Chapter Seventeen

Lore

Renzo solved our problems with sex.

There was no way to deny that as another week passed.

And nothing changed.

He kept crawling into bed, lavishing over my body, teasing and pleasing my growing hopelessness out of me, and replacing it with pleasure and those sticky, tricky sex hormones.

The nights were all the same.

Falling into a deep, contented sleep with Renzo’s body close and comforting.

But the mornings were all the same too.

Waking up alone, that same deep, aching loneliness and emptiness clawing in my stomach, growing until it felt like that was all there was in the world.

I tried to chase those feelings away by keeping my days busy. I took to cleaning the apartment, shooing Elian away when he tried to gather the glasses and plates and garbage from the still frequent parties, insisting that I needed something to do to make my days productive.

The look on Elian’s face said he saw beneath the mask I was putting on, but he didn’t press. And I didn’t know if I was grateful for that, or if it only hurt more, only made me feel more alone.

I had Cinna on occasion. But mostly only when she was popping over with coffee for me because she was in the area. It seemed like Renzo wasn’t the only member of his family who worked themselves to the bone, day in and out. And, I imagined, Cinna felt the need to work even harder than most of the other members of the family, feeling the need to prove herself because she was a woman in a male-dominated world.

But that was… it.

That was all I had.

Long, restless days where I cleaned endlessly, then tried to focus on my books. Mostly failing. Before eating something Elian dropped off, and crawling into bed.

Where I sat awake, hating myself for it, but aching for a look, a touch, a few kind words from my husband who only seemed to remember I existed when I was right in front of him.

The party was still raging a floor below me as I curled up in bed, my cramps making me rock and whimper to myself. All the while an ache no less intense started in my chest, knowing that this would be the night when I wouldn’t get my little fix of Renzo’s attention, when I would have to go through an entire week with nothing to light the growing darkness within.

I heard the footsteps on the stairs, but this time the little thrill inside was buried under the ache for a glimpse of Renzo’s sweetness.

The door opened, bringing the laughter, conversation, and music for a moment, before silencing it again.

“What’s wrong?” Renzo asked, and I could practically feel his dark gaze on me.

“Nothing,” I insisted since, technically, nothing was. Just a monthly annoyance.

“Are you sick?” he asked.

“No.”

Renzo made a noise in his throat before moving away from the door and going into the bathroom. But he came back less than a minute later.

“Mouse,” he said, voice softer, and I swear it was like a caress, soothing down all my frazzled edges. “You want a painkiller?” he asked, coming around the bed when I didn’t turn to look at him.

I remembered then that I hadn’t tucked the tampon box back into the drawer after I pulled one out earlier.

“I’m okay,” I said, unable to look at his face.

What can I say? I was a girl raised around boys. I never really had anyone close to me to talk to about girly things like this. So I wasn’t surprised by the heat that rose up my neck to tint my cheeks.

“Why suffer, though?” he asked, finger teasing over my flaming cheek, seeking my chin, and forcing it up until I had no choice but to look at him. “I’m a grown-ass man, Lore. This shit doesn’t bother me. No reason to feel weird about it. Gonna happen every month for the next, what, thirty years. Should be able to talk about it.”

“I took ibuprofen,” I told him. “It just hasn’t kicked in yet.”

“Okay. What else helps?” he asked.

“I’m okay.”

“Let’s try this again. What else helps when you’re bleeding and feeling like crap?”

“A heating pad,” I admitted, cursing myself for not having thought of packing it.

Still squatting next to the bed, he reached for his phone, tapping away for a minute.

“You like chocolate?” he asked.

“Are there people in the world who actually don’t like chocolate?” I asked, getting a small twitch from his lips.

“Any other requests?” he asked.

“You don’t have to order me anything,” I insisted, even as my heart fluttered a bit at this rarity. His softness and attention. When sex was off the table.

Renzo shook his head at me as he stood, and made his way to the bathroom.

I thought maybe he’d changed his mind on ordering me anything when I heard him in the shower. But not twenty minutes later, there was a knock at the bedroom door that had Renzo coming out of the bathroom in a pair of low-slung sleep pants, to accept a bag from whoever was on the other side.

Then he was coming toward me as he opened the box of the heating pad, plugging it in, turning it on, and leaving it on the floor to heat up as he piled a massive amount of chocolate onto my nightstand, then started to open another box, pulling out some kind of long strip that reminded me of a massive band-aid.

“Roll on your back for me, mouse,” he demanded, and I was too curious to do anything but what he demanded.

He pulled down the covers, then pushed up my shirt, before starting to draw down my pants.

I tensed, making his gaze slide up to mine.

“Relax,” he demanded softly as he finished exposing my belly. Then unpeeled the back of the patch, and pressed it over my stomach.

“What is… oh,” I said at the warming sensation.

“Saw those. Figure might help when you can’t be connected to a plug,” he said as he pulled my pants back up and my shirt down, then pressed the warm heating pad to my stomach before drawing up the blanket.

“Thank you,” I said, getting those flutters and swoops in my chest that reminded me just how far gone I was for this man, despite knowing it mostly led to heartache.

Renzo said nothing as he moved around the bed, sliding into his side, then patting his chest.

“Come here, mouse,” he demanded.

I’m almost embarrassed at how quickly I curled into him, resting my head on his chest, hearing the heartbeat under my ear as his warmth enveloped me.

Renzo reached down, pulling the heating pad back into place, then wrapping one arm around my lower back as the other one slipped upward to start to gently massage my scalp like he knew I loved so much.

Before I knew it, I was drifting off to sleep wrapped in the arms of the man I loved way more than was good for me.

__

It was the next day, as I was making myself tea on the stove in a saucepan because we didn’t have a kettle, when the door suddenly flew open with enough force to make it knock against the wall.

I jumped, my hand shooting out for, I don’t know, something to defend myself with, I guess, before I saw Renzo storming into the apartment.

His spine was ramrod straight, his shoulders tense, and I saw the muscle ticking in his jaw as he turned away from me, charging toward the bar.

The glass slammed onto the bar top with enough force that I was surprised it didn’t splinter apart.

Reaching over, I turned off the water as I watched my husband pour a glass of whiskey, throw it back, then refill it.

It did nothing to soften the sharp edges of his frustration.

I had no clue what could manifest such a strong reaction in a man who seemed so in control of himself all of the time. But I had to imagine it was something serious if it had Renzo home before the sun even went down.

Renzo threw back his second drink, refilled it, then took his glass over toward a chair in the living room. The same one he’d pulled me down on when I’d been drunk and dizzy.

I stood there for a moment as he stared down at the ground, trying to figure out what I could say or do. Especially after he’d been so sweet with me the night before.

His phone rang in his pocket, and he dug it out, staring at it, then tossing it.

My heart jumped as it skittered across the table, then dropped to the floor.

Still unsure what to do, but knowing he needed some sort of comfort, I made my way into the living room, fetching his phone, and placing it on the table, then standing in front of him.

Feeling painfully awkward, I reached out, placing my hand over his on the arm of the chair, watching as his gaze flicked up to mine, seeing the fire simmering behind his eyes.

“What can I do?” I asked, voice soft as he watched my face.

“Nothing,” he said after a minute, shaking his head as if he needed to knock a pesky thought loose.

“Renzo…” I said, voice soft.

Renzo sucked in a deep breath.

Then, voice a rough, sexy shiver, he said, “Do you want to learn to suck my cock, mouse?” he asked.

Before I could even wrap my head around the words, though, my body reacted, my sex clenching hard in anticipation.

Sure, Renzo had been incredibly giving in the oral sex department, but I’d never been able to get up the nerve to try, too insecure about doing it wrong. And Renzo had never pressed or asked or seemed upset about not getting it.

So I never really understood why he seemed so turned on by the idea of going down on me. Until the ache was throbbing through my own body as I stood there in front of him.

Objectively, I knew that, were I not on my cycle, that he would likely already have me on his lap or bent over, and be surging inside of me.

But that wasn’t an option.

“Yes,” I said.

“Yeah?” he asked, his head tilting to the side. “You don’t have to,” he added.

“I want to,” I insisted.

Then, to emphasize my point, I lowered myself down in front of him, watching as the heat in his eyes went from anger to hunger by the time my knees were on the floor.

A low rumble moved through him as my hands went tentatively up toward his waist, undoing his button and zipper.

“That’s a good girl,” he murmured, bolstering my confidence as I reached into his pants and freed his cock, finding him so hard that his cock bobbed out and then pressed near his belly.

Renzo’s hand moved out from under mine, grabbing my wrist, and pulling it down to close around his cock, then helping me stroke him down to the base, his breath exhaling through his nose.

“Feel what you do to me?” he asked, making my desire build. “Keep your hand here,” he instructed. “And come over here and taste me,” he added, and I was glad for his directions as uncertainty filled me, wanting to do this right, to please him, but unsure how to make that happen.

Sucking in a deep breath, I slid between his thighs, leaning down, and teasing my tongue around the head of his cock.

The barely-there touch had a low curse escaping Renzo. His reaction urging me on, I moved my tongue across the head, tasting his desire as I did so, another thrill moving through me.

“That’s it, baby,” he groaned. “Put your mouth around me. I need to be inside.”

I was happy to oblige, closing my mouth around his cock, loving the way he moaned and bucked up into my mouth.

“Take me in, mouse. Take me as deep as you can,” he instructed, and I kept sliding down his thick length. “That’s it,” he groaned, his hand moving down to gather my hair, holding it at the base of my neck, so he could see. “Just up and down, baby,” he said, and I carefully tucked my lips around my teeth, then did as he instructed.

Up and down. Slowly at first. But going faster at the way Renzo’s breath started to get quicker and more uneven, at the way his hand curled on my hair, at the low groans started to escape him.

“That feels so fucking good, baby,” he praised, his hips bucking up into my mouth, making me take him a little deeper.

His hand moved down, taking my hand off of his shaft, and moving it down slightly. “Just touch,” he told me as my fingers teased over his balls. “Yeah, like that,” he hissed, getting close.

“You’re doing so fucking good, baby,” he told me, making my sex clench and dragging a low moan out of me, vibrating around his cock. “You like sucking me off, huh, mouse?” he asked. “Open your eyes,” he demanded. “Look what you’re fucking doing to me,” he told me, making my lashes flutter open, finding him looking down at me, his eyes molten, his lips parted. “You look so fucking hot with my cock in your mouth.”

I took him even deeper, getting a rough, low groan out of him.

“Oh, fuck, mouse. I’m gonna come,” he warned, hips rocking faster into my mouth. “Do you want to stop, or are you going to let me come down your sweet throat?”

Legs pressed together to ease the ache between, I just kept working him, wanting to know what it was like to taste his release.

“Fuck, baby, I’m coming,” he said as I took him deeper, feeling his release fill my mouth and trickle down my throat.

I worked him through it until his hand loosened on my hair, then slowly moved backward, letting him slide out of my mouth.

“Oh, mouse,” he whispered as I rested my head on his thigh, not wanting to move away. “Come up here,” he demanded, voice all soft again.

I didn’t waste a second, climbing right up into his lap, eager for the chance to be close to him.

“You liked that, didn’t you?” he asked, reaching for his glass, and taking a sip, then holding it up to my lips.

I shook my head, getting another of those rumbles out of him that I loved so much.

“Rather have the taste of me in your mouth, mouse?” he asked, sounding pleased at that as I again pressed my thighs together to ease the ache at his dirty words. “Rather have the taste of you in my mouth too,” he said, finishing his drink. “Soon,” he added, getting a little whimper out of me.

He put the cup down on the table, and then his hand was sliding up my leg, my knee, thigh. Higher.

“Shh,” he murmured as I tensed when his hand pressed between my thighs. “I can make you come just like this,” he told me, then pressed his fingers into my clit, the pressure firmer, the friction of my pants and panties against me making desire immediately spark and catch, spreading through my whole body.

“You sound so good when I’m touching you,” Renzo said as he started to drive me upward. “That’s it,” he said as my whimpers became ragged moans. “Let me hear you come for me.”

Not much longer, I did, crying out my release against his neck.

“Always so soft after you come,” he said as I snuggled in, his hands drifting over me. “How’re the cramps?” he asked, his hand moving over my belly where I had one of those pain patches from him stuck to my skin.

“Better now,” I admitted. They were always awful the second day, hence the pain patch even though it didn’t last long.

“Yeah?” he asked, sounding intrigued. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, and I could imagine orgasms from him each month to ease the pains.

On the table, his phone was letting out a steady stream of dings and vibrations.

He ignored them for a few minutes.

But when I heard his sigh, I knew the moment was over, that I was about to lose him again. Even before he was patting me to get up, then tucking himself away, and standing, before fetching his phone.

I tried not to feel disappointed as I lost all of his attention to his phone, to whoever was on the other side of it.

Then he was grumbling to himself.

“Gotta go,” he said, already forgetting all about me as he turned and made his way to the door.

Within ten minutes of us both coming, he was gone.

I walked on numb legs to the kitchen, turning the water back on, and trying to talk myself out of wallowing in my feelings of disappointment.

What had I expected?

That he would curl up with me for hours, telling me about all his hopes and dreams, asking me about mine?

That was certainly what I wanted.

But I knew it wasn’t something I could have.

I wore his brief moments of kindness like beads on a bracelet, as if I could maybe use it as a rosary, praying for the day he might love me like I loved him.

I took my tea back to my bed that would remain empty the entire night, wondering if maybe the idea of happily-ever-afters was just the stuff of the stories my mom used to read to me, or the books I devoured for years.

That maybe this was as good as it got.

But as I drifted off to sleep, I knew that this, whatever this was, was never going to be enough.