Chapter 22
“Mr. Bianchi, what a pleasure to see you again.”
“Hello, Miss Samantha, how are you?”
“We’re here for work. I believe Henry already told you.”
“Yes, he mentioned it. How long do you plan to stay?”
“Three months, initially. We’re pushing hard on the project so we’ll have time to enjoy a bit of vacation,” Emma responds.
“Then we’ll have plenty of time,” I say, looking at her.
I place my hand on her face and caress her cheek—that soft skin. God, how I’ve missed it. But we’re interrupted by Henry.
“Excuse me, I’m going to handle some business with Owen. I’ll be right back.”
“She’ll be in good hands, Henry. Go ahead.”
“Oh, for sure. And I’m heading down to the dance floor—I’ll be back in a bit, friend,” Samantha says, turning away from us. Finally alone.
“How have you been?”
“Did you break up with your boyfriend?” She gives me a strange look.
“What boyfriend? I haven’t been with anyone since you, Mattia.”
“Okay, in your free time, I want to see you. Actually, let’s get out of here now. I’m dying to have you in my arms again.”
“Mattia, I can’t just leave. I’m here with my friends.”
“They know you’re with me,” I say, standing up and taking her hand.
I can’t resist. I move closer to her, our eyes locked on each other, and then I look at her mouth.
The urge to kiss her is overwhelming. I get closer and closer until finally our lips touch, slowly, as if I need to savor her flavor before devouring her, as if our lives depended on it.
Our tongues meet, and that sensation of being complete at last fills me again.
I deepen our kiss with hunger, desire, and fury.
I slide my hand to the nape of her neck and grab her hair, making her moan.
I feel my cock coming to life as her hands run through my hair, messing it up.
“I need you. Now,” I say.
I take her hand and drag her to the bathroom. She looks at me, startled, and I just smile, grabbing her waist and lifting her onto the counter. She feels the cold marble and shivers all over.
“I’ve missed the taste of your pussy, my diavola. Fucking you from behind, hearing you moan my name,” I whisper in her ear, making her shiver even more.
I rip her pantyhose and shove my hand through the hole I made, pushing her panties aside at the same time.
I touch her pussy, already dripping wet.
I run my finger along her slit and slide it inside her.
She moans loudly. I pull it out, smell it, and put it in my mouth to taste her, never breaking eye contact.
She watches everything I do, rapt, which only turns me on more.
“God, how I’ve missed your scent and taste, mia ragazza.”
“Stop talking and fuck me.”
“Is that what you want?” I ask, and she just nods as I lift her off the counter and turn her to face the mirror, speaking in her ear. “I’m going to fuck you, but you have to stay quiet. Understand?”
“I’ll be quiet, I promise. Just give me what I need.”
Our eyes meet through the mirror I’ve positioned her in front of as I hike her dress up to her waist. I look at her ass—she’s wearing tiny lace panties riding up between her cheeks.
I give her a slap and another moan escapes.
I undo my belt, and my pants and underwear drop to the floor.
I free my cock, already throbbing for her.
I run the head along her dripping pussy and thrust in all at once.
She screams. I cover her mouth and signal for her to stay quiet.
I feel her flesh around me, hot, squeezing me.
The arousal only builds, and I start to move, lifting her leg and placing it on the counter.
She’s so open and willing for me that I lose control and start thrusting—with thirst, anger, longing, pleasure.
A mix of sensations consumes me in that moment, impossible to decipher.
I just satisfy the desire I’ve had for her.
We both forget the world outside. I still have one hand over her mouth—she’s moaning wildly—and I bring the other to her clit, massaging it, urging her to come because I know I won’t last much longer.
And the magic happens. I feel her pussy tighten; she’s hotter than before.
We exchange glances through the mirror once more, and she comes.
I watch her eyes roll back as she tries to moan against my hand.
I speed up my movements—I need to, I have to let go—and I do.
I come inside her and stay there until the last drop spills out.
In that moment I feel comfortable—I'm still inside her, and all I want is to stay there, for a long time, but I want more of her, all night if possible.
I let her go, turn her to face me, and kiss her tenderly, slowly, just savoring a little more of what we shared, locked inside the nightclub bathroom.
“Let's get out of here—straight to my apartment. I need more of you.”
“I'll let Sam know I'm leaving.”
And so we leave, into the cold of Rome, heading for another unforgettable night—one that will make me remember her all over again after Emma leaves.
We take a rideshare and soon arrive at my place, completely different from the one in New York.
More understated, with light furniture in the living room but dark in my bedroom.
She enters without saying a single word, sits on my bed, and feels the softness of the silk sheets.
And there, in that place, we spend a wonderful night.
She's always ready and all mine. Emma is hot, irresistible.
Our sex is wonderful, but being with her is what fills me.
I know she's leaving, and she'll take a piece of me with her.
But for now, I'd rather push those thoughts aside and enjoy the time she'll be here.
That's what I'm going to do. I want all of her, and if I could, I'd never let her slip away from me again. But it's not up to me alone.