Bellissimo Lotta (Beautiful Struggle): Companion Novel to Bellissimo Fortuna (The Family Trilogy Book 2) (8 page)

“Okay, Binks. I’ll back off, but don’t let him slip through your fingers.”

“He’s too large for that, Callie. My fingers don’t touch when I wrap them around his . . .”

“STOP! Okay I get it.” We both crack up, and all is right in our world again. “I just love you and want you to be happy.”

“Why do you think I’m not, Callie?”

“I just know how great it feels to be in love. I want that for you.”

“That works for you. But don’t try to fool me. I’ve seen many tears shed over your frustration with my brother. Don’t get me wrong, you love him, he loves you, and most of the time you’re both disgustingly all over each other. I know he’d kill for you, but don’t tell me everything is a bed of roses.”

“No relationship is perfect.”

“Exactly why I don’t want one. Too much drama, too many expectations. Expectations lead to disappointments . . . no thank you.”

She shakes her head at me, trying to figure out what she can do to change my mind. She won’t. She
can’t
. She’s loved Bronson for as long as I can remember, her dream is him. I don’t begrudge her that, but I don’t need anyone else’s opinion regarding how I live my life. “Okay, I’ll back off. Let’s go get prom dresses.” I see her text; I’m assuming to my brother, letting him know where we’re going. I can’t be accountable to anyone, so what Dakota and I have works fine.

Prom night arrives, and I’m edgy. All these words like ‘date,’ ‘couple,’ ‘high school sweethearts’ are clouding my brain with everyone throwing terms at me. My dad is quiet as he watches Callie and I stand with Bronson and Dakota. He thinks of Callie as his daughter. He must wish she were after all the shit I’ve given him. I still need to talk to him, apologize for what I said, but I haven’t found the courage or the words.

“You look beautiful,” Dakota says in my ear. I look at my dad’s face, and he’s not comfortable with this show of affection.

“You may want to step back about four feet if you value your life.” I move my eyes in my father’s direction.

I hear him swallow, fear evident in his expression. After nine giant steps back, he halts and stands tall. I can’t help but giggle. He narrows his eyes at me, his signal to let me know there will be payback. Bring it.

“Sei bella.” My dad stares at me.

“Really?” I don’t know why I need his reassurance. I’m not that girl.

“Bianca, you’re stunning. You’ll always be my baby girl.
La mia bambina. Per sempre.”

“Ti amo, Papa.”

“And I love you. Go have fun.” He kisses my cheek, my forehead, and steps away.

In the limo Dakota is relentless. “You still haven’t talked to him?”

“No.”

“Bianca, don’t wait until it’s too late. Remember life isn’t guaranteed.”

“Lay off, Dakota. I’ll handle my own shit.”

“No you won’t. You don’t handle shit. You sweep it under the rug, you ignore it, you push it all down, and one day it’s going to erupt. Don’t let it make you bitter. You’re better than that.”

I want to snap back with a witty retort, but I bite my tongue. His advice is coming from a pure place. “Okay. I’ll do it soon.”

“Did I just win an argument with Bianca Rose Agosto?”

“Do you want to get laid tonight?”

“When you put it so eloquently . . . hell yes.”

“Then shut up. Put your mouth to use. Make me scream. And not in anger.” He smiles at me, shaking his head while pulling me on his lap.

“Sit right here and let’s talk about the first thing that comes up.”

“You’re so cheesy.”

“And you love it.” I freeze. He had to ruin this moment with that word. He feels the shift in the air and backpedals, “Not that you love me, but you love my cheesiness. My ability to make you scream and beg.”

I move off his lap, needing space. “I do,” I say to appease him. Every part of me is tense; I’m physically holding back the words he wants to hear, the words I want to say, and the words that will change us.

Forever.

The words that will ruin us if I speak them aloud.

I love you.

Fucking eight letters.

Three words.

One meaning.

They make me tremor in fear.

“Come back to me.” His stare penetrates me. This is one time I don’t want him to see me. He doesn’t relent; his brown eyes speak a thousand words. The gold flecks are prominent with the spark of hope, and he’s ripping me in two without uttering a word. My heart hammers against my chest, yet he washes calm over me, begging me to say what he wants to hear. The space separating feels non-existent, what started as a no-strings friendship is morphing into something that petrifies me, yet he makes me want to grab onto what’s in front of me and hold tight. An entire conversation is spoken with no words, and when I blink, I break the spell. “Damn,” he whispers, and I know I’ve shattered his hope and splintered my heart. “One day, Bianca. One fucking day you will say it.”

I don’t respond. Don’t move a muscle. The rest of the ride is filled with anxiety and silence. I’m at a loss for words, and that is rare. I want to soothe his hurt, I want to make myself vulnerable and tell the truth, but the lies are easier. No risk. I let my mask fall back into place, compartmentalize my emotions, and Bianca Agosto emerges from the limo ready for a fun-filled night. “Oh, did I mention my birth control is in effect, so no condoms for you?” I wink at his shocked expression and hope that is enough of a Band-Aid to salvage this night.

He grabs my arm, pulling me back towards him, “You never cease to amaze me.”

“You can thank me later. Multiple times.”

“I can guarantee it, baby.” He captures my mouth in a scorching kiss that leaves me panting when he pulls away.

“Oh, and you notice the no panty lines in this dress? That’s because I’m commando.”

“One hour, Bianca. That’s the amount of time you have to smile, play nice, socialize. One damn hour.”

“But, I want to dance.”

“We’ll dance.” His gaze is molten, and my stomach rolls and jumps with anticipation.

“If you insist.”

“I do. And you’re going to insist I shove my dick so hard in you that you’ll feel me next week.” I think I did more than salvage this night.

We walk hand in hand inside the room, and I realize that the next milestone we face will be graduation. He leaves soon after. He and Bronson are going to FSU for the year, followed by DEA training. What does that mean? Is our arrangement over when he’s gone? I’m so stupid for starting something I have no desire to end, and no idea how to continue.

I smile for our pictures, chat with our friends, watch Bronson and Callie fall more in love, and try desperately to find the place inside myself that will tell me every choice I’m making isn’t a monumental mistake. Nothing is shaking this feeling that I’ll ruin everything, yet I don’t know how to keep it without risking myself. That’s not an option.

“Twenty minutes,” he grunts in my ear, kissing the spot below it. I clench my legs, trying to ease the ache forming even though he hasn’t touched me.

‘Nothin’ Like You’ by Dan + Shay begins, and he wraps his arms around me, spinning me to face him, and begins to sway back and forth, pulling me closer. I allow myself to relax in his embrace and cherish this moment. I glide my fingers up and down his spine and feel a shiver move through his body. I smile into the side of his throat and continue my assault, threading one hand through his hair at the nape of his neck. “Time’s up,” he announces to me. I allow him to lead me from the room towards the elevator.

The elevator doors shut, within a second he has me pinned up against the wall, the metal bar biting into my back, but I don’t care. I feel his lips run down my neck to my shoulder, and I sigh. Contentment. “Nothing between us tonight.”

“Yep, we’re safe.”

He pulls back and tilts my face up so I meet his eyes. “No,
nothing
between us. No walls. No barriers. No lies.”

Can I give him that? He wants all my defenses down. He wants to take me back to the moment in the limo. He never asks for more than I can give, and I can’t deny him this. He deserves it, and I don’t think I have enough reserve in me tonight to keep the walls up. “Nothing between us.”

His mouth falls to mine, sweetly kissing and nibbling my lips. His tongue demands entrance, and I allow it. He skillfully glides his tongue over mine, twirling them to mesh together, and in this moment I don’t know whose air I’ breathing. Mine or his. It doesn’t matter, as long as he keeps cherishing me, loving me. I’m good as long as no words are spoken.

We reach the floor and have to part briefly. He shoves the key card in and ushers us through the door. He grabs me at the same time he kicks the door shut and has me in his arms with my legs surrounding his waist. His stance is strong and his steps solid as he makes his way over to the bed. His fingers glide up my back, grab my zipper pulling it all the way down in one motion. Setting me down, the dress falls to the floor and I step out of it. I take a seat and pull my shoes off, and I’m naked in front of him. He yanks off each piece of his tuxedo in a frenzied state and buttons go flying off his shirt.

He crawls up my body, claiming my mouth again. He slows down his assault, but I still feel every emotion he’s trying to convey. I know he loves me. I know he wants me. I know he wants me to want to love him. I do love him, I just don’t want to. His lips clamp down on my nipple while his fingers pinch the other one. “Fuck me,” I moan.

“Soon.” Cocky ass. Truth is, it couldn’t happen soon enough. I love feeling him inside of me, filling me and completing me.

His hands skim down my stomach, descending until he reaches my clit. He presses his thumb against it at the same time he inserts two fingers in me. Not gentle. Not rough. Perfect. “I love feeling how wet you get for me.” Falling back to his knees, he grabs my hand, wrapping it around his cock. “See how hard you make me?” He puts his hand over mine, guiding me to stroke him, squeezing my hand when he needs added pressure. A pearly drop of pre-cum leaks from his slit, and he swipes his thumb over it, bringing it to my mouth. I immediately open and suck it in. His growl shows me how appreciative he is as he removes his fingers at the same time he flips me over and enters me in one solid push.

“Aaah.” Words fail me at the moment.

“So deep this way. Jesus, you’re tight.”

“Move!” I screech.

He pulls out and slams into me. “Like that?” I grip the comforter and push my hips back, watching his control snap. He grips my hips and pounds into me hard. His hands skirt up my torso and grab my breasts while he continues his relentless assault. Leaning over my body, his lips against my shoulder, he enters me over and over. One hand finds my clit adding friction to his dick, hitting my g-spot. I detonate. I don’t finish one orgasm, and he is flipping me over, my back hitting the bed as he lifts me above him, seating me on his dick. Sitting up so we are chest-to-chest, skin-to-skin, he raises and lowers my hips to a punishing rhythm, and I can’t catch my breath. “Fuck me, Bianca. Fuck me like you belong to me.” I use his shoulders for leverage, lift myself off him, and slam down in one motion.

I continue until I see his eyes squeeze shut, and I slow down. His eyes snap to mine, and a smirk comes over his face. “Don’t think for one second you’re controlling this.” He pulls me off him and pushes me down. Lifting my feet over his shoulders he dives between my legs, sucking my clit into his mouth, and thrusting three fingers inside me. He doesn’t give me time to acclimate to his assault and I’m coming again. He enters me again and I feel his balls slapping my ass as he pushes in deeper with my legs still over his shoulders. I grab his waist to try and get leverage to move with him. Over and over he fills me, and when I think I can’t go again he leans down, biting my nipple at the same time his fingers pinch my clit. I feel myself going over the edge, this time I take him with me.

We fear the thing we want the most.

~
Robert Anthony

Chapter 8

Dakota

This girl is going to kill me. Death by fucking. What a way to go. Experiencing her bare . . . I have no analogy. Nothing to compare it to. I felt her heat, the walls of her pussy gripping me tight, unrelenting as I pounded into her. I look down to see her head resting against my chest . . . her cheek pressed to my bare skin listening to my heartbeat. I push her brown locks back so I can see her eyes. She squeezes them tight and won’t meet my gaze. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Rolling her to her back, I grab her chin and force her face up.

“Open your eyes,” I demand. When I see her focus, my chest begins to ache. Staring back at me is every emotion I’ve ever wanted to see, “Talk to me, Bianca.”

“It’s too much. I feel too fucking much.”

“That’s not a bad thing.” I try to keep my voice low and tone soothing. She’s like a wounded animal ready to run.

“This was supposed to be fun.”

“It still is. It just means more.”

“No.” Her tears are falling faster than I can catch them. I try to keep up, wiping them away, but the sheer amount of them is leaving me clueless. I don’t do tears.