by R.S. Grey
By the time we stepped back inside, two of the four candles had gone out and I had to squint in the darkness to see the kitchen. I slipped out of my shoes, wary of tracking mud through his house. The party in the living room was still going strong despite the circumstances. Matteo was trying to convince the others to play a round of strip poker.
“We won’t be able to see anything anyway! I could be naked right now!” he insisted with a laugh.
“Here.” Gianluca unloaded my arms of the dishes I’d just gathered from the table. He tossed everything in the sink. I watched him in the dim light, aware that his clothes were just as drenched as mine. His wet shirt clung to his strong shoulders and lean torso. His dark hair stuck to his forehead as he spun from the sink and took my hand.
He led me around the back of the living room couches and up the stairs to the second floor without a word to the group. I was too nervous to care if anyone had seen us disappear. It was pitch black up there and I was freezing cold. Water dripped down my body; I knew I was leaving small puddles on the hard floor. Gianluca didn’t seem to care, he just kept pulling me toward the end of the long hallway, toward his room.
He never let go of my hand. He pulled me into the dark room behind him and the smell of freshly laundered linen hit me in a wave. He led us through the dark and I held one hand out in front of me, trying to ensure I didn’t walk into a piece of furniture. I should’ve realized he wouldn’t have let me.
He paused and I listened to the sound of him striking a match. Gentle yellow light illuminated the room around us, hardly enough to see, but when he held the small tea candle up between us, I knew it would be enough.
GIANLUCA DROPPED THE candle to the bedside table and then he bent to tug my dress up my thighs. The heavy, wet material dragged across my skin, torturing me.
He was a dark dream, standing there in drenched clothes with his sharp features carved in candlelight. I was always greedy for Gianluca’s touch, but that night, the feel of his calloused palms on my thighs only made me more ravenous. It’d been days since I’d felt his hands on me. I’d had to keep my distance from him all night and as a result, I was hungry for him—starved really.
One of his hands lingered on my thighs, drawing soft circles higher and higher. The other reached up and dragged across my bottom lip, demanding entrance. He tilted my head back and pressed his thumb past my lips. I closed my mouth, swirling my tongue around his thumb until his hand gripped my thigh so hard I knew I was getting to him. I dragged my teeth along his knuckle and then bit down gently. He smirked and I shivered.
My senses were heightened, anxious about the unknown objects that lurked in the dark. I’d never seen Gianluca’s room in the light of day and now, lit only by fire and lightning, it was too dark to see anything beyond him. I trembled as he pulled his thumb out of my mouth and finished pulling my sopping dress off overhead.
Chilled air hit my skin and goosebumps bloomed as I stood there in nothing but my panties, wet from the rain.
His eyes dragged down my full breasts and tight stomach. I nearly closed the gap between us, but there was power in seduction, in loving my body enough to confidently show it off. His hands hit my waist and I let out a sigh. I’d wanted him to touch me higher, to palm my breasts and tease them in his palm, but he ignored them—on purpose.
He was on a different mission, slowly dropping to his knees before me.
“What—”
His hands gripped the back of my knees and I let my mouth hang open, my question forgotten. He blew warm air against the inside of my thigh and then pressed his lips there, repeating the gesture up the inside of my legs, higher and higher until I could reach down and grip his hair without much effort at all. At some point I’d squeezed my eyes closed, but I forced them open and looked down the slope of my body to where he knelt before me. The candle hardly reached him at that angle; I couldn’t see anything beyond my fingers strung through this thick strands. In the shadows, I had no way to prepare myself for the path he traced with his mouth. He moved up, kissing right below my navel, at the top of my wet panties. Then he slowly made his way down to one thigh, and then the other, tightening his circle with each round.
His mouth hit the groove of my inner thigh and then with one hand, he spread my legs apart another few inches, just enough space for him to lean up and press a kiss to the outside of my underwear. I was so thankful for the darkness; I didn’t want him to see how easily he’d stolen my composure.
I kept waiting for him to drag my panties down to the floor, but he used the silky material to his advantage, exhaling a warmth breath there and pushing the soft, wet material against me. My head fell back with the weight of his seduction. I’d barely processed another kiss when his finger hooked into my panties and he brushed them aside, baring me to him. There was no buffer, no way to steel myself against his kisses. His lips pressed against me and then his tongue dragged back and forth so…utterly…slowly. He used the tip to swirl soft circles, dragging me down, down, down, and then he backed off, lapping me up and down. The rhythm was deliberate and maddening. He swirled his tongue until I felt the waves of my orgasm start to crest, and then he squeezed the back of my thigh and moved away.
“Gianluca! You can’t… I have to…”
I felt his smirk against my hip and then his finger brushed up, replacing his tongue. It was such a sharp change. His tongue had been silky and soft. His finger was stiff and the pressure he applied was just what I needed. I rolled my hips forward to meet him, and he rewarded me by slipping his finger inside just enough to hit my most sensitive spot. He pressed in deeper and I tightened my grip on his hair, showing him that I needed more.
He added a second finger, delicately teasing them both into me as I exhaled a shaky breath. My stomach quivered. By then I was so turned on, he could have leaned forward and breathed on me and I would have come apart on his lips.
He knew it too. There was no end to the torture I endured before he let me come. He dragged his fingers in and out and swirled his tongue around me. He used his other hand to keep my hips still so I couldn’t rock against his mouth, not until he’d turned me absolutely mental, not until my pleas were slipping out, over and over. I begged him to give in and let me come and then when the fireworks trickled down my body from head to toe, and his mouth was on me and his fingers were fucking me, I shook like my life was ending, like that orgasm was the last thing I’d ever experience on Earth.
There was no more waiting.
I was done.
I told him to get a condom, ignoring the shaking in my voice, the way I was covered in sweat and rain and lust as he opened his bedside drawer and tore open the wrapper.
I didn’t let him lead us onto the bed. My appetite had turned carnal. I wanted to push and shove him, make him pay for torturing me like that, but any punishment for him would be worse for me. I gripped his shoulder, dug my nails into his skin, and pushed him to the floor. He was confused. Why would we fuck on the floor when the bed was right there, within reach?
Why?
Because I couldn’t stand it for one…more…second.
Because I needed him inside me and he’d oblige me because I deserved it after what I’d just endured, because he was about to come apart the way I had, and I wanted to straddle him on the hardwood floor with the rain pouring down until our tea candle burned out.
I tugged down his jeans, heavy and wet. When he was naked in the dark, splayed out on the floor, I brushed my palms from his ankles up to his chest, careful to avoid his hardness. I wanted him to experience the pain of anticipation, as I had. I kissed his chest and dragged my teeth down his abs. His muscles tightened and his hand reached up to grip my bicep. It was a warning to proceed cautiously and it lit a fire inside me.
I unrolled the condom and slid it on. He inhaled through his teeth when my small hand wrapped around him, stroking up and down, ensuring he was more than ready for me. I moved up onto my knees and hovered over him. I held him there beneath me, so close
I could have slid down onto him, pushing him inside.
But I held off, tempting him through my panties. He was so hard, unmistakably long and thick. He let out a hoarse moan and I smirked, feeling powerful as I took more control, rolling my hips in a soft circle as I continued my little lap dance. I used the silky material I wore to slide back and forth along his length. His hands found my hips and squeezed, trying to still me. He stayed silent, but I heard every word he didn’t say in those heavy breaths, in his soft moans, in the deep growl as I finally brushed my underwear aside and positioned him at my entrance. I’d come to know his body these past few weeks and he knew mine, but this, him slowly sliding his length into me was wholly earth-shattering.
It was then that he stole the reins from me once again. I’d have pushed down onto him completely, felt him stretch me until I broke, but he teased me with shallow, deepening thrusts. I stayed sitting up, propping my hands on his chest as he lifted his hips off the ground. Each time he pulled back, he sank in another inch deeper, until finally our hip bones met and I felt him inside of me, every delicious inch. He let out a pained sigh and we fell into an erotic rhythm.
My second orgasm came quicker than its predecessor. The fire had already been set, and with him inside me, there was no shortage of fuel. Slow thrusts turned quicker. Hands dug into flesh. Moans turned hurried and wild. With me on top, I should have been in control, but he stole the show. I collapsed on top of him, breathing heavily against his neck as he held my hips and thrust into me, faster and harder than before. I could only grip his shoulders and cling on. He moved too fast for me to keep up and then he made it all but impossible when he started to whisper delicious things against the shell of my ear, moaning about how tight and warm I felt around him, how good I made him feel. He wanted me to come again like that, with him rocking up into me, and when he let go of my hip with one hand and dropped it between my legs, I knew I would. It only took a few brushes of his thumb against me, hardly half a dozen circles and I shattered on top of him.
To come against Gianluca’s mouth was amazing, but with him unraveling inside me, there was no going back. I’d never stop chasing that high.
We eventually moved to the bed. He tossed aside the used condom. We told each other we would lie still for a few minutes and rest, but those promises barely left our lips before Gianluca’s hand brushed up to cup my breast. He made it out to be romantic. He said he just wanted to feel me, but I couldn’t stop the wildfire from erupting once more.
It wasn’t long before he took me again, this time with my face turned down into the pillows so they could muffle my cries. Gianluca positioned himself behind me and reshaped a position of one-sided dominance into an intimate act of lovemaking. He took his time spreading my legs, dragging his hands up over my hips and down the curve of my bottom. He caressed every inch of my skin until he hovered right over the center of me. He leaned back and I knew he was just looking at me. I was glad for the pillow so he couldn’t see how red my cheeks had gone. It was such a personal gift to let someone see every inch of you. Eventually he moved closer, teasing me with his fingertips, spreading my thighs just enough for him to position himself between them. His chest pressed against my back and his fingers laced through mine beside my ribs. He propped himself up on his knees and gently fucked me like that until I was writhing beneath him.
It was the most delicious night of my life and though I was sad when exhaustion started to overpower my desire to have him for a fourth time, he didn’t let me wallow. I was lying flat on top of him with my eyes closed, half-asleep with a pleasant little smile lingering on my lips.
Gianluca was drawing circles on my back when he asked if I was still awake.
“Barely,” I whispered. “Don’t even think about moving those hands lower though.”
I could feel his smile against my shoulder.
“I won’t, for now…”
I let out a greedy sigh and settled back into him, glad for the extra warmth. Even though my body was ready for sleep, my mind needed a few minutes to wind down. I listened to the rain clattering on the tile roof, Gianluca’s steady breathing behind me. I thought he’d already drifted off when he spoke again, his voice hardly more than a whisper.
“Do you remember me telling you about the winds when we were out on the boat?”
I hummed, sure that I was asleep, in a dream. “The ones from Africa that bring the rain.”
“And the ones from the north? They clear the skies. Do you remember that?”
“Tramontana,” I replied, quite proud of myself for remembering the name.
He squeezed me tighter and pressed a kiss to my neck.
THE NEXT MORNING, I awoke alone in Gianluca’s bed to the sound of chatter downstairs. I recalled him kissing me earlier, trying to draw me out of sleep. I’d groaned and pulled the covers up over my head, begging for a few more minutes. He’d obliged, and I had no clue how much longer I’d slept after that. The level of noise downstairs made me think it’d been a few hours.
I stretched and pushed the covers down, turning to Gianluca’s bedside table to find a clock. There was a stack of books and a turned-down picture frame. I reached to flip it over and then jerked away as if it’d burned me. The frame clattered back down onto the bedside table and I bristled at the sound of glass cracking. I’d accidently split it down the middle.
Allie’s beaming smile stared back at me through the splintered glass.
The photo was from their wedding day, and Allie was dressed in a fitted lace gown. Her blonde hair spilled down around her shoulders, long and angelic. Her eyes shined with pure joy, and her smile was the most real thing I’d ever seen.
She was beautiful and in love and suddenly, I felt ill.
I pushed off the bed and reached down for my dress. It was still wet; I’d never hung it up to dry the night before. I groaned and turned toward Gianluca’s closed closet door. I’d find a t-shirt and pull it on for now. I didn’t want to be naked anymore. I suddenly felt vulnerable and raw after the night I’d had with him.
I whipped the door open and flipped the light on, sucker-punched by the sight in front of me. Dresses, scarves, high heels—they took up most of the modest space, even invading some of Gianluca’s side. It was Allie’s stuff. Her shoes looked like they’d just recently been kicked off and piled in the corner. Her laundry sat untouched beside it. There was a bright yellow dress hanging up right at the front. I reached out and felt the silky material, rubbing my thumb over the fabric. The lemon print would have looked silly in London, but it was the perfect dress for Vernazza, light and cheerful.
I let the fabric slip out of my fingers and I spun from the closet to inspect his room through new eyes. The night before it’d been dark and romantic, nothing but him and me. In the light of day, there was no ignoring the signs of Allie strewn everywhere: her robe hanging on the back of the door, her books stacked on the nightstand right next to where I’d slept, her unused medicine in the bathroom cabinet. There were two toothbrushes sitting in a cup on the bathroom counter. One was new, blue, and clearly belonged to Gianluca. The other was purple and faded, its bristles dried and split. I reached forward to touch it and then pulled back. What would Allie think if she knew I was in her house, sleeping with her husband, touching her belongings, staring at her smiling face on her wedding day?
I was going to be sick. My stomach squeezed tight and I pressed a hand to the back of my neck, willing the nausea to pass. I couldn’t be sick in her bathroom. I felt her there, judging me, condemning me for sleeping with Gianluca.
Allie might have passed away five years earlier, but inside Gianluca’s house she still held court. He hadn’t lied to me all those weeks ago when he’d told me he wasn’t ready for a relationship. The man was still completely in love with his wife. A ghost.
“Georgie! Are you awake yet?”
It was Katerina, calling me from the bottom of the stairs.
“We were going to go get breakfast now that the rain has stopped!”
I wiped at tears I hadn’t realized were falling. I jerked the back of my hand across my cheek, angry with myself for being emotional. Get it together. I’d pushed for this relationship or non-relationship. Whatever. I’d told Gianluca I was perfectly content with no strings, but this was different. This felt dirty. Wrong.
I met my reflection in the mirror, seeing myself through the eyes of Allie’s ghost. I looked so different from her, nearly her polar opposite. She was fair-skinned with bright blonde hair and light eyes. Maybe that’s why Gianluca fancied me—I wasn’t at risk of replacing the love of his life.
“Georgie! Come on!”
It was Gianluca shouting then. His feet were on the stairs; he was coming up to drag me out of bed. I ran out of the bathroom and snatched up my dress off the floor. I shivered as the cold, wet silk settled into place on my body. My underwear were nowhere in sight, but there was no time. I couldn’t see Gianluca in this room again; it would be too much with the three of us in the cramped space.
I combed my fingers through my hair, wiped at my cheeks one last time, and left the room. Gianluca was just cresting the top of the stairs and when he saw me, he beamed.
“There you are. I was worried you’d never wake up.”
I laughed—it sounded tight and awkward—and then I brushed past him to trot down the stairs.
“Georgie?”
“Yeah?” I called over my shoulder, trying to keep my features neutral.
“Do you need some of my clothes to wear? Your dress is still wet. I don’t want you catching a cold.”
I was drowning there, trying to keep it together and breathe and pretend he and I were okay.
“No thanks. Actually, I’m going to skip out on breakfast. I feel like heading down to do a few things at the B&B. We’ve only got a few weeks before Taylor arrives.”
“Do you need my help?”
“No! No,” I repeated myself again, trying for a calmer tone.
