Epilogue
Evelyn
One Month Later
“Massimo! We can’t go in there.” I gesture at the sign affixed to the chain link fence: it warns visitors to keep out.
He shoots me a wicked, devastating smile and pushes open the gate. “We can do whatever we want.”
I hesitate, torn between his nearly irresistible allure and my desire to follow the rules.
He holds out his hand, and I place mine in it automatically, trusting him.
“Don’t you want to take pictures?” He tempts me through the gate. “I thought you wanted new photos for your gallery opening next week.”
I bite my lip, desire for this perfect man warring with unease at breaking and entering somewhere I don’t belong.
He chuckles. “Don’t worry. You’re not breaking any rules, dolcezza. I asked a friend to put the sign there. We’ll have the whole place to ourselves.”
A light, slightly giddy laugh bubbles from my chest, and I kiss his smirking lips. His hand instantly cups my nape, trapping me so that he can deepen the kiss. My head tips back on a happy sigh, and his tongue tangles with mine, taming me in firm, domineering strokes.
Lust coils low in my belly, and my arms twine around his shoulders, anchoring me to him.
He holds me for long minutes, indulging in our simmering chemistry.
It’s just as potent today as was when we first touched: the night he saved me from the man who tried to roofie me at the dive bar in Mexico City.
That feels like a lifetime ago. I was a different person then, a shell of my true self. Massimo swept me up into his strong arms and helped me heal. I’m whole and happy because of the man I love.
After a while, he finally pulls away with a low rumble of regret.
“Later,” he murmurs, the promise meant for both of us. “I have plans for you today, my sweet girl. And they don’t include fucking you against this gate.” He tucks a stray lock of hair behind my ear. “You deserve far better.”
I’m so lost in him that I wouldn’t care if he claimed me in the middle of a crowded room, much less this semi-secluded spot.
We’re only meters away from a bus route along the Amalfi coastline, barely hidden in the shade of the trees past the fence.
The risk of being seen sends a thrill racing through me.
I take a breath and compose myself. If Massimo promises me pleasure later, I can wait. I’ll give him anything, obey any command. The strength of his will sets me free, and surrendering to his control brings me transcendent bliss.
Keeping my hand firmly clasped in his, Massimo leads me down slightly precarious concrete stairs that are cracked with age.
He positions his hulking body to my right, ensuring his bulk protects me from slipping past the rusted railing that provides the only barrier between us and a steep drop to the sea.
“Where are we going?” I ask, curious about our surroundings.
Massimo usually takes me to opulent locations and lavishes me with expensive gifts and meals. This feels more rustic than previous dates he’s planned for us.
“The Baths of Queen Giovanna,” he explains, gesturing for me to take the next narrow step carefully. “You’ll love it here, I promise.”
We reach the bottom of the stairs, and my breath catches.
A placid cove opens up before us, gentle waves lapping at the small, pebbled beach.
High cliffs surround us on all sides, the rock shining with a golden hue beneath the summer sun.
A small, arched gap in the cliffs at the far side of the cove provides a keyhole view out to the wider Mediterranean Sea.
But inside this peaceful space, the water glows in a breathtaking teal blue that contrasts with the darker azure at the horizon.
I reach for my camera before I fully process what I’m doing.
The urge to photograph this stunning, magical space is almost instinctive.
Ever since Massimo gifted me with my Canon DSLR, my artistic nature has blossomed.
His faith in my creative talent has unlocked my passion for photography in a way I’ve never known before.
When I pull the camera from its protective case, my brow furrows. This is a Nikon, not my Canon.
“I thought you would prefer a waterproof model today,” he explains, reading my confusion. “We can go for a swim without worrying about damaging your camera.”
My eyes sting with a surge of love for this perfect man.
“I love you,” I say with the weight of an oath.
I’ll never tire of saying it, never regret giving myself to Massimo, body and soul.
He sweeps me up in another devastating kiss, laying claim to everything that I am. I offer myself to him eagerly.
When I’m dizzy from the intensity of our fiery chemistry, he finally relents. His touch is slow with regret when he gently grasps my shoulders and directs me to turn away from him.
“Take your pictures, dolcezza.” His lips tease the shell of my ear. “I have plans to make you scream my name later. You’ll come so hard that you’ll beg for mercy. And I will have none.”
He nips at my neck, drawing a shiver from me despite the midday heat.
“You promise?” My voice is breathy in the way I’ve only ever known with him.
“I promise.”
A satisfied smile curves my lips. Massimo always keeps his promises.
I lift my camera and obediently snap the first shot of our stunning surroundings.
His warm hands on my shoulders ground me, and I lose myself to the beautiful moment.
Each gentle caress of his fingers over my arms, my neck, and the curve of my jaw keeps me thoroughly in his thrall even as I focus intently on my creative work.
I sink into the sweet sensation of his touch, my mind going blissfully quiet in a way that frees my artistic instincts.
Massimo has unlocked my passion, and I’ve never been so prolific as I’ve become since he brought me to Italy. He’s imbued me with confidence for my gallery opening, erasing any lingering anxiety and self-doubt. He believes in me, and he insists that I believe in myself too.
I can’t deny him anything.
We strip down to our swimsuits and wade into the aqua pool. I dip beneath the surface of the water to take more pictures.
I surface with a gasp of delight. What I thought was a large rock in the center of the cove bears the unmistakable marks of masonry.
“What is it?” I ask, gesturing at the sunken ruin.
He drops a kiss on the top of my head. “It’s all that remains of a Roman villa that was built on the cliff. It subsided into the cove hundreds of years ago. Do you want to see it up close?”
I nod fervently and start to swim the short distance to the ruin. The water is cool and clear, small waves undulating around us. The biggest swells of the sea are broken by the small arched entrance to the cove, leaving the magical space placid and serene.
I take more underwater photos, diving deeper to capture the rugged beauty of the ruins.
When I finally pause to take a few deep breaths, I find Massimo lounging on top of the masonry, his body submerged to his waist where he sits on the edge of the stone.
His powerful torso is on full, delicious display, slight shadows settling beneath his ripped muscles to show off the carved perfection of his body.
I lick my lips in wanton desire for him, and his eyes flash in the sunlight.
He extends a hand toward me. “Come here.”
I place my hand in his, and he pulls me through the water in an easy glide, closing the small distance between us. His hands bracket my hips, and he tugs me up onto the rock, settling me between his spread legs so that I face away from him.
He presses a kiss to the sensitive spot where my neck meets my shoulder, and my core flutters.
“Don’t stop,” he commands, placing my hands around my camera and directing me to lift it. “Stay focused on your art.”
I lean back against his hard chest and release a shuddering breath as his corded arms wrap around me. His tongue traces a scorching trail up my neck, teasing over my vulnerable throat. My head cants to the side to offer him better access, but I take another photo of the cove, obeying his command.
His fingers trail down my sternum, tracing a lazy path between my breasts. I arch into his teasing touch, loving the sensation of cool water dripping from his warm fingers. The dichotomy is intoxicating, and my skin pebbles even as my body begins to burn for him.
One hand traces the underside of my breast, just below my blue bikini top. His other roves down my stomach, the barest brush of his fingers above my clit.
I revel in his cruelly erotic embrace. His arms cage me even as his fingers remain featherlight on my sensitive flesh.
My breaths come faster, the clicks of my camera more frenzied as I snap stunning photos of our exquisite surroundings.
Each image captures a moment of my forbidden pleasure, my lust for Massimo directing my artistic urges.
“Good girl.” His praise rumbles through me, reaching deep into my core.
I shiver and lean into him, welcoming more of his deviant game.
He brushes his thumb over my clit and the other over my nipple at the same time, barely stimulating me through my bikini. The light touch sends a shockwave of pleasure through me, and my body thrums for him as though I’m his favorite instrument.
Suddenly, he releases me from his arms, steadying my shoulders briefly before pulling away.
My jaw drops, and I stare at him in shocked, bereft silence for several seconds.
He sinks into the water before me where I sit on the ruin, his satisfied smirk and flashing eyes peeking above the aquamarine surface.
I take a picture of the arrogant expression, deciding to keep this particularly alluring photograph for my private collection.
Massimo is all mine, and I will never share this part of him. That wicked gaze is for me alone, and I covet it.
“Give me the camera,” he commands, holding out an expectant hand.
I pass it to him without objection. I’ve been teaching him the basics, and I trust him to take care of the precious gift he’s given me.