Page 62 of Alessio

With them.

She belonged with them.

Except this was all on her, and she had to make those choices on her own. It wasn’t something they could do for her. He only controlled what he wanted to do with Corrado, and Ginevra was right. Closer had always been better for Alessio with Corrado. Being together, despite the things separating them, would forever be right when everything else seemed wrong.

Alessio leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to Ginevra’s lips again. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Being you, Ginny.”

Alessio knew exactly how he’d found himself like this—his back straight against Corrado’s leather-wrapped headboard, a hand tight around his throat to keep him pinned in place. Corrado’s mouth worked against his, kissing him hard and deep as his cock fucked him the same way.

Strange, that.

And fucking wonderful, too.

Corrado’s kiss was the same as his beat with every thrust and pull against Alessio’s body. Brutal, and so fucking good. Each snap of his hips had the firm lines of their forms driving against one another. Alessio’s cock, painfully stiff, felt the brunt of their weight, grinding against his length in the best way possible.

It was too much.

It wasn’t fucking enough.

How long had it been since the two of them were like this? Since Alessio just woke up in the night, needing Corrado? Far too long, he realized. He’d understood that better than ever tonight when he woke up, alone again, in a bed that didn’t belong to him. Like one side was far too empty, and he needed to fix it.

Nothing was ever right like that.

He could still remember the cold floors chilling the pads of his feet as he drifted through the penthouse, needing to find that thing he’d been missing. Corrado, Corrado, Corrado. It had become a mantra in his mind, until he slipped into Corrado’s room, then his bed, and finally … this.

“Too long,” Corrado mumbled against his mouth.

His thrusts were coming faster, now.

Harder, too.

Like the hand at Alessio’s throat, those fingers tightening and loosening almost rhythmically. His voice was fucking hoarse, so deep, full of air and lust and love. He’d realized that, too, now. He didn’t need to be told those words to know they were true.

They were words.

Not actions.

Or behavior.

Or their life.

It was just words.

Alessio had put far too much weight into words, and less trust in the man he had known from the time he was seventeen years old. So, no, he didn’t give a fuck about words.

Not tomorrow.

Not yesterday.

And not right now, either.

“Look at me.”

Alessio’s gaze snapped up, pleasure racing through his bloodstream with every pounding beat of his heart, to find Corrado’s eyes locked on his. His lips hovered above Alessio’s, ragged exhales coming out fast between them, their kiss broken.