moving between them too, connecting them for always. Tears ran down her cheeks. He closed his eyes, as if the sight of them pained him, then he kissed them as if to heal them.

“That’s…” I breathed, not even able to finish my thought.

Matteo brought my hand to his lips, and the warm air from his mouth washed over my skin. I met his eyes, and he leaned in and kissed the tears I hadn’t realized fell from my eyes. Quietly, as though we were intruders in a private memory, we left the villa. Not only was I an intruder, but I knew I’d always own a small piece of what I’d seen in that kitchen.

Love.

It was so strong I could feel it touching my skin like the sun that morning.

I could see it swaying to the music like two dancers who were life partners.

I could smell it in the air—something sweet and warm and filling, like bread just out of the oven.

I could see it in the faces of two lovers who wanted more than one lifetime together because that was how deep the connection ran between them.

I understood then what Matteo had meant when he said, “We met in heaven, and one day, we will reunite there again, never to part.”

My mind was on the kitchen scene, and not on our direction, when Matteo opened the door to what seemed like a small stone building filled with things for the garden. It smelled earthy, like grass and the faint perfume of lemons. Two steps in, he turned my body toward the wall, pressed me into it, and kissed me. His hands were on each side of my face, and his mouth was hungry.

It was hard to catch my breath, and when I set my hands on his shoulders and pushed a little, he broke the kiss, even though I’d initiated the stop. His eyes, though, were so intense on mine, I wasn’t sure if the separation was going to do me any good. My heart felt like it was trying to climb out of my chest.

“It’s killing me. A sword to the heart. A bullet to the gut. A slow-moving poison with barbs. A disease no doctor has a name for. When I can’t touch you, be inside of you, all these things happen at once to me. You’re the cure to all sicknesses. To all weapons. To all my wars. The antidote to all poison. I will always want you.”

This time I met his eyes and held his stare. “How did you know?” I barely got out. “How did you know that’s how I was feeling?”

“You’re mine,” he said.

I thought I could hold his stare, but it was too hard. I looked down for a few seconds before I could lift my eyes. “Is this…I mean, you not touching me. Is it because of where we are? Is it one of those respect things?”

Ava had told me this family had their own laws. They were big on loyalty and respect and were skilled in the art of finding the perfect balance between ruthless and romantic. It had been so long since I’d been out in the real world, and it would take me time to learn about that too, but this world was going to have a separate set to get used to. I was excited about being able to notice the contrast between them one day.

His thumb caressed the side of my face, then outlined the shape of my lips. “We’re not married. I refuse to disrespect you that way. I refuse to disrespect my parents’ home that way.”

Oh, that explains our night underneath the stars and not in a bed. “Is that why the rush to get married? You’ll get me anytime you want me?”

“Any time. Any place. And I cannot stand the thought of not calling you my wife.” He lifted my hand and pushed it against his heart. “ My wife.”

His heart pounded against my palm, and I couldn’t even put into words how much the feel of it soothed me. “I would think this was all some wonderful dream, you know, but I’ve just watched your parents in the kitchen, and you’ve taken me to heaven, Matteo. A place where love rules.”

His next words were in Italian, and then, leaning in, he whispered in my ear, “Your love will always rule me, la mia stella .”

I closed my eyes as some of the heat between our bodies seemed to move back with him. I took a deep breath, but I didn’t have time for another. His mouth was on mine, his tongue teasing. Mine didn’t need much persuasion to tango with his. Our tongues moved in a slow roll, getting deeper and deeper with each swirl. My hands reached out for his chest, my fingers sinking into the white shirt he’d paired with his black suit slacks.

We only seemed to dress for this moment—to undress each other. We couldn’t seem to get our clothes off fast enough. My skin was crying to be close to his. So close, I wished I could dissolve into his bloodstream. It had only been, what, hours, and I wanted him like it had been centuries we’d been apart.

“Tell me,” I breathed out when his mouth kissed down my neck. “Tell me this is as insane for you as it is for me. I can’t stand to be far from you. I can’t stop thinking about this.”

“Thinking about what, la mia stella ?” His tongue licked up a bead of sweat that ran down my throat until we were face to face again.

I moaned. “Call me that again.”

His cool breath fanned across my lips as his caressed mine. “ La mia stella .”

My eyes rolled so far back just because of the way he said those words, that for a second, I thought they were stuck. He started to lick and suck the side of my breasts, and I had to hold on to his shoulders so I’d stay on my feet. He bit me and I gasped, but then I moaned.

“Do that again.”

He did, and the sound I made seemed to echo in the stone building.

“Tell me what you can’t stop thinking about.” He nibbled all the way to my nipple, and when he started to suck, it felt like my stomach dropped into my thighs, making them quiver.

The noise I made mimicked what my thighs had just done.

The scent between us was making me rise even higher. It was a combination of him, of me, and a sweet smell drifting from between my legs. His hand barely caressed my leg as a low, pleasurable noise vibrated in his throat at the feel of the wetness coating my thighs. It was like all the desire I had for him was tangible. He dropped to his knees and looked up at me.

My heart rate spiked, and I felt like I couldn’t catch my breath.

“Tell me, la mia stella.”

Tell him…what? He was too close. His cool breath fanned against my overheated skin. This building was bordering on hot. And I might have been smoking. About to combust.

“What can’t you stop thinking about, la mia stella .”

“You,” I breathed out. “Touching me. Being inside of me. It’s driving me crazy.” Then I took his head and brought it forward as my legs parted.

“Yehardgarbledee.” That was what it sounded like when he pressed his lips against my lips…the ones down there. He started to kiss, and then lick, and then suck. I pressed myself even harder against his mouth, riding his face. That was what he told me it was called when I got on top. Riding him. So fucking good. So fucking gooood! I made a garbled noise as all the pleasure built, then exploded out of me.

My head was spinning as he turned me around and set me over some kind of barrel. The smell of citrus was even stronger, and paired with his delicious scent, I felt fucking delirious. He rubbed himself against my entrance, speaking Italian to me as he did.

“So fucking wet.” He hissed out a breath. “So fucking wet for me.”

“I need you inside of me!” Maybe I shouted. Maybe I didn’t. I was too delirious to even care. “Now. Please .” I tried to ram my ass against him, but he stilled me by putting his hands on my hips. The feel of his skin was like a brand. A scalding hot thing that left a mark on me deeper than flesh. I could feel it turning my bones into jelly.

He pulled me back by the little hair I had, and my eyes lifted to find his. They were burning up with intensity. “Yeah,” he barely got out, his voice raspy enough that I could’ve sworn I felt gravel against my skin. “I fucking feel it too. It’s overpowering me. Controlling me. Your heart and body are the master of mine.”

Our eyes pulled us closer even though neither of us had breathed, it felt like. I felt like I was moving into him, and he was moving into me. Like we were two ghosts about to pass through each other. I whimpered when the force of it became too much. Maybe his gravity and mine were combining, pulling at each other, demanding his heart and mine become one. Maybe it was responsible for the heat in this building. I was covered in sweat, and so was he. I wasn’t sure if the heat of the atmosphere was responsible for it or whatever was going on between our bodies.

I wasn’t sure of anything but one thing:

I didn’t want him inside of me. I needed him inside of me.

“Hold on,” he said, nodding to the wooden thing I was bent over.

My hands held on to the barrel or whatever it was.

He entered me slowly, so slowly, stretching every inch of me with his twenty-pound cock. It was a delicious stretch that drove me out of my mind and into a place that belonged to only the two of us. I breathed through it. Moaned through the sweet torture. Then he slid out just as slowly, and my fingers gripped the wood, all my concentration on every inch of him inside of me. It was a blazing fire full of pleasure and cold-burning pain. When he came back in, it was with a stroke that made me breathless. He filled me up to the brim. No breathing room.

I thought as he pounded into me, sending me further and further into space, that the barrel would move, tip over, but his control, I was learning, was fucking legendary. He held me in place. Safe. And kept giving me more and more of what I needed. He’d slow down just to come back faster, harder, and my moans and his grunts seemed to be slapping as hard as our bodies. Like my thighs, my ass quivered when he pounded into me.

“I’m about to?—!”

We seemed to explode into each other at the same time. I could feel him jerking inside of me, spilling himself, and then warmth running down my legs. I smelled the scent of it in the air, and something about it made me feel feral. Like I wanted him to do it again and again and again.

His hand snaked around my waist, and he lifted my body against his, like I weighed nothing. My eyes were already closed, not able to open. He kissed the side of my face, big kisses that echoed inside of the room. His hand stilled on my lower stomach, his fingers splayed. “My home. The place I will always come back to. And one day, our children will be at home here. I live for this. I die for this. I’d kill for this. Cheat for it. I’d even lie for this.” He seemed to pull me even closer, and I couldn’t imagine a more perfect sky for me. I was drawn to his darkness like he was drawn to my light.

And those words he’d spoken to me. I’d even lie for this. I knew how much that meant in his world. It meant more than living. More than dying. Even more than killing. His word was his honor, and without it, what good was a man? That was what he’d told me once.

I breathed out a ragged breath. My chest was tight. My lungs on fire. Every muscle and bone already sore, reminding me he was still there. “I love you, too, Matteo Fausti. So much. I’m not even sure if a lifetime will be enough to show you how much.”

“Only God can know.”

That gave me pause. I’d never thought about it that way. Those times I thought I couldn’t go another second with the Nemours and the Russians, I’d always cried for my mom. Maybe because we’d never been religious. My mom was never taught to be, I didn’t think. I liked that Matteo’s family had faith, though. And what he’d said, Only God can know , made total sense to me.

“Yes, Matteo Fausti,” I whispered. “I think so.”

He kissed the spot over my heart, cleaned me up, dressed me, then dressed himself. He lifted me off my feet and carried me back to the villa, his eyes on mine the entire time, refusing to let me walk.