13. Georgia
13
GEORGIA
Then
T he stables smelled like hay and leather, with subtle undertones of horse shit and sweat, nearly completely drowned out by the sweet fragrance of the lavender bushes just outside and the night-blooming jasmine that lined the walkway to the stone building.
I followed the path, tonight, more than other nights, eager to reach my destination.
I smoothed my hands down my dress. Creamy white satin. It was ankle-length, and there wasn’t a hint of cleavage at the top, but it clung to my body like a second skin. I didn’t think my father had thought about that scandalous possibility in the cut and material when he’d let me design my own dress for tonight. Cena dei cento giorni. The last dinner for my high school class. Americans called it prom and went all out, or so the movies made it seem, while in Italy, dinner was the focal point. We’d eat together and later go and dance somewhere. School had finished a few months ago, but punctuality had never been my friends’ strong suit.
I’d been Tommaso’s date tonight, since he couldn’t take the guy he’d really wanted to go with.
Now, finally finished, I wanted someone else to see me in my dress.
I crept into the stables. My heels sank into the packed dirt. They were silver with sharp stilettos, and they might even bring me up to Elio’s sternum, if he was barefoot.
I’d been signaling with the little flashlight I kept in my bedroom at the window for a while but had gotten no response. It was our little code. Come to me written in Morse code and expressed with flickers of light. Since there’d been no reply from the stables tonight, I was taking matters into my own hands.
“Cittaiolo?” I whispered into the night stillness. I was here to see my city boy, after all; why else had I bothered with the new dress? The design was mine, but my father had picked the color. Pure as snow, virginal white. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what my father wanted to convey to the village with this dress.
She’s off-limits. No one touches my daughter. Don’t get close.
Unluckily for him, the cittaiolo didn’t care about his rules.
Elio Santori was a rule-breaker by nature. His very existence seemed to bend the fabric of the world itself. No one should be so damn charming and troublemaking all at the same time. No one should make me feel like he did with one slow smirk.
I tried to hide how much he affected me. Playing hard to get was all the rage. Yet, when he cornered me after church or caught me in the kitchen when no one else was around, it was like I was melting. Everything in my life ceased to matter except his touch, his smile, the way his fingers played with my hair.
I was a goner.
“Elio?” I whispered again when the stables remained silent to my call.
I advanced, checking out each stable. Sometimes he bedded down in the hay with a sick horse and stayed the night. He was a natural with the animals; it was a shock to find out that he’d never so much as seen one outside the racetrack until he’d come to town.
I reached the end of the aisle that ran between the berths and peeked in the last one.
There he was.
Sun-darkened olive skin glowed in the low lights. His arms, lined with slim muscle, were stretched over his head. His T-shirt had crept up his flat belly, and there was a trail of hair that circled his belly button and ran downward, disappearing into his jeans. I longed to trace it and see where it went. I wanted to see every single part of this boy who had turned my boring life upside down and painted it with brilliant colors.
His face was soft in repose. He was usually scowling at someone, or something, or laughing. His face was lively, expressive as hell. He couldn’t hide his thoughts; they were painted across his brow. Now, his face was slack with sleep, and I got to simply stare, just like I always longed to.
He was classically beautiful. He had the kind of face that would have inspired a marble bust back in the day. My art history teacher would sigh over him if she ever caught a glimpse. A strong jaw and aquiline nose, slightly bumped on the bend, just enough to be intriguing. He was no angel, that was certainly true. He caused too much mischief and mayhem for that comparison to be drawn.
I hovered over him, reaching out a fingertip to lightly trace down his cheek.
I didn’t see the knife coming.
One second, I was bent over, trying to balance in my heels and tight dress. The next, there was a flash of silver and a blade at my neck, and Elio’s hot, hard body pressed against me.
“ Cittaiolo, it’s me. Wake up,” I murmured, my heart racing.
He made a noise. Something between agreement and complaint. The knife remained where it was even as Elio tipped my chin up with his other hand, and his eyes hit mine. Those eyes. If I forgot everything else about this man, surely, I’d never forget that pale-jade stare. Thick dark lashes surrounded those eerily beautiful eyes, and dark winged brows framed them. The man was distractingly good-looking.
“Thank fuck I was only dreaming… For a second there, I thought I was a goner and had arrived at the pearly gates. It’s the dress…” he murmured, leaning back to gaze approvingly at me.
“You thought I was an angel, and you still pulled a knife?” I wondered.
He grinned. “Yeah, well, maybe I could threaten my way into Heaven. It’s worth a shot, right?”
“You’re ridiculous.” Heat crept into my cheeks at the way he was staring at me. He’d drawn back for a better view and now, he continued to stare.
“Hmm, yeah, when it comes to you, I am… and you are—” He broke off and brought his eyes back to mine.
I tipped my chin back and enjoyed his reaction. This was the moment I’d sweated over my sewing machine for over a week for, wasn’t it? I wanted to be seen by him, and every single time, he delivered. That didn’t make it any less thrilling.
“And I’m?” I prompted.
He leaned closer and shook his head slowly, tutting under his breath. “You know what you are… you don’t need me to say it.”
I mirrored his slow head shake. “No, I really don’t.”
He couldn’t know how true that was. Brought up by my father alone since I could remember, always at home, cloistered and spoiled and hidden from the world, I really didn’t know.
He let out a long exhale and ran his finger down my cheek.
“Beneath this skin, a world waits to be discovered.
Beneath this mundane existence, galaxies stir in wonder.
Beneath the frozen river, currents still run.
Beneath stone and concrete, seeds push through ? —
And those seeds can lift whole buildings.”
Elio’s deep voice spoke his words like cool water running down a deep ravine. I drank them all up. They ran into my lonely, parched soul, and sated it.
“And?” I urged.
Every single poem in progress that he’d shared with me, he’d ended the same way. It was my favorite ending of every single ending that ever existed.
“And I was hers, and she was mine… and no one could take her from me… and no one ever would.”
I smiled contentedly at him. He slid the finger he had on my cheek down my neck and past my collarbones, weakening my knees. Lately, kissing hadn’t been enough to satisfy either of us. I wanted more, and I knew Elio did, too. Every kissing session we indulged in brought us closer and closer to crossing the line between us.
One thing that Elio didn’t know was how badly I wanted to cross that line. I wanted to erase it.
“It was my cena dei cento giorni tonight,” I told him, shivering under his touch but not wanting to lose it.
“Oh, I know.” His eyes were decidedly hot and bothered by my dress.
“You did?”
He nodded lazily. “Why do you think I’m not in bed?”
“A sick horse?”
“I’m waiting around to see what time that motherfucker you hang around with brings you home at.”
I laughed. “What motherfucker? Tommaso?”
Elio nodded. “Mm-hmm, the one your father likes. The good boy. The suitable choice.”
I rolled my eyes at him. “Please, the jealousy is so childish. We’re best friends. He’s like a brother to me.”
“No, he’s not, and I can guarantee that he doesn’t think like that,” Elio said shortly and pushed a hand through his flopping waves.
I couldn’t out Tommaso’s secret to Elio, no matter how much I’d love to reassure him that he had nothing to worry about from my best friend.
“I don’t care what my father thinks… don’t you know that by now?” I changed the subject. I stroked his face and stared into his eyes.
“Sage green. One day, I want to paint our bedroom sage green,” I murmured. “Just like your eyes.”
“Why?” Elio murmured.
“It makes me feel safe. It makes me feel… everything,” I admitted with a sigh. I was starting to feel that if I didn’t touch him, I’d die.
I tugged at the hem of my dress, pulling it up so I could swing a leg over Elio’s lap and straddle him.
His eyes went darker than the blackest coal as I settled my weight on him.
“What are you up to, topolina ?” His warm murmur was more than half growl.
“What does it feel like?” I asked, mock innocence painted across my face. I knew exactly what I wanted, and it was this man. I wanted all of him. I wanted to end my youth right here, tonight, on the floor of the stables, with the man who would take me from this hopeless backwater. The man I’d face the world beside. We were meant to be, I knew it in my bones.
“It feels like you’re playing with fire.” Elio flexed his hips beneath me.
He was hard. The long, probing length of him was pressing against me through his rough jeans. My whole body shuddered.
I simply nodded, biting my lip. I wriggled my hips on his lap, rubbing my needy pussy on his bulge. I could probably come just like that, humping his jean-clad hard-on like it was a pillow in my bed. I had one that was just the right shape, but it was nothing compared to the real deal.
“Georgia,” Elio warned. He grabbed my chin in a firm grip and stopped my lazy gyrations.
I blinked back into focus and took in his dark, possessive gaze.
“ Topolina , you’re not the kind of woman a man fucks casually.” His eyes searched mine.
“You don’t want me?” I asked.
“I was born to want you. I will always want you. I will live every day wanting you and I will die that way, too. Wanting you is in my blood. It is my legacy to want you… but I want more than tonight. I want forever.”
The hand holding my chin slid up my cheek and sank into the hair behind my ear, his grip holding my face in place, so near his.
“I want you to marry me, Georgia. Be my wife, and I will give you everything you want. I will save you every day. I will dedicate my life to your happiness. Marry me.”
“Marry you? Everyone will say we’re too young,” I protested, my mind reeling.
“I don’t care.”
“You don’t have to say that… for me to want to… you know,” I muttered, heat warming my cheeks.
Elio chuckled, so low and gruff goosebumps swept up my arms and over my chest. I was so cripplingly aware of him: his touch, his scent, his voice.
“On the contrary, you do have to agree for anything to happen,” he said. “I told you that you’re not a woman to fuck casually, you’re a woman to wait for, and to marry… We’ll fuck as a couple about to get married or not at all.”
“Why?” I wondered at his dogged insistence. Most young guys I knew wanted to hook up and definitely not get a fiancée out of it.
“Because, I can’t take having you just for one night. If I have you, I need to know it’s forever. Anything else would break me.”
His quiet confession felt sacred somehow. An admission of weakness from the strongest guy I knew.
“I’ve fallen in love with you, Georgia, and I’m not a man who intends to love like this more than once. I need to marry you like I need air to breathe. I don’t have much of anything right now, but I swear, I’ll give you a good life. I’ll find a way to give you what you deserve.”
I didn’t know what to say. My heart swelled; my skin flushed with fire. I couldn’t breathe. Thoughts were racing through my head, and yet above the din, there was one word that emerged above all else.
Yes .
I leaned in and kissed him, sliding my tongue over his, and let my hand trail down his flat, packed abs, then to his belt. I tugged at it, showing him my intention.
He gripped my hair and tilted my face back. “Tell me you’ll marry me. Give me your answer,” he demanded.
“Isn’t it obvious?” I asked.
He shook his head slowly, his gaze running over my face. “Not to an unworthy soul like me. I need to hear it.”
I took a deep breath and leapt. “I’ll marry you. I’ll be your wife.”
A smile crept over his face, a blinding sunrise.
“My wife,” he whispered, repeating my words. “I like the sound of that. You will be my wife.”
I nodded, his smile so infectious, I was grinning madly back. “I will be your wife, so why don’t you do your husbandly duties?”
I gave him a wicked smile and pulled his belt free, undoing the top button of his jeans. His breath hitched, his eyes turning even more molten, a feat that shouldn’t have been possible.
“Let’s seal this deal the old-fashioned way.” I delved my hand fearlessly into his unbuttoned jeans.
“What, a handshake?” Elio raised his hips slightly.
I ruthlessly tugged down his boxers and jeans just enough for his cock to spring free. I’d seen one before; I lived in the age of the internet. And yet, the feel of Elio’s, warm and pulsing in my hand, was fascinating. I scooched back, straddling his knees now so I could peer more closely at his dick. He was big, of course; I’d suspected that, given the bulge he showcased in his jeans even when not hard. Big but beautifully formed. I ran my hand up and down the shaft, and his breath caught.
Oh, I liked that. I felt powerful like I never had when I held this man who I loved’s cock in my hand and explored it. Worldly, confident Elio Santori, the cittaiolo , all-knowing city bad boy, didn’t seem so cocky, suddenly. He was hungry… hungry for me.
“Sure, we can shake on it.” I ran my thumb over the slit at the top of his cock and smeared the clear liquid there. “Don’t forget to spit first,” I added and brought my hand to my lips, spitting into my palm, then returning to my indulgent exploration.
He tensed, letting out a tight hiss. He jerked, his cock leaking against my palm. It was so alien and strange-looking, and yet, I couldn’t turn away.
“ Topolina , keep touching me like that, and this isn’t going to last very long.” He caught my wrist.
“I brought protection,” I blurted awkwardly when he maneuvered me to the hay. He’d spread a large blanket under us. The lights were burning low, and it felt like we were the only people in the world.
He moved my dress up my thighs and stopped when my pussy came into sight.
“Tell me you didn’t go to dinner without panties on?”
I giggled. I could feel his hot breath on my skin.
“I only don’t wear panties when I know you’re going to be there.”
He smirked at me. “That’s my girl. Now, let me see that pretty pussy.”
I squirmed beneath his gaze. He was staring right at me, pushing my knees apart so I was spread wide open, with nothing to hide behind.
“Don’t be shy, Georgia. You’re perfect. Everything about you is perfect to me.” He leaned in. “I want to taste you.”
“Taste!” I nearly squeaked.
“You tasted me. It’s only fair,” he murmured.
Yes, that was right. I had tasted him. The salty musk still lived on my tongue.
Then his tongue touched me, and I couldn’t think about anything else.
“You’re so good at this,” I panted, a worrisome thought taking form. Had he had a lot of other lovers?
“I must be a natural since I’ve never done it before,” he said against my skin, seeming to read my mind.
“You haven’t?” I asked breathlessly.
He pulled back, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. He tore the condom wrapper open with his teeth and spoke around it.
“Mm-hmm, I haven’t. I haven’t done any of it… I haven’t really had time to think about it much.” He lowered his hand to his hard-on and rolled the condom down his pulsing shaft. “Besides, I’ve never met anyone I wanted to do this with… until you.”
“Well, likewise.” I smiled up at him.
“Your boyfriend, Tommaso, is going to be disappointed.” Elio positioned himself over me and put the tip of his cock at my entrance.
I laughed. “For the hundredth time… he’s not my boyfriend.”
“Damn right, he isn’t… I am… I’m more than that,” Elio grunted, pushing just inside me.
I was so turned on I couldn’t bear it. I lifted my hips, trying to pull him deeper.
“I’m going to be your husband,” he said and sank deeper inside me.
I cried out at the twin sensations of pain and pleasure meeting. He was so big, it was an invasion I wasn’t nearly prepared for, but somehow the stretch was delicious. It felt primal, like accepting this man who I loved into my body was changing us both. When we were remade, we’d never be the same.
He rested his forehead on mine and pushed in as deep as he could.
“Shit, topolina , being inside you is a holier feeling than being in church.” He kissed me softly. Withdrawing a little, he glanced down and swore.
I followed his gaze. Blood was smeared over the condom.
“Does it hurt? I don’t want to hurt you,” he began.
I grabbed his face, cupping his strong jaw, and shook my head. “It doesn’t hurt. It feels right. Keep going.”
He let out a shuddering sigh as he moved again, sinking back inside me, a jolt of pleasure chasing the tail end of pain away. Slowly, he developed a languid pace, his lithe hips gyrating against mine, his cock rubbing places I’d never known existed inside me.
He scattered kisses across my face. A kiss for my cheeks, another for my eyebrows, most for my jaw.
His hand sank into my hair and tightened, and his pace increased. I moved with him, raising my hips to meet his thrusts. I wanted everything from this man. Every single experience… I wanted it with him.
He stroked my face. “This is my sacrament. The only body I will consume and the only blood I will spill.”
A surge of pleasure shot through me, foreign and unexpected. I gasped, chasing after the elusive feeling. He changed the angle of his hips, hitting me the same way again, his pelvic bone grinding down on my clit.
I cried out, sinking my nails into his arms.
“Are you going to come?” He sounded almost as surprised as I felt.
“I — I don’t know,” I panted, squirming beneath him. “I feel like I’m going to wet myself,” I admitted.
“Go ahead, cara , we’re already in the barn,” he said.
I laughed and slapped his shoulder as he chuckled.
“Hey, this is serious,” I moaned; he somehow managed to catch my clit with every thrust.
“Oh, it is… really fucking serious. I have a new addiction, and it’s being inside you… my soon-to-be wife.” He groaned and fucked me harder.
“Are you going to come?” I asked him back, feeling a difference in his movements.
He nodded. “I can’t stop it… you destroy me, Georgia,” he said, his voice strained.
I couldn’t answer, because pleasure was streaking through me. That odd feeling of pressure returning, I was rising. Rising. And then I fell.
Pleasure I’d never felt burst inside me like an overripe peach, juices spilling, flesh soft and liquid-feeling. Wetness hit my thighs, but it didn’t feel gross. It felt right.
Elio growled in my ear, his hand pulling my head back, baring my throat to his teeth and lips.
“Fuck, you just squeezed me like you were trying to fucking kill me.”
He panted and then shuddered, his whole body going rigid. His hips slammed deep and stayed there. He pulsed inside me. It was hot and wet. Should that happen with a condom? I didn’t care. I wanted to be marked by him forever. Joined in a way that could never be reversed.
That moment there, in the stables, lying on a makeshift bed, the moon shining down outside, full of him, our hearts beating against each other’s, I felt fate press down on us both. He pulled out of me, and I felt him hot and wet across my thighs.
“The condom broke.” He reached down to take it off. “Fuck.”
“I don’t care. I didn’t like it anyway,” I confessed. “I want to feel you… all of you. I’ll go on the pill.”
He stared at me and ran a hand through my hair, then cupped my cheek.
“You do kill me, topolina , you know that? I can’t live without you,” he said, his green eyes staring into my soul.
“Likewise.” I met his unflinching stare.
He nodded and placed a single kiss on my forehead. A sign of worship. Devotion.
He pulled me close then guided my head to his shoulder and spoke softly. “And I was hers, and she was mine… and no one could take her from me… and no one ever would.”