Broken Promise by M. James
Sofia
Half of the rooftop has always been the pool and wet bar, and the other half has a fireplace and pit with lounge seating and tiki torches. But at some point, the part of the roof dedicated to the fireplace and lounge has been transformed.
The fireplace is lit, crackling merrily, and all of the seating has been removed. Instead, there’s a thick rug spread out over the wood surface of the deck, with an iron café-style table and two chairs set on it. There are candles in the center and place settings ready for the guests to sit. All around the fireplace and surrounding the edge of the deck, planter boxes full of flowers have been brought in so that there’s an explosion of color. The air is full of the scent of them, the entire scene lit up by twinkling fairy lights strung all around. It looks like the pictures I’ve seen of outdoor Parisian cafes, except this one is just for us.
Just for Luca and me.
He’s standing by the fireplace, dressed immaculately in a bespoke suit, and I can hear string music playing faintly from somewhere. He smiles as I manage, somehow, to start walking towards him despite my utter shock.
I was right, after all. This is the most ridiculous, fairytale-like, over-the-top date I could possibly have imagined. It’s not dinner and a movie, for sure. But I don’t care. I feel completely blown away, and when I stop in front of Luca, all I can do is stare up at him.
“You did all of this?” I manage finally, my voice a whisper. “For a—date?”
“Well, I had someone come in and do it,” Luca says, the corners of his eyes crinkling in a smile. “But yes. I told them what I wanted. Do you like it? And the dress?”
“Yes—yes, of course,” I manage. His green eyes are holding mine, an expression in them almost as if he’s hoping for my approval—which feels insane. Why would Luca care about whether or not I like any of this? He’s always seemed to be the kind of man who goes through life assuming that everyone around him is happy with everything he does. “It’s beautiful. The dress is beautiful.”
“Good.” Luca smiles and reaches for me, pulling me into his arms. I breathe in as I feel them go around me, pulling me up against his strong, hard body, and as he bends down to kiss me, my heart races in my chest.
His lips on mine feel electric, like a million sparks dancing over my skin, and I can’t help myself. I lean up, my arms sliding around his neck, all of my fears and doubts vanishing for the moment. I know they’ll come back, I know that nothing can change how wrong we are for each other, but at this moment, it’s impossible to stop. The smell of flowers and woodsmoke fills my nose, twinkling lights surrounding us as Luca’s hands smooth over the silk of my dress, and I can feel my blood heating with desire as his tongue traces over my lower lip, urging me to open my mouth and let him kiss me more deeply.
I’m gasping by the time he pulls back, the taste of his mouth still on my lips as I look up at him in a daze.
“Dinner will be served in a minute,” Luca says, taking my hand. I can feel my engagement ring pressing into his palm as he leads me towards the small table, the chairs situated so that we’re sitting next to each other instead of across from one another as we take our seats. I look around and catch a glimpse of a black-suited server discreetly across the deck by the wet bar, where he must be keeping the food.
Sure enough, as soon as we sit down, the server brings two small plates and sets them in front of us, along with a bottle of red wine. “Salad with spring greens, goat cheese, prosciutto, and a mustard vinaigrette,” he says in such a serious voice that I almost want to laugh, holding out the wine cork for Luca to sniff.
It’s every bit a five-star restaurant experience—but on a private rooftop, all to ourselves. “This is just like the outdoor restaurants I wanted to go to in Paris,” I say softly as I pick up my fork. “It’s like something out of a movie or a fairy tale.”
“I know,” Luca says, glancing over at me. “I asked Ana what an ideal date for you would be, considering our—limitations right now. What I could possibly do without leaving the apartment. And she told me about your plans to go to Paris after graduation. Plans which, of course, our marriage ruined.”
He sounds almost apologetic. I can’t quite wrap my head around it as he pours the wine for us, the lights glinting off of the glass as he hands it to me. “So you tried to bring Paris to me?” It sounds ridiculous, but after all, why not? Luca has more money than God. He can do anything he wants. And for some reason, after everything, he decided he wanted to do this for me.
“Yes.” Luca watches me for a moment. “I’ve never done this before, you know.”
I blink at him, momentarily confused. “Have dinner on a rooftop?”
“No.” Luca laughs. “Go on a date.”
“What?” To be fair, I’ve only ever been on a few, but I know Luca’s past. He’s slept with more women than an army of men, and he’s never been on a date? “How is that possible?”
“I don’t date,” he says simply. “I know you don’t want to hear about all the women I’ve been with. I’m not saying this to rub that in your face. But all of those women were ones I picked up. Someone I saw at a gala, who caught my eye at a bar, who sat across from me at the theater. I never had any trouble finding women who wanted to go out with me, but I’ve never taken one out on a date.”
“Not to dinner? Not out to drinks?” I can’t wrap my head around it. “This is seriously the first date you’ve ever been on?”
“Yes.”
Of all the things I’d thought he might say to me tonight, that hadn’t been one of them. “You know this isn’t exactly a normal date, right?”
“I guessed as much,” Luca smirks. “But I’m not a normal man.”
“I know.” Boy, do I ever. “So I was a virgin, and you were a virgin at—dating?” I laugh then. I can’t help it. “What a pair we make.”
“It could be worse.” Luca’s mouth twitches as he pushes my wine glass towards me. “What do you consider a normal date?”
“Dinner somewhere that isn’t too expensive. Burgers, maybe. A movie. Or depending on where the relationship is, pizza at home and watching something on tv. Or playing a board game, maybe.” I shrug. “At least, that’s what I’ve seen with Ana and her boyfriends. I’ve only ever been on a few dates. I’m not exactly an expert either.”
“Well. Maybe we can learn together.” Luca picks up his glass. “What should we toast to on our first date?”
I’m completely speechless. I lift my glass, but I can’t find a single word.
“To trying,” Luca says softly, touching his glass to mine, and my heart flutters in my chest in a way that it never has before.
I take a sip of the wine. It’s delicious, rich and fruity, just the right amount of dry, and as I spear a bite of my salad with my fork, I consider what this could turn into. What life with a man like Luca could be if I let myself enjoy it.
It’s clear that there’s no easy way out of this. Even if Rossi and the Bratva both were no longer a threat, Luca has made it clear that he doesn’t intend to easily let me leave. And after last night, I know that he’ll be even less inclined to do that.
After last night, I’m no longer so sure that I want to leave.
The food is delicious, better than anything I’ve ever tasted, except for maybe the food at our wedding. But that might as well have been made of sand for how little I enjoyed it—I barely even remember what was served. I can feel myself relaxing little by little as the server brings the next course, a collection of small plates with various foods on them.
“I told them to do a tasting menu of things you might order in Paris,” Luca says, sliding one of the small plates towards me. “Quail with blueberry sauce. Duck with orange. Salmon braised with lemon. Scallops in butter.”
I reach for my fork, but instead, Luca digs into the quail breast, taking a forkful of the delicate meat and holding it up to my lips. I blink at him, momentarily startled, but I obediently open my mouth, letting him slide the fork almost sensually into my mouth. “What do you think?” he asks softly, his green eyes never leaving my face.
“It’s delicious,” I manage. My heart is racing again, my skin tingling. He’s so close to me, close enough that I can feel the warmth of his skin and smell the scent of his cologne, like fresh salt air and lemons. I want to breathe him in, to lean past the forkful of scallops that he’s holding out to me and kiss him, with blueberry on my tongue and red wine on his.
Is this how it feels to fall for someone? Our fights, the humiliating night before our wedding and the way I rebelled so fiercely against everything he’s done, the fear of our wedding night and my anger all feel a million miles away. I can’t remember why I felt any of those things. I’m overcome by stars and twinkling lights, the rich taste of food that melts on my tongue washed down by expensive wine. Luca’s bright green eyes searching my face, for all the world looking as if he’s begging me to give him a chance.
I don’t understand why. Why the change of heart? But it’s hard to ask that when I can feel my own heart shifting, opening up to him despite myself.
By the time the dessert course arrives, I feel as if I’d do anything for him to kiss me. The server sets the marble tray in front of us, covered in strawberries, cheeses, and small pots of crème brulee and chocolate mousse. Luca picks up a strawberry, holding it up to my lips, and as he places it on my tongue, his fingertip brushes over my lower lip.
I make a small sound, and I feel his hand on my knee, sliding up under my skirt as he slides a strawberry into his own mouth, his full lips sliding over the fruit and reminding me of his mouth on me last night, kissing between my legs until I lost myself in pleasure like I’d never felt before.
A teaspoon of chocolate mousse is the next thing he feeds me. With every bite, his hand creeps up my thigh, his fingertips trailing up my soft skin until I feel breathless with desire, aching for him to touch me.
“Here,” Luca says, handing me the spoon. “I want to eat my own dessert.”
He winks at me, and for a wild second, I think that he’s going to slide under the table and up my skirt, but instead, he just reaches for his own pot of mousse, watching me between bites as his fingers finally reach the top of my thigh, brushing over the front of my panties as I almost choke on a bite of brulee.
“Oh,” he murmurs softly. “Lace. My favorite.”
I can’t stop the moan that slips out as his fingers slide under the edge of the thong. “You’re so wet,” Luca says in a low voice. “You must have wanted this so badly.”
Nervously, I glance over my shoulder to make sure that the server isn’t watching, biting my lip hard as Luca’s fingers trail over the outer edge of my pussy.
“Don’t worry, he can’t see us,” Luca says quietly. “As long as you don’t make any noise, he won’t even know what’s happening.”
Oh god.I know exactly what he’s planning then. For a brief second, I consider telling him to stop, even though I don’t have the slightest idea if he actually would. But the truth is that I don’t want him to.
I feel like I’m in some kind of wild fantasy, Luca’s fingers sliding upwards as I taste burnt sugar and cream on my tongue, his index finger teasing the tip of my clit as I gasp, trying to stay silent as he presses down, rubbing in small circles that grow faster and faster. And all the while, he keeps eating his dessert, as if I’m not slipping towards the edge of having an orgasm out here in the open, on the rooftop.
“Mmm,” he groans as he takes another bite. “So delicious, don’t you think?” He glances sideways at me, clearly expecting an answer just as he slides two fingers knuckle-deep into my pussy, curling them upwards as I stifle a moan, clenching around him as my body spasms with pleasure.
“Don’t you like it?” He smiles, thrusting his fingers into me again as I swallow hard, unable to speak. If I say anything, I know I’m going to moan or scream, on the verge of such an uncontrollable pleasure that I don’t know how I’ll contain it when I finally do come.
“Yes,” I manage to whimper somehow. “Yes, it’s—it’s so—oh god, it’s so good—” I can hear the words tumble from my lips, breathless—just as the server walks towards us.
Oh, fuck.Surely Luca is going to stop, I think. Surely he won’t keep going with someone standing right next to us. Even though his hand is hidden under the white tablecloth, I can’t imagine how anyone could stand next to me and see my flushed skin and heaving chest and not know what’s going on.
But surprisingly, the server seems oblivious. “Do you need anything else?”
“Maybe more wine,” Luca says, his fingers still moving inside of me as he rubs my clit faster, and I realize with horror that he’s intentionally pushing me towards an orgasm. “What would you suggest? Maybe a port while we finish dessert?”
“A port would be perfect, sir. I’ll bring it right over.”
“Luca, please—” I gasp as the server walks away. “Please—”
“Please, what?” His eyes are glittering wickedly. “Do you want to come?”
Yes. Oh god, yes.I want to come more than anything I’ve ever wanted in my entire life. I’m both so close and too far away to the edge.
Luca presses down on my clit, his fingers moving against that sensitive spot deep inside of me, and I stifle a cry. “You can come whenever you like,” he murmurs. “But I’m not going to stop, even when he comes back.”
I feel an electric rush wash over me, my heart pounding so hard that I think it must be visible beneath the thin silk of my dress, and I don’t know why I’m suddenly more turned on than I’ve ever been in my entire life. I can feel myself on the verge of tumbling over, and just as the server returns with the bottle and two smaller glasses, Luca flutters his thumb over my clit, and I’m lost.
I don’t know how I stop myself from moaning. I bite down on my lower lip hard, grinding down onto his hand as I grip the edge of my seat, pushing myself against his fingers as I feel wave after wave of pleasure rush over me. I can feel it down to the marrow of my bones, the orgasm building and crashing over me. Somehow even as I squirm on Luca’s fingers, orgasming helplessly, the server doesn’t miss a beat.
“Will there be anything else?”
I’m panting, red-faced, and I know that there’s no way he doesn’t know what’s going on. And somehow, that turns me on even more.
“No,” Luca says calmly, his fingers still hooked inside my pussy so that I can’t even squirm away, dragging the orgasm out. “You can go, actually. Raoul will have your gratuity.”
“Very good, sir.”
Luca doesn’t let go of me until the door closes behind the server, and we’re alone on the rooftop. And then he pushes his chair back, sliding his hand out from under my skirt, and to my shock, he raises his fingers to his mouth.
Oh my god. My billionaire, mafia-don husband is sitting across from me, licking me off his fingers with the same expression on his face that I saw when he was eating dessert. I’m the furthest thing from turned off that I’ve ever been. If anything, I’m just as desperate for him as I was before, even though he just made me come even harder than last night.
I glance down and see that he’s visibly, obviously hard, his cock pressed against the front of his suit trousers in a thick ridge that makes my mouth go dry, remembering how he’d felt inside of me last night.
As if he’s reading my mind, Luca reaches down for his fly, dragging his zipper down and reaching to pull out his cock. His hand wraps around the length of it, stroking once as his eyes rake over my body.
“Take off your panties,” he says, and I feel like I can’t breathe.
“I—”
“Now, Sofia.” There’s that dark, smoky edge to his voice that I remember from last night, and there’s no way on earth that I could say no to him in this moment. I never in my wildest dreams imagined myself doing anything like this. Still, as I look at the gorgeous man sitting next to me, casually stroking himself as he looks at me like I’m the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, all I want to do is exactly what he asks.
Mutely, I stand up, pushing up my skirt so that I can reach up and slide my thong off. “What should I do with it?” I whisper breathlessly, and Luca’s eyes darken when he sees the scrap of lace in my hand.
“Put it on the table. Raise your skirt, and spread your legs so that I can see you.”
I’m not supposed to want this. I’m a good girl. I got good grades, read Pride and Prejudice instead of trashy romance novels. I like rom-coms. This isn’t supposed to turn me on. But it is. I’m completely lost in the sound of Luca’s voice, sliding over my skin like the silk of the expensive dress he bought me, and without hesitating, I do as he said.
I don’t just obey, either. I don’t know what possesses me to slide my skirt up slowly, even seductively, spreading my thighs a little wider with every inch so that Luca has to wait the tiniest bit. I feel powerful at the look on his face, an expression of impatient lust, but he doesn’t tell me to go faster. He likes this, I realize as I inch the flowered silk up, and when I finally slide it high enough that he can see my bare, glistening pussy, he groans aloud.
“Just stay like that for a minute,” Luca murmurs, his voice raspy with desire as he starts to stroke a little faster, his hand squeezing the thick length of his cock. “Fuck, you’re beautiful, Sofia.”
I don’t know what comes over me. But when I see the look on his face, I suddenly want to please him. And more than that—I’m turned on too, my body hot with desire. I can feel how wet I am without even touching myself, and when I reach down, sliding my fingers along my pussy, I moan aloud at the barest touch. I’m so aroused I can’t help it.
“Fuck, Sofia—” Luca moans, his eyes widening, and it only makes me braver. I spread myself open with two fingers, letting him see my pussy even more, my aching clit visible as I rub one finger over it.
“That feels good,” I whimper, the words slipping out before I can stop them, and Luca’s jaw tightens as he squeezes his hand around his cock.
“I need you,” he whispers. “Come sit in my lap, Sofia. I need my cock inside you now.”
As if in a dream, I stand up, holding my skirt up with one hand as I swing my leg over him. The chair is just high enough with my heels on that my feet touch the ground. I leverage myself atop him, our lips just a breath apart as I feel him angle his cock between my thighs, the head slipping against my drenched flesh.
I’m in control, I realize suddenly. I’m the one on top, and as Luca looks at me hungrily, his free hand tangling in the loose curls of my hair, I throw all caution to the wind.
I want him. And I’m not going to fight it.
I lean forward to kiss him, my hand curving around the back of his head at the same moment that I slide down onto his lap, taking every inch of his cock into me as I moan aloud, my thighs tightening on either side of his.
And god, it feels so fucking good.
