4. Fiamma

FOUR

Fiamma

Power's out here. I'm not going to be able to get out of this place tonight. My new plan is to butter up Luca tonight and see if I can get him to loosen up some for tomorrow. Have fun for me and let's touch base tomorrow! LYLAS

I put my phone away after texting Arianna. Now that we have no power, I know there is no getting out of this so I might as well make it fun. "Okay, you going to play with me or what?"

I shuffle the cards, watching Luca from across the table. The candles flicker in the dim light, casting shadows over his face, making him look even more brooding than usual. The tension between us has eased slightly since we got back, but it's still there, simmering beneath the surface.

"You know, the only game I really know how to play is poker," he says, stretching back in his chair with his hands behind his head like he's the king of the world .

I can't help but smirk. Poker, huh? Well, two can play at that game. I stare at him for a moment, and an idea sparks. A reckless one, but isn't that what I do best?

"Alright then," I say, sitting back in my chair. "Let's make it interesting."

He raises an eyebrow, glancing up at me, clearly not buying whatever I'm about to sell. "Interesting how?"

I let the silence linger for a moment before leaning forward, meeting his gaze head-on. "Strip poker, then."

For a second, his face stays completely unreadable, like he's trying to decide if I'm serious. Then, his expression hardens. "You're kidding."

I shrug, trying to keep my tone casual. "What? Afraid you'll lose? Or, you got a small dick you don't want me to see?"

His jaw tightens, and I can see the battle going on inside him. He knows he should say no. Hell, I know he should say no. But we're both hot-blooded, and the air between us feels thick enough to snap.

He leans back in his chair, arms crossed. "Isn't this what got you in trouble in the first place?"

"What, poker? No, I don't play a lot of poker."

"No, smartass. This flirting shit."

"I'm not flirting with you. Don't flatter yourself. I'm just suggesting a way to make a cold night with no power a little more fun. Don't take life so seriously."

"You have no idea what you're getting your getting yourself into. "

I smile, holding his gaze. "Try me."

For a second, I think he's going to walk away, but then he grabs the cards and starts dealing again, his gape locked on me. "Fine," he says, his voice low. "But you're going to regret this."

The first few hands go by quickly, and I'm already down my sweater, but I still have my shirt on. He hasn't lost a damn thing, of course. But I'm not worried. The thrill of the game, of pushing his buttons, makes the whole thing worth it.

A few more rounds, and I'm losing—badly. My shirt's gone, and I'm down to just my bra and jeans. Luca's still sitting there, fully dressed, that same unreadable expression on his face. It's infuriating how calm he is.

I glance down at my cards, biting my lip. One more round. That's all I need. I'm determined to beat him at least once.

But I don't.

He lays down his hand, and I know I'm done for. I grit my teeth, trying not to let the frustration show as I unhook my bra, my tits hanging out like a pair of ornaments on the tree. The cool air hits my skin, and I catch Luca's gaze flicking over me for just a second before he looks away.

"Maybe this wasn't such a good idea," I mutter, gathering the cards.

Luca reaches over, his hand brushing mine as he takes the deck. The touch sends a jolt through me, and for a moment, we're both still, the space between us shrinking. I can see the conflict in tension in his face—the part of him that wants to stop, to be responsible, and the part that wants something else entirely .

Without thinking, I lean forward, closing the distance between us, and press my lips to his.

It's not soft or gentle. It's heat and fire, a spark that ignites the second our mouths meet. He hesitates for just a moment, but then he's kissing me back, his hand sliding up to the back of my neck, pulling me closer.

The chair scrapes against the floor as he stands, and before I know it, I'm pressed against the table, his body against mine, his hands gripping my waist. Everything about him is hard, controlled, but there's something underneath that—something raw.

I pull away just enough to catch my breath, my heart pounding in my chest. He's staring at me, his breathing just as heavy, his grip tight on my waist.

"We shouldn't," he says, his voice low and rough.

"I know," I whisper back, but I don't move. Neither does he.

The tension between us feels like it's about to snap, and for a second, I think he's going to pull me back in. But then he takes a step back, running a hand through his hair, breaking the moment.

I stand there, still catching my breath, the warmth of the kiss lingering on my lips. The cards are scattered across the table, forgotten. Everything feels charged, like the air between us could ignite at any second.

"Game's over," he says, his voice steadier now, but there's something behind it—something that wasn't there before.

I didn't win at poker, but as Luca stands there, his intention clear, I realize I'm about to win something much more thrilling.

There's a hunger in his voice that sends a shiver down my spine. The cool air of the room brushes against my skin, pebbling my nipples, but it's nothing compared to the heat radiating off him.

"I'm on the pill," I say, the words coming out in a rush. It's an invitation, a plea, and a dare, all wrapped into one.

He doesn't hesitate. He pulls out his cock, and I stare. It's impressive, thick and hard, straining against his hand. My pulse quickens, and there's a throbbing between my legs that matches the rhythm of my heart.

He pulls off his shirt with one motion, displaying another impressive feature of this beautiful man before me. Tattoos almost completely cover his arms, chest and back. It's impressive and mesmerizing.

His chest is a testament to his discipline, each muscle defined, his skin taut. His tattoos ripple as he moves, a tapestry of shadows and ink that tells a story of loyalty, danger, and a life lived on the edge. His shoulders are broad, powerful, and as he steps forward, I feel small, vulnerable, and ready to be devoured by him.

He lifts me effortlessly, placing me on the edge of the table where we were just playing poker. The cards flutter to the ground, forgotten. He's between my legs, his cock nudging against my entrance, and then with one swift movement, he's inside me.

The sensation is overwhelming. He fills me completely, stretching me in the most delicious way. The sounds of our bodies coming together are obscene, wet and slick, punctuated by sharp intakes of breath and soft moans. Each thrust hits a spot deep inside me, a place that sends sparks of pleasure shooting through my veins.

I come quickly, a wave of ecstasy crashing over me, but it's not enough. I want more. I need more. "Do it again, make me come again. I'm so hot for you," I say through quick, urgent breaths.

As if reading my mind, Luca pulls out, his cock glistening with my arousal. He flips me around, positioning me so that I'm leaning against the table, my ass in the air. He enters me again, this time from behind, and the new angle sends me reeling.

He's relentless, each thrust harder than the last, his hands gripping my hips, holding me in place. I can feel his breath on the back of my neck, his heart pounding against my back. The slap of skin on skin fills the room, a rhythmic chorus of lust and passion.

I'm lost in the sensation, the feel of him inside me, around me, everywhere. I'm teetering on the edge again, teetering on that exquisite precipice, and then I'm falling, my orgasm hitting me like a freight train, my body shaking with the force of it.

Luca isn't far behind. With a final, powerful thrust, he comes, his cock pulsing inside me, filling me with his warmth. He collapses on top of me, his body slick with sweat, his breath ragged in my ear.

We stay like that for a moment, neither one of us wanting to break the spell. Our bodies are spent, satisfaction thrumming through our veins. The intensity of what just happened hangs in the air, heavy and intoxicating .

As Luca pulls away, reality starts to seep back in. But for now, in the aftermath of our passion, there's no room for regret or consequences. There's only the beat of our hearts, the feel of our skin, and the lingering echo of ecstasy.

I wake up to an odd sound, faint but persistent, pulling me out of the heavy fog of sleep. At first, I don't recognize it—a soft, rhythmic tapping, almost too light to matter. My head is pounding, the remnants of too much vodka from the night before, and it takes a moment for me to blink the fuzziness away.

The fire has gone out, and the gray ash is not even smoking, so it has been done for a while. The charred wood hangs on the metal grate like an abandoned building, cold and dark now.

Beside the fireplace are a pair of bare feet extending out of the thick, wool blanket covering a lump. Luca is in the club chair, his legs sprawled out on an ottoman, covered with a thick wool blanket. He looks uncomfortable, crammed into that chair, but it was his choice. He could have gone to his bed if he wanted to. A small tug of guilt pulls at me.

I shouldn't feel bad.

The room is still dim, but there's a faint glow outside—the sun is just beginning to rise, casting a pale light through the windows. It's early, and the snow outside reflects the light, making everything seem brighter than it really is. The balsam fir tree in the corner is lit again, its twinkling lights catching my eye. That's how I know the power's back on .

I sit up slowly, the blanket slipping off my shoulders. My head throbs in protest, and I run a hand through my tangled hair, groaning under my breath. I should get up, maybe grab some water or coffee before Luca wakes up and starts grumbling about how much of a headache I am.

Then I hear it again. The sound. That soft tapping, almost like… knocking.

I frown, looking toward the door. It's not loud enough to be someone banging on the door. More like a polite knock. Maybe it's housekeeping? I remember ordering towels last night before the power went out.

I glance over at Luca again, still dead to the world in that ridiculous position, then decide to get up and answer the door. No point in waking him up for something as simple as towels.

As soon as my bare feet hit the cold wooden floor, I regret not grabbing my slippers, but I push forward. The sound comes again, soft but insistent.

I reach for the door, still a little groggy, and turn the handle. "I'll take the?—"

Before I can even finish the sentence, a black leather glove covers my mouth, silencing me. " What the fuck," I mumble through the hand pressed against my face.

I don't even have time to react before I'm pulled through the door, my feet barely skimming the floor as someone drags me out into the hall. The door clicks shut behind me, almost too softly, like this has been planned for a long time. The panic hits me like ice, my body reacting too late. I thrash, trying to scream, but the glove muffles any sound I make .

I can't breathe. I can't move.

The sun's weak light filters through the windows at the end of the hall, and I catch a glimpse of the snow-covered world outside. Everything looks so calm, like even it is oblivious to an intruder pulling me away from what should have been a safe space.

I wake up with a bitter, metallic taste in my mouth. My head throbs, my vision blurs, and for a moment, I don't know where I am. It feels like my brain is trying to swim through thick mud, everything foggy and disconnected.

I try to move, but my wrists are bound tight behind me. My ankles, too. The ropes bite into my skin with every shift, sending a sharp, stinging pain through me. My feet are freezing, bare against the cold concrete floor, and when I try to scream, nothing but a muffled cry escapes. My mouth is bound, a gag pulled tight against my lips.

What the hell happened?

I force myself to breathe, to calm the rising panic clawing at my chest. I close my eyes, trying to remember. I can still feel the imprint of the hand on my mouth—that leather glove.

And then it hits me. Chloroform. That's what it must have been. That bitter taste, the way everything went dark in an instant. The last thing I remember is the back door of the lodge opening, and then… nothing. Just darkness.

I rack my brain, trying to pull more memories from the fog, but it's no use. I was dragged out, and whatever drug they used knocked me out before I even had a chance to fight.

I open my eyes, blinking against the dim light, and take in my surroundings. The air is cold, biting at my skin. I'm in some kind of warehouse—large, empty, and abandoned. Metal shelves line the walls, rusted and bare, and the floor beneath my feet is wet, slick with puddles that reflect the faint light filtering through broken windows.

The smell of oil and damp concrete fills my nose, making me gag. Everything here feels wrong. The space is vast, but it's dead silent. I twist in my chair, but the ropes hold firm, digging deeper into my wrists with every movement.

My breath quickens as I try to scream again, but the gag muffles the sound. Where's Luca? Does he even know I'm gone? My mind spins, but it's like trying to piece together a puzzle with half the pieces missing. I can't remember anything after that hand clamped down over my mouth.

I pull harder at the ropes, feeling the burn against my skin, but nothing gives. The panic rises again. My heartbeat thuds in my ears, louder than the eerie silence around me.

The warehouse feels like a tomb. Cold, empty, and forgotten.

What am I going to do?

I take a deep breath, forcing myself to think, to calm down. But all I can feel is the cold creeping into my bones and the fear tightening its grip around my chest.