Chapter 28 #2
Alessio could feel a new and unfamiliar heat rise to his skin.
It tingled and prickled under her touch, sending the blood rushing to his groin.
Then, she brought her lips to his sternum, and there she planted a series of sweet yet deliciously long kisses across his bare chest, eventually finding that chef’s knife tattoo across his left pec.
Alessio’s lungs emptied as her tongue dipped to catch and flick his nipple, which hardened against the soft wetness of her touch.
Overcome by desire for her, Alessio’s hands rose to his temples, searching for a tether to reality.
‘Francesca . . .’ He gasped her name, as if the word alone were tormenting him. ‘Please . . .’
Suddenly she straightened and reached for his hand. Alessio followed meekly as she guided them to the large circular outdoor lounger. Turning, she pulled him down to join her on the soft cushion.
Alessio had never set eyes on a more beautiful woman.
Of that he was sure. But a woman so determined, so confident, so honest and raw .
. .? And now that very woman was coaxing him to join her.
Inviting his passion, his touch, a shared intimacy.
Where he might once have found nerves or reservation, all he could feel was his desire for Francesca: a desire that had been burning brightly since he first laid eyes on her by the trattoria’s front door.
Alessio dipped into a low squat beside the lounger, catching Francesca’s ankles in both hands.
Without breaking eye contact, he slipped off her flat brown leather sandals one at a time, allowing them to drop to the terracotta pavers.
Then his fingers traced intoxicating lines up her calves, and he gently pulled her legs apart.
‘As beautiful as this looks on you,’ he said, gesturing to her dress, ‘I’d much prefer if it were off . . .’
‘Davvero?’
‘Yes. Really.’
Alessio relished watching her eyes hold his as she reached for the ties behind her back, unwrapping the dress from her waist and letting it fall open. It was as if she were a gift to be received.
Francesca lay back on the lounger, her dress splayed out flat underneath her. That deep glow of her Mediterranean skin contrasted against the white of the dress. Appreciating her feminine curves, Alessio longed to pry the intricately laced white bra and matching bottoms from her.
He wanted all of her, and it had to be now.
Undoing the last of his shirt buttons, Alessio tossed the garment to the floor and leaned his way over to Francesca, resting on his propped elbows.
As their skin made first contact and their legs entwined, middles pressed together, he could no longer restrain the pulse which beat her name.
He knew she could feel it press against her, because as he shifted angle she dropped her head back in response and practically purred, ‘Sì . . .’
Leaning to one side, Alessio freed one hand to explore the length of her.
It started in her hair, and he cupped her cheek tenderly once more, lowering his lips to gift her a sweet kiss.
He could feel her breath hitch as his hand moved down over her collarbones, and using a solitary finger, teased the ridge of her left breast.
‘Ale . . .’ She breathed. ‘Ti prego . . .’ And she lifted herself up just enough so that together they could remove her bra.
Alessio tossed it aside and welcomed her warm delicate breast to his mouth.
The scent of her perfume imbued her skin, and it was as if, as his tongue drew her nipple into his mouth, he could taste it.
This was Francesca.
She writhed underneath him, and Alessio savoured the feeling of each reaction she gave to his touch.
He was the reason for her moans, the shy little whimpers, the way she held her breath as he moved to her other breast. And the sensation of her fingers clawing across his back, attempting to pull him closer, to control or tame him, albeit in vain, sent his want for her into overdrive.
‘You are so fucking beautiful. All of you.’ He lapped at her fusillo tattoo with the tip of his tongue.
‘Ale . . .’ she attempted again, but all she managed was to pull her fingers up along his neck and into his hair. She gripped him, possessed.
Alessio’s tongue made its way down her belly to her pelvis.
He shifted his position on the lounger so that he could hold her bottom and thighs steady.
Alessio revelled at the sight. She was all woman – shapely curves, soft to the touch – and after a moment he hooked the fingers of both hands under the lacy trim of her underwear and pulled it from her.
Then he reached back up and caught both buttocks in his hands.
Francesca’s body trembled in his grasp, and as his lips made contact with the sensitive line of her inner thigh, she parted her legs.
His heart filled with adrenaline as he made his way to the groomed patch of hair at her centre. He nuzzled it gently before dropping the final inch.
And there she is.
Over the crest of her pelvis all he could see was Francesca throwing her head back and clawing at the lounger’s cushion.
She bucked and wriggled, and Alessio felt a great sense of humility; right now, in this moment, she had allowed him into her most private and vulnerable world.
She had trusted him to share this moment with her, and he felt incredibly honoured to be the one bringing her this pleasure.
Seeing her so free and unguarded was the greatest turn-on.
‘Ale . . .’ she exhaled.
He paused for a moment, pressing his words into her warmth. ‘Want me to stop?’
She was trying to reach for him, but her hands couldn’t quite grasp his shoulders. ‘Let me . . . I want to give you . . .’ She grunted her frustration.
‘We have all night. Let me just savour you.’
‘But . . .’
He silenced her with the return of his tongue, signalling the obliteration of the last of her self-control.
Alessio could feel that he had brought her to the brink, but before letting her fall into complete ecstasy he pulled away for a moment to sheath himself.
‘Are you ready?’ he asked, breathy and moist-lipped against her inner thigh.
‘Just . . . please . . .’ she panted, pulling him towards her.
Alessio joined her, gently nudging her thighs further apart. Leaning over her writhing body, he pressed himself against her pulsating core, drunk on the way she bucked and begged for his entry. But it was the whimper that seeped from her lips as he pushed inside that tore apart his resolve.
Now, there was no going back.
Staring at the moka the following morning, waiting impatiently for it to prepare his first coffee of the day, Alessio’s mind kept returning to the previous night on the terrazzo. He could still feel every sensation, each intimate gesture, dance across his skin.
The way the line of Francesca’s naked spine glistened under the kiss of the moonlight.
The way she had felt so secure, wrapped so tightly around him once they had reached that special moment of unity.
The way her hips shuddered through her climax, followed by her sigh of release.
The feminine curve of her silhouette against the backdrop of the fairy lights, as she moved on top of him, riding in tandem with his rhythm.
He was only broken from his erotic reverie by the hissing of his coffee as it spilled from the top chamber of the moka, hitting the electric hot plates and evaporating in a bubbling flurry upon impact.
‘Shit,’ he moaned, quicky shifting the moka to a cold plate and reaching for a roll of paper towel.
Then there was a gentle tap on his door.
‘Psst! Alessio . . . it’s just me.’
He opened the door and Francesca stepped inside, closing it promptly behind her.
‘Buongiorno,’ she said, and kissed him. He had been slightly worried about how things would be between them today, but this put him at ease.
‘Buongiorno,’ he replied. ‘Want some coffee? It’s just come off.’
‘No, grazie. I am going to go eat with Nonna and Mamma. I just wanted to quickly come and see how you slept?’
Her usually wild tangle of curls had been pulled into a low full ponytail, tied with a navy satin scarf, the tails of which caught on her shoulder.
‘Sleep?’ He cleared his throat. ‘Well. Very well.’
She smiled and pressed a hug into his white pyjama top. ‘I’m glad to hear it.’
‘Are you ok this morning after last night?’ The image of their tangled naked limbs returned to his mind.
‘Apart from this,’ she laughed, pulling down the front of her tank and lowering the right cup of her bra. There, by her nipple, over her fusillo tattoo, was a very distinct lovebite.
‘Ugh. Sorry. I didn’t mean to . . .’
‘I’ll treasure it for the next few days.’
Alessio reached forward to caress the red patch with his thumb, and wondered again at the new-found intimacy between them. The warmth and feel of her breast had imprinted itself on his fingers; he knew how she would feel, how it would fill his cupped palm.
‘Still, I feel bad.’
Francesca rearranged her bra and top and waved off his concerns.
‘Would you like to join us for breakfast?’ His eyes scanned the apartment in search of his clothing from the night before, and perhaps sensing this, she reassured, ‘We took everything with us. Don’t worry. I’ve already been up to check.’
‘Thank you. I was going to do that now.’ He reached across and caught her shoulders in his hands, drawing her close to his chest. Alessio felt her melt in his embrace, her cheek finding the warm nook by his neck. ‘I’ll come down. Need to start those taralli I promised your mamma.’
‘Bene. And about last night. If you want to do that again . . .’ She tilted her head to lock eyes with him.
‘Right now? Because I’m ready.’
She giggled softly. ‘Breakfast awaits.’ She pressed a longer kiss to his mouth, her tongue gently caressing his. ‘You were incredible last night.’ She brushed a hand against his groin, which immediately responded to her touch. ‘This was everything.’
Alessio felt his cheeks warm. ‘It takes two . . .’
While Francesca’s eyes were slightly dark-rimmed due to lack of sleep, something about her seemed to sparkle, as if she had been renewed somehow.
There was a lightness to her smile and a freshness to her complexion.
‘You were the perfect gentleman.’ She smiled then turned and left, slipping out the door as quietly as possible.
Remembering how she had gripped him, held him tight, begged for more .
. . They had opened a door that could not now be shut, ripped off the bandaid and exposed all their vulnerabilities.
Turning his attention back to the moka, he poured himself a quick espresso, dropping a teaspoon of golden raw sugar into it.
The issue which dominated his thoughts wasn’t about next steps, if or when they would have sex again, or even if things would be the same moving forward.
Now you know you want more of her. And it’s not just sex.