Chapter 30
CHAPTER THIRTY
BIANCA
I want Giovanni in here with me.
I want him in a way I’ve never wanted any man, and that’s exactly why I didn’t invite him into my room.
I tried to go straight to sleep, but my eyes refused to stay shut. So instead I took out my copy of Yes, Chef and started reading, but the book didn’t help settle me at all. The hero is a chef, which only made me fantasize more about Giovanni.
So finally I took out my toy, only for my phone to buzz seconds after I turned it on.
I’m ignoring it, determined to focus on the screen of my computer, where Giovanni’s video is playing, and—
Giovanni knocks on the wall. It’s the signal he, my brother, and I used to use to communicate it was time for us to get up to no good.
My whole face heats, and I fumble the toy. It drops onto the floor and skips across it, looking like a wind-up toy for sex-starved adults.
My face feels like an oven as I practically vault out of the bed to turn it off and return it to the comforter, tugging my loose green nightgown back into place.
Can he hear the toy through the wall? I don’t usually hear him, although I’ve always been good at tuning out background noise.
I hesitate…and then remember the message on my phone. I glance at the screen, my heart thumping like a scared animal’s, and sure enough, it’s from him:
Bring it over.
I thought my face already felt like it was melting in an oven, but no, that’s what it’s doing now.
That’s what my whole body is doing.
He heard me. He knows. Hell, he probably knows that I’ve been pleasuring myself almost every night since he arrived.
I cradle my face in my hand, feeling more humiliated than I ever have in my life.
Then another text comes through, followed by more. I finally uncover my face, because of course I need to check.
You’re embarrassed, aren’t you?
Please don’t be embarrassed.
It’s unspeakably sexy.
So sexy I have lost all sense, and I’m going to beg you to come over. I’m down on my knees right across the wall from you, hoping you’ll take pity on me.
Please, cara mia. I want you so badly it hurts.
I pause, feeling so nervous and excited that I’m practically buzzing inside of my skin.
I write back,
You’re really on your knees?
Come see.
Bring your friend.
Smiling, I wrap the toy up in a towel, because the last thing I need is for my grandmother to catch me sneaking into Giovanni’s room with a vibrator at the ready.
Moments later, I’m standing in the hallway, then opening his door, the hinges smooth and oiled—thanks to Giovanni, no doubt.
He’s been quietly fixing many of the things that have been neglected in this house.
Chores I have no doubt my brother would do if he weren’t overwhelmed with being the only handy person around.
As soon as the door opens, I see him waiting for me on his knees, and the breath leaves my lungs as I shut it behind me.
He’s shirtless, wearing a pair of tented athletic shorts, and so much more desirable in person than he was headless on my screen.
He’s staring up at me, his hands clasped together in supplication, so seductive it makes my knees weak.
He gives me a wicked smile. “Will you introduce me to your friend, Bianca? I’ve been wanting to meet them for a long time now.”
I laugh, raising a hand to cover my mouth. Then I practically sprint over to him, getting down on my knees too, and bury my face in his chest. “I can’t believe you’ve been listening to me, you jerk. You should have said something.”
He guides me back slightly so he can look at me. “Yes, I should have said, Bianca, I noticed you’ve been pleasuring yourself at night. Would you let me prove I can do a better job of it?”
My face is hot again, but I don’t try to hide from him, or from this out-of-control need pumping through my veins. “I believe in being direct, yes. You could have asked.”
He runs his fingers across my shoulder, brushing the strap of my nightgown to the side—and groans as he glides his fingers over my exposed breast.
“Maybe I wasn’t feeling so confident after you told me I was a bad kisser.” He smiles as he leans down and claims my nipple with his lips, running the tip of his tongue around it.
I hit him softly with the towel-wrapped vibrator—and inadvertently turn it on.
He captures my laughter in a kiss. This one is completely different from the kiss we stole earlier in the micro-orchard in Gallagher Park. It’s full of fierce need, our mouths seeking more of each other, but after a few seconds, he pulls back, panting.
“You’re in a rush to use this, Bianca. Don’t worry, I’ll learn how.” He takes the vibrator, still buzzing, from my hand, and lets the towel fall away from it to pool at his feet.
“You will?” I ask, allowing a hint of a challenge seep into my voice.
“I think I can figure out the general principle. Why don’t you stand up and press your palms on the bed? I think I’d like to make you come at least twice tonight. Once with your friend and once with my cock.”
“Don’t you make promises you won’t keep,” I say, because I have to say something smart-ass, or I might just melt into a puddle at his feet.
“I never do that.”
Warmth floods me, because I know it’s true.
I stand up and start to brush the other strap of the nightgown loose so I can step out of it, but he stops me with a resolute shake of his head.
“No, I’m begging you, keep it on. You’re a vision in green.”
I tilt my head, still playing with the strap.
“And in black,” he adds, his lips curling upward. “Of course you are. Donna della notte.”
I laugh, even though my whole body is primed with need and screaming out for more of him. “Did you just call me a lady of the night?”
“So you do know some Italian,” he says, getting to his feet, the vibrator in hand.
“Enough to know you just called me a prostitute.”
“No, that’s not how I meant it.” He leans down and presses a kiss on the hollow where my neck meets my shoulder, sending a shiver of pleasure through me.
“You’re a lady draped in the beauty and quiet of night, who always steps into my dreams and takes them over.
Every single time. But you can be my prostitute, if you’d like. I’ll pay you in apple pies.”
I give his arm a gentle shove. “Not funny.”
“I’d like to eat apple pie filling off you, though. It would taste twice as sweet.”
I gasp as he reaches under my nightgown and finds me bare, a satisfied smile creasing his face.
“Now, please, Bianca. Put your hands on the bed so I can play with you the way you’ve been playing with yourself every night.”
I want him to do exactly that, so I plant my palms on the comforter, which is still warm and spicy-smelling from his skin, and he wraps his big hand around my hip.
He arches over me, his heat engulfing me, and reaches his fingers down to play between my legs.
Using his other hand, he brings the vibrator into position.
My mouth parts as he slowly thrusts it in, his fingers still stroking me.
“This doesn’t hurt, does it?” he asks, faltering. Which is both ridiculous and sweet, because his dick is much bigger.
“No, it doesn’t hurt.” I push against it. “It feels really, really good. But not as good as you.”
“Tell me, tesoro,” he whispers in my ear. “Were you thinking of me when you were in there night after night? Because I was thinking about you.”
The combination of the vibration and his confident, easy strokes is already making my bones and joints feel liquid. I can barely hold myself up, not that I’d need to, because he still has that hand wrapped around me, supporting me.
“Yes,” I admit. “You…I had one of your videos on the screen.”
For a second, I worry he’ll be pissed. That he’ll still think of the Shirtless Chef as someone other than him—as his more successful doppelganger. His brighter shadow.
But he kisses the side of my face, thrusting the toy in deep again, his fingers continuing their soft but steady pressure between my legs. “But my face isn’t in those videos, so I didn’t get the privilege of seeing you.”
I laugh, but it comes out as a half moan as he moves the toy again. “If you could see everyone your recorded self sees, I’m sure you’d see hundreds of people getting off.”
“But there’s only one person I’d want to see.”
He hits a spot that drives a moan out of me, and my whole body quivers with the strength of my release as he continues his gentle thrusts of the toy, his fingers stroking me. He murmurs sweet nothings in Italian, and I feel cherished. I feel loved.
“Now, Giovanni. I need you inside of me now.”
He swears and turns off the toy, throwing it onto the mattress.
It’s all I can do to keep from launching myself at him as I wait for him to tear open the condom wrapper.
And finally, there he is—pressed up against the back of my legs, wrapping his hand around my hip again.
Moments later, he’s filling me up, just like he was seconds ago, but this time with his hot, hard cock.
The feeling of fullness, of completion, is so beautifully overwhelming, my mouth slips open.
“I’m sorry it doesn’t vibrate,” he whispers into my ear, then bites it lightly while I laugh.
But the laughter dries up when he reaches between my legs as he pumps into me. I can already feel pleasure blasting through me, intensified. He feels so perfect, so absolutely right, and tears gather in my eyes.
Crying would ruin everything, so I will them back, trying to force myself to accept this for what it is—really hot sex with a beautiful man. No one needs to be hurt. This can just be about our mutual enjoyment of each other.
“You feel so good,” he says softly. “So right for me. Does it feel good for you?”
“Yes.”
I need to see him, though.
It’s an awful thought, a dangerous thought, but I want to look into his eyes when I come, and I want to see him come. I want us to experience it together. I hold back the request, though, because surely he’d know that it means I have feelings I shouldn’t.
Then he pulls out, the loss of his heat and pressure shocking, and turns me around to face him. “I want to see your face,” he says. “I need to look into your eyes.”
I stare at him, thunderstruck. It’s as if he read my mind.
He must see the shock on my face, and maybe the tears in my eyes, because he suddenly looks worried. Possibly even terrified.
“Bianca, are you okay?” His voice is urgent, his words tripping over each other. “Did I—”
“I want to look in your eyes too,” I confess. “I was just thinking that.”
“Oh, Bianca,” he says, kissing my check and then the side of my mouth. “I’m so happy to hear you say that.”
He guides me to sit down on the bed. “Sit back against the wall,” he says, his voice a harsh whisper. “That damn wall that has kept us separated.”
I do as he commands. There’s a small separation between the bed and the wall.
While my back is leaning against the wall, he sits facing it, his legs in the gap between the bed and the wall.
He tugs me onto his lap, guiding me on top of him—and I lower down onto his cock, my head tipping back against the wall as I take every last inch of him.
My body feels grateful for the return of what was lost.
I murmur his name, and then he captures my mouth as our bodies move together, forming a rhythm as old as humanity that somehow feels new with him. Everything is different when we’re together, newer and more alive.
I find myself gripping the cornicello pendant around his neck, his sign of hope, as pleasure ripples through me and pulls me into its embrace.
Giovanni’s dark eyes are on me as I ride through my orgasm, my whole body cradled between him and the wall, and I feel so cherished and wanted it’s as if my hungry soul is riding the wave of pleasure too.
That’s when he comes, his eyes fluttering shut, my name on his lips.
I wrap my arms around him tight, because in that moment, I’m not at all willing to let him go.
“I want to make a video with you,” he murmurs into my ear, and I lean back to look at him, shocked, the heady feelings fading.
My old heartsickness tires to rise up. Did I get him all wrong? Did I mess up again? He’s still inside of me, but suddenly he feels like a stranger.
“I may look like a lady of the night,” I say, going for a teasing tone and not landing it, “but I’m not up for that.”
He actually has the nerve to laugh. Reaching up to caress my cheek, he says, “No, I didn’t mean it like that. Not unless you’re into it. I meant that I want us to make videos about the apple pie leading up to the bake-off.”
With just a few words, all those awful questions fade away, leaving only happiness.
He’s going to try again. He’s going to make a video…
And he wants to do it with me.