28. Quickies are the best
TWENTY-EIGHT
QUICKIES ARE THE BEST
T he very next day after I invited her over for dinner, I’m finally ready.
My skin buzzes with excitement and the need to tell Vanessa as I make my way home. With theschool holidays just starting, I found a summer school for both ofmy children that will free up Vanessa’s time.
With her nanny duties coming to an end, I think a transition into who she is to me will be easier for Anton and Livia. And for me. Even if they already call her my girlfriend and consider her part of the family, I want to make things right.
When I get to my house, Vanessa is sitting on the couch with Anton under her right arm and Livia under the left. Livia’s head gently rests on Vanessa’s shoulders as she reads them a story. They hang on to her every word.
I stay rooted in place, observing from the corridor and writing the scene in indelible ink in my memory. For the first time in a long time, my stomach doesn’t fall to my feet as I enter my home. My shoulders aren’t heavy like they’re carrying the weight of the world. The usual dark nothingness that looms around every corner of my home takes on a lighter colour, a grey that could almost be white or sandy beige.
Too soon, Vanessa senses my presence and turns her head in my direction, greeting me with a bright smile that illuminates the crevices of my broken soul.
“Hello, Lino,” she says.
She’s taken to calling me Lino in front of the kids for a week now and every time, I cherish the sound.
Vanessa’s pink blush makes my heart rate somersault in excitement. I tamper it down by biting my cheek and turning into the kitchen, occupying my hands so I don’t reach for her. Everything is ready, but I stir the pasta sauce Vanessa made mindlessly.
While my back is turned, she approaches me. Her delicate fingers graze my back in a soft and intimate caress. A delicious shiver travels up my spine. The gesture is simple. Inconspicuous, even. But the feeling of being wanted and cherished is so foreign my throat clogs with an unnamed emotion.
I look down at her. She stands next to me in a beige sundress with cherries embroidered all over it. Little fruits are on every piece of her wardrobe. I’m always wondering which one I will see next, and look forward to each morning when I get to see them. Her hazel eyes shine with adoration as she looks up at me.
I want nothing more than to bend and kiss her soft lips before I breathe in her scent of sugarcane and flowers.
“Anton, Livia, we’ll eat in a few minutes. I need to speak with Vanessa.”
They’re occupied with fake-reading the book, not watching us, and I slide my hand into hers, linking our fingers together.
Without a word, I guide her to the office, leaving the door open in case Anton and Livia need us. It’s reckless, but I need her.
I whirl on her and frame her face into my hands, crashing my lips to hers in a devastating kiss. I haven’t kissed her in just over a month and the high brings me to my knees. I missed how she tastes, how she softens for me, how her body fits into mine.
It’s fast and all-consuming, shutting all doubts away and replacing them with images of her, with her taste and her scent.
She sighs into my mouth and my heart might burst out of my chest with how full of hope it is. Her hands explore my chest, stomach, and ribs with greedy attention before she settles them on my back, trying to get us closer. There isn’t an inch of space between us, but I can feel her desperation, her need. She’s my mirror.
Without opening my eyes or my hands leaving her body, I direct her against the wall, just behind the door, hidden from view, and drop to my knees.
“What are you doing?” she whisper-yells.
With sharp and frantic movements, I bunch her dress at her waist, then lick a path up her inner thighs and kiss her pussy above the fabric of her underwear. She might hesitate, but her hands grasp the material nonetheless, giving me full access to where I want to bury myself.
“I’m starving, zitella . Please let me taste you.” I don’t recognise myself. I’m desperate for her. I need to gorge myself on her taste to satiate the hunger building inside me.
“What about the kids?” she murmurs, sounding uncertain.
“You’ll have to be very quick, and very quiet. But you’ll do that for me, won’t you, zitella ?”
Her pupils darken with lust as she nods.
My hands caress her thick and smooth thighs as I glide them up, then hook the fabric of her panties and drag them down her legs. I pocket them without thought before diving into her sweet cunt.
The sweet tang of her taste explodes on my tongue, and I suppress a groan. I wish I could take my time, bring her to the edge dozens of times, and refuse her what she craves until she begs for it with her sweet whimpers. We’re already pushing our luck. The threat of being discovered by my kids could paralyse me if she didn’t writhe so prettily on my mouth.
“Throw your leg over my shoulder and open for me,” I command in between licks.
Her hips search for more friction with frenzied back and forth motions. With the new position, I gently insert a digit into her pussy while lapping at her clit in a figure of eight loop that drives her mad.
Vanessa grasps my hair in a tight fist while her other hand covers her mouth. Her breathing picks up.
Our gazes lock as I increase the pace with my finger and beg her to come with my eyes. Hers close as she throws her head back and she clamps on the digit, her pussy pulsating with the force of her climax.
She’s stunning, abandon written across her soft features in the most exquisite portrait of pleasure. I regret not having time to luxuriate in this moment and committing all her reactions to memory, though I already know they are engraved in my brain. She’s carving a place under my skin, reaching for the heart. I’ve never been so scared, but I’m helpless to stop it.
I remove my finger from inside her and stand, slipping it into my mouth. I’m not willing to waste a drop of her.
Vanessa clamps her lips shut, but the spark of desire that still resides there shines bright. She stands on her toes and smacks her lips onto mine, licking herself from my mouth, making me painfully harder. Without a shy bone in her body, her hand finds my aching cock, but I stop her.
“I need to touch you, Daddy. Please,” she begs.
I close my eyes to gather myself. We’ve already been gone too long. “Come to me, tonight. They go to bed at eight.”
It’s an order but also a question. It’s everything I told her not to do weeks ago, but I need her like air. And she needs me, too. I haven’t felt genuinely desire for so long. It gets me light-headed and ready to take risks. Whatever I got at the club was a band-aid, a release, a transaction. Nothing like the dizzying newness of what Vanessa and I are creating with stolen kisses and secret trysts.
She beams at me and kisses me again, brief and promising. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she says loud enough for the kids to hear. She kisses them goodbye and leaves with a wink.
I will my cock to soften and lose myself in my parental duty until I see her again. Time flies without me bracing for the upcoming gloom. And the next time I see her, she will know how much I want her.