Chapter 21 #3
Moving to the edge of the terrace, I rest my hands on the stone and look down at the cliffs. We’re at the villa in Arienzo my family rents every summer. I extended the lease the moment Cecilia told me about her trip. I wanted her to see this place before she left.
Our villa sits at the end of the private road, the highest house. There are no rooftops above us or neighbors pressing in from either side.
“It’s breathtaking, isn’t it?” Cecilia says from behind me. “I don’t think I’d ever get used to this view, even if I lived here.”
Turning, I find her in a vintage-rose dress with long sleeves, a modest neckline, and a slit along her left side that rises high enough to get a reaction out of me. It fits her perfectly.
Her hair falls over her shoulders in loose waves, touching the curve of her chest.
“Yes,” I murmur, my eyes traveling over her as I move closer. “Mi togli il fiato.”
She laughs and shakes her head, knowing it isn’t the view of Il Mar Tirreno or Positano at night taking my breath away.
With a smile, I kiss her. Then I take her hand and lead her to the table, pulling back her chair. Cecilia looks across the terrace, taking in the lanterns I lit around us. I raise the volume of the outdoor speakers, the music no more than background sound.
Over wine and simple food, we talk about everything except what waits for us beyond this night. Tomorrow afternoon, we return to Pisa. She’ll have one more full day there. And the morning after that, she flies back to New York. But in my mind, her leaving is not an ending.
Leaning my head back, I look up at the sky, full of stars.
“All these days together,” Cecilia says, her voice a murmur, “I’ve noticed you look up at the sky a lot.”
I smile when I turn back to her. “My father... He was obsessed with history and astronomy. He even tried to teach me the constellations. These days I can barely name any beyond the obvious, the easy ones.”
Lifting my eyes again, I continue. “I’ve always been drawn to the vastness of it. To something that feels so close... and yet impossibly distant.”
The way you once were, I think.
Then, looking at her now, I add in a hushed voice, “The tattoo on my arm... it’s for him.”
“Oh.” She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “I wondered if it meant something.”
I nod. “It’s Scutum. It was one of his favorites because of what it stands for. Defense. Protection. A place of safety. He used to say family should be exactly that: choosing your people. Protecting them by becoming the place they call home.”
Touching the ink on my left bicep, I explain the rest. “I got the tattoo not long after he died. The shield came first. And I added the shadow and the small points, like stars, around it after my mother passed.”
Cecilia laces her fingers through mine. “It’s beautiful. And the meaning behind it even more so.”
She lifts my hand and presses a soft kiss to my knuckles. My heart stumbles as I bring her hand to my lips and kiss her wrist, holding her gaze.
While we eat, we make plans for tomorrow: Naples in the morning, then Pisa only hours later.
Recognizing the song playing, I rise and pull her up with me.
“This song always makes me think of you,” I murmur near her ear as the blended voices of Andrea Bocelli and Edith Piaf fill the night with La Vie en Rose.
I start the track again and pull her closer, one hand resting at the small of her back, the other keeping our fingers laced over my heart as I guide her into a slow sway. When the chorus comes, I speak the lyrics to her, meaning every word.
And then I lean in and translate them into her ear, tracking how she reacts to every line... her body moving with mine, her breathing changing.
“When she holds me in her arms
When she speaks to me softly
I see life through rose-colored glasses
She speaks words of love to me
Everyday words
And that does something to me”
“I would trade rose-colored glasses for blue ones,” I whisper as I turn us slowly, “since blue has been my favorite color from the first moment I saw you.”
Cecilia lifts her face to mine. “Because of my eyes?”
“No,” I murmur. “Don’t get me wrong, your eyes are stunning. But it was the dress you were wearing in the Hamptons.”
An image that will never leave me.
She nods, smiling. “I’d never heard you speak French before.”
I kiss her forehead. “We can change that,” I tell her. “From now on.”
I let the song begin again and continue to murmur the lyrics into her ear as I guide her across the terrace. The music changes, but we don’t stop moving. We’ve found our own rhythm, one that doesn’t require sound.
My hand traces an unhurried path along her back before gripping her waist. She rises onto her toes and kisses me.
And when we part for air, I stay where I am. My gaze locked with hers, seeing my desire reflected in her need. Without a word, I lace my fingers through hers and lead her toward the daybed.
I peel away her clothes, taking my time with each layer. My fingers trace her skin, committing every curve and contour to memory as I explore her body in the dim, golden glow of the lanterns surrounding the daybed.
Her body reacts, a shiver running through her as the coarse edge of my beard brushes her sensitive skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.
My lips trail down her shoulder, lingering just long enough to coax a breathless moan before I bite down, hard enough to mark, gentle enough to keep her close, leaving a reminder on her skin that in this moment, she belongs to me.
I ease her down onto the daybed and catalog every shadow and curve. Claiming her mouth, I drink her in like a man starving. My hand captures her breast, molding the soft curve, pinching her nipple just the way I know she likes.
Lowering my head to take her into my mouth, I suck hard on her nipple as her body shudders beneath me. I trace a wet path down her ribs, dipping into the curve of her navel until I reach her most sensitive point.
I spread her open, exposing her glistening pussy to my gaze. A breath escapes me, teasing her damp skin, before I taste her. Dio, she tastes incredible. A unique sweetness that makes me forget everything else beyond her.
“I want to drink every drop of you,” I growl against her skin.
I take her clit into my mouth and suck intently, finding a cadence that drives her wild, alternating between the tease of my breath and the pull of my lips. She arches off the cushion, offering herself to me, silently asking for more.
Her moans shatter into desperate, fractured sounds. She drags my face closer by my hair, her palm sliding over my beard as I devour her.
“Alexander, please, please...”
Her thighs lock tight against my ears, her breathing frantic. She is close, but I show her no mercy. I increase the pressure, my tongue lashing faster, chasing the erratic thrum of her pulse as I sink two fingers inside her, thrusting at the same pace as my tongue on her clit.
She breaks with a breathless cry that tears through the night. I lock my hands on her hips, holding her to my mouth, relentlessly swallowing her release as she pulses against my lips. I refuse to let her come down, chasing the tremors and prolonging the high until she’s gasping for air.
I press my lips to her skin, moving upward. She rises, her hands frantic, tearing at my shirt, shoving the fabric off my shoulders, pushing my pants and briefs down in one desperate motion.
I reach into my pocket, my fingers closing around the foil packet. I pull it out and set it on the table beside us.
Gripping Cecilia by the back of her neck, I pull her into a hard kiss before turning her around. She kneels on the cushions, tense with anticipation. The night breeze whips hair across her face, and she doesn’t move to clear it.
I bury my face in the curve of her neck, breathing her in. Bergamot blossom and that honeyed warmth that intoxicates me.
I slide my cock between the smooth curves of her ass, grinding against her.
“Let the stars witness this,” I growl into her ear, my lips brushing her shoulder. “Let them see exactly how much I burn for you.”
I bite down on the sensitive curve of her neck, savoring the shiver that ripples through her. “You make me lose control, and I’m done pretending I have any left.”
“I want you too, Alexander,” she gasps, her voice thick with need. “More than I ever thought possible.”
“Sei la mia rovina, Cecilia,” I whisper hoarsely. “You are my ruin.”
I press my hand on her shoulder, guiding her forward until her chest meets the cushions.
I take a moment to admire her, exposed and waiting. My hands trace her spine, forcing her to arch, molding her body to fit my need.
Hooking her ankle, I push her knee toward her chest and sink two fingers into her, feeling her breath hitch. She twists beneath me, struggling as my fingers fill her.
I drop my head, branding her shoulder and neck with my mouth, tasting her skin.
“Stop teasing me, Alexander. Please.”
My fingers twist inside her, finding that sensitive ridge, and she cries out. I bring my palm down hard on her ass cheek, the smacking sound louder than her pleas.
She snaps her head back to look at me, her eyes wide and glowing.
“Lift your hips,” I command, my voice gravelly.
She straightens her leg and arches up. My hands shake slightly, adrenaline surging, as I tear open the packet and roll the condom down my cock.
I position myself, the thick head pressing against her entrance. I hold back for a split second, letting the pressure build.
“Alexander...” she whimpers, pushing back.
I don’t need any more prompting. I thrust into her, and the sensation crashes through me like something meant to break bone. Her gasp mirroring mine.
Even after all these days, each time I enter her, she feels impossibly tight. A piercing mix of pleasure and pain that rips through every nerve ending I have. Her heat swallows me whole, clamping down on my cock as I plunge deeper.
I drive into her with unhurried, relentless strokes. Each movement grinds into her most sensitive spots, drawing shivers from her skin as my body envelops hers.
In and out, I trace the contours of her body: her shoulders, her waist, the curve of her ass. I grip her tightly when I push deep, easing my hold as I withdraw.
The rhythm consumes me, winding every muscle tight.
She turns her head, seeking me out. I catch her hand, lacing our fingers. My vision hazes, and I clench my jaw, fighting for a shred of control, but the growl rips from my chest regardless.
I lean in, curling my hand around her throat, putting pressure there as I pull her up, onto her knees so we are flush against each other.
“This is better,” I growl into her ear, grinding my hips forward to meet hers. “I want you right here.”
I maintain my hold on her throat, keeping her in place while my free hand claims her breast, fingers twisting her nipple.
“Alexander, more. Please, more.”
I give her exactly what she wants, driving into her with a rhythm meant to ruin us. I sink to the hilt, dragging desperate moans from her lips with every thrust.
Her hands scramble up my arms, tangling in my hair to yank my mouth down to hers.
This is my Cecilia. Here, beneath the stars, there is nothing but skin slick with sweat and everything we make each other feel.
She clamps down on me, squeezing tight, pushing me close to the brink.
“Come for me, tesoro,” I command, my voice gravelly. “Come for me.”
As I thrust into her with punishing pace, I feel her shudder, the tightness of her body revealing just how close she is to the edge. I want her there. No, I need her there.
Each thrust is calculated, hitting her exactly where she needs. My grip tightens on her throat, while my other hand explores her, circling and pressing in all the ways that push her past her limits.
Her body arches, straining the thin line between pain and pleasure. Her thighs tremble, spine curving as she gasps incoherent words.
“Let go for me again,” I whisper into her ear.
As I take her mouth on mine... Cecilia shatters.
Every muscle in her body contracts as she moans loudly, her heat clamping around me so tightly it’s almost unbearable. I can’t hold back. I press her forward, guiding her down while staying buried to the hilt, slamming my hips into her with brutal thrusts that shake the daybed beneath us.
My vision narrows as she pulls me under. My own orgasm crashes over me. White-hot and consuming. I throw my head back, teeth gritted, sweat stinging my eyes as I lose myself in the raw intensity of what we’ve created.
Disoriented, I collapse forward, keeping us connected, her back pressed flush against my chest. My body instinctively wraps around hers, shielding her, both of us exhausted and shaking.
Every remaining shudder that ripples through her sends a jolt of satisfaction through me.
I pull out of her, and she shivers. Once I’ve gotten rid of the condom, I shift us onto our sides, tightening my hold as I keep her tucked close to me.
My hand finds the throw blanket, pulling it up to cocoon us from the cool breeze. My fingers roam along her ribs, lightly caressing the faint red marks I’ve etched into her skin, tracing delicate circles until her tremors finally fade.
“I don’t think I can move,” she whispers.
I press a kiss to her temple, inhaling her scent. “Good,” I murmur. “Because I have no intention of letting you go.”
The thought of separating from her feels impossible. I press one last kiss to her hair, making a vow to the night sky.