Chapter 137: Chapter 137
REINA
The apartment wrapped around us like a cocoon the moment the door clicked shut.
Everything outside ceased to exist. No streetlights, no distant city hum, no Elisa. Just the heavy, charged silence between two people who had been dancing around this moment for far too long.
Paolo turned to me slowly in the dim light. His eyes looked tired, but beneath that exhaustion burned something darker and more urgent. He stepped closer without a word, his presence swallowing the space around me.
"Come here," he said, voice low and rough.
I went to him.
His hands settled on my waist first, warm and possessive, before sliding around to my lower back and pulling me firmly against his body. The first kiss was slow, almost hesitant, like he was savoring the taste of me. His lips moved gently against mine, testing, exploring. I sighed into the kiss, my hands resting on his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat.
But gentleness didn’t last long.
Paolo’s grip tightened. A deep sound vibrated in his throat as he angled his head and kissed me harder, his tongue sliding into my mouth with growing hunger. Heat flooded through my body instantly. I kissed him back just as fiercely, fingers curling into his shirt, desperate to feel more of him.
We moved blindly toward the bedroom, lips barely parting for breath. My dress was the first to go. Paolo’s fingers found the zipper and dragged it down inch by inch, letting the fabric slip off my shoulders and fall to the floor in a soft heap. He pulled back just enough to look at me, his breathing already uneven.
"Reina..." he murmured, eyes dark with want.
I reached for his shirt, tugging it over his head. My palms met the warm, firm muscles of his chest and shoulders. We kissed again, deeper this time. His mouth trailed down my neck, hot and wet, sucking lightly as his hands unclasped my bra. The lace fell away, and his lips immediately found my breasts, tongue circling one sensitive nipple until I gasped and arched into him.
My hands trembled as I undid his belt. His pants dropped, and I could clearly see how aroused he was — his cock straining hard against his boxers, the fabric tented obscenely. When I palmed him through the material, Paolo groaned loudly, his hips pushing forward into my touch.
We tumbled onto the bed together.
Clothes disappeared completely. First my panties, then his boxers. There was nothing left between us. Skin against heated skin. His body covered mine as he settled between my thighs. I could feel his thick erection pressing against my slick folds, hot and heavy.
Paolo rocked slowly against me, sliding the blunt head of his cock up and down my wetness, teasing my swollen clit with every deliberate pass. Pleasure sparked through me with each glide. I whimpered, lifting my hips, silently begging for more.
He braced himself on his elbows above me, eyes locked onto mine. His arms were trembling with the effort of holding back.
"I want you so much," he rasped, voice strained. "I’ve wanted this... wanted you... for so long. God... I... I’ve always craved you in a way I was just too scared, too coward to... fuck!"
He kissed me again — slow, deep, consuming — as he positioned himself at my entrance. The thick head of his cock nudged against me, pressing forward just enough to begin stretching me open. I moaned into his mouth, my nails digging into his shoulders.
This was it.
We were finally here.
My heart pounded wildly. My body ached for him. I could feel him throbbing, so close to pushing all the way inside me.
Then it all broke.
Paolo’s entire body suddenly stiffened violently.
A harsh shudder tore through him.
He jerked back with a choked, guttural sound. His eyes flew wide open in panic as all the color drained from his face.
He gagged once — raw and ugly.
Then he vomited.
Hot and sudden, it splattered directly across my bare chest and stomach. The warm, acrid liquid hit my breasts, ran down my ribs, and soaked into the sheets beneath me.
I froze in complete shock.
"Paolo...?"
He staggered off the bed, one hand clamped desperately over his mouth as another violent heave hit him. He doubled over, retching onto the floor, his naked body shaking uncontrollably. His erection, which had been rock hard only seconds ago, softened instantly.
"I’m sorry—" he choked out between gasps, his voice completely broken. "Fuck, Reina... I’m so fucking sorry..."
His eyes met mine for one fleeting, devastating second — filled with shame, horror, and raw self-loathing.
He didn’t say anything else.
Grabbing his clothes in frantic, jerky movements, he pulled them on haphazardly and bolted from the room. The front door slammed shut with a loud bang. Moments later, I heard the roar of his car engine starting, followed by the screech of tires as he sped off into the night.
I lay there on the bed, completely naked, my skin sticky with his vomit, staring up at the ceiling in stunned silence.
What the hell just happened?
The question echoed loudly in my head.
He wanted me... I know he did. I felt how hard he was. He was right there, about to be inside me. Why did his body react like that?
My chest felt tight, breathing shallow.
Was it something I did? Did I touch him wrong? Did I move too fast? Or was it me... something about me that made him sick?
Tears burned at the corners of my eyes.
He looked at me with so much hunger only seconds ago. How can someone want you that badly and then reject you so violently in the next breath? What is wrong with him? What is he hiding that’s making him fall apart like this?
I touched the sticky mess on my chest with trembling fingers and immediately pulled my hand away.
Why did he run? Why couldn’t he stay and talk to me? Is he ashamed of me now... or ashamed of himself? What if this is the moment everything starts to break between us? What if I can’t fix whatever is destroying him from the inside?
The questions kept spinning, each one more painful than the last.
And what am I supposed to do now? Just wait here like nothing happened?
The silence in the apartment felt suffocating.
After what felt like an eternity, the uncomfortable stickiness on my skin became unbearable. I forced myself up on shaky legs and walked into the bathroom. I locked the door even though no one else was home, then turned the shower on as hot as the water would go.
Scalding streams poured over my body the moment I stepped inside.
I grabbed the soap and began scrubbing furiously — my chest, my breasts, my stomach, my thighs. I scrubbed hard, desperately trying to wash every trace of Paolo’s vomit off my skin. The water turned cloudy as it rinsed the mess away, swirling down the drain in ugly patterns. My skin quickly turned bright red and raw from the heat and the pressure, but I didn’t stop.
Tears streamed down my face, mixing with the hot water.
Quiet sobs escaped me at first, then grew heavier, wracking my entire body as I slid down the tiled wall and curled into myself.
I cried because I still didn’t understand what had just happened.
I cried because the man I loved had looked at me with raw desire one moment and pure horror the next.
And I cried because no matter how hard I scrubbed, I couldn’t wash away the fear that something deep inside Paolo was breaking... and I might not be able to save us from it.
The water continued running long after it had gone cold.
