Chapter 15 #3
“Well, if a man and a woman do not want to make love with every part of themselves, they can find pleasure in touching these more intimate areas,” Giovanni murmured.
The tip of his finger rubbed small circles at the top of her thigh.
Beatrice longed for the finger to trace back over the sensitive flesh of her innermost self, but it didn’t.
Instead, Giovanni held her gaze steadily.
“Beatrice,” his finger kept moving in that maddeningly erotic circle. Beatrice was biting her lip so hard she thought she might make it bleed. “Do you want me to touch you there?”
“Yes!” Beatrice gasped, arching her back to encourage Giovanni’s hand to move closer. “Yes, please.”
Giovanni kissed her lips tenderly. “Tell me if you want me to stop,” he whispered into her mouth.
Beatrice didn’t think he could do anything to make her say those words.
“Please, Gio,” she muttered, pressing her head back into the cushion. “Please touch me.”
It was only one or two seconds, but it felt like an eternity of silence before Giovanni’s warm finger slipped down into the soft wetness between her legs.
“Gio!” Beatrice gasped out his name, the shock of his touch making an overwhelming brightness spill out in her brain like a white spooling thread.
“Do you like that, Bea?” Giovanni’s voice rumbled above her. “Tell me what you feel.”
“I feel a pressure building inside me,” Beatrice gasped, her fingers scrabbling to hold onto the blanket underneath her.
“That’s good,” Giovanni grunted, pressing a hot kiss to her neck. “Just follow that feeling, Bea. I’ll keep touching you and you tell me when it feels right.”
“That!” Beatrice’s eyes flew open. Giovanni’s finger had brushed against a white-hot, vibrating point of complete pleasure, and her whole body jolted upwards like she had been shot. “That feels...oh, God!”
Beatrice flopped backwards as Giovanni’s finger unerringly found that place again, teasing it and pressing it in a tantalizing rhythm that had Beatrice making noises she had never imagined possible.
She could hear herself groaning, feel herself thrusting her hips in reckless abandon, could feel Giovanni’s arm wrapping under her naked behind, drawing her closer, but it was only coming to her dimly as if it was a dream.
The sole focus of her mind at that moment was the unravelling of the bright white thread inside her mind, knowing that, as it unspooled, something spectacular was waiting at the end of it.
“Gio,” she gasped. “Gio, I don’t know what’s happening!”
“It’s all right, amore,” Giovanni’s voice was whispering to her, guiding her on. “Let go, amore, give in, it is all right.”
Beatrice did. Moaning and sputtering her pleasure, she felt as if an explosion were taking place inside her.
Starting at that magnificent magical point of touch that Giovanni had found and rushing through her legs and up through her chest; she was washed away on it like a ship on the shore.
She was vaguely aware of Giovanni pressing her close to him, stroking her and shushing her, whispering sweet words as her heartbeat began to come back down to normal.
“How are you, amore?” Giovanni whispered, brushing his lips against her cheek.
“I have never seen a lady do that at a ball,” Beatrice whispered drowsily, opening her eyes to look up at him. He smiled down at her, the most genuine smile he had given her in days.
“Well, it does not always have so much impact,” Giovanni laughed, pulling her close so her head rested heavily on his arm and he could stroke her hair. “A gentleman has to know what he’s doing and pay attention to the lady.”
“You paid very good attention,” Beatrice chuckled, nuzzling his chest.
“Did you enjoy it?” Giovanni whispered.
“I think you know I did.” Beatrice smiled and looked up at him. “Did you?”
“Oh yes,” Giovanni breathed, tucking her close in the crook of his arm and kissing the top of her head. “You are beautiful, amore.”
“Thank you,” Beatrice whispered drowsily. “So are you.”
“Go to sleep,” Giovanni chuckled, pulling the coverlet down from the bed to pull over them both, letting her drift off to sleep in his arms.
Beatrice was more than happy to oblige. She tried to keep control of her emotions.
Everything Giovanni had shared about his concerns over their relationship still stood.
She didn’t want to get carried away, but it was so hard.
Her body felt like it was flooding with love, so powerful and thorough that it was all she could do not to cry.
She was so happy to be in his arms, knowing she had pleased him. She didn’t want to ever leave.
Just enjoy the moment. No matter what he says tomorrow, you have right now. That’s all that matters.
However, just as sleep was creeping in, as she was being lulled by the gentle thud of Giovanni’s heart, she realized something.
Giovanni called her “amore,” the Italian word for love.
Surely, he would not have said it if he did not mean it.
She let the pleasant hope of that thought lull her to sleep.