by Nana Malone
“Let’s finish our meal together,” he said in his deep, accented voice, almost lyrical to her ears.
Aniyah opened her eyes. She blinked up into his with confusion. “I told you. I don’t like cooking. Besides, it reminds me of him...”
“Then it’s time for you to make different memories. Ones that don’t include him. Isn’t that why you came here under false pretense? To start again? Am I wrong?”
She smiled. “No, Niccolo. You aren’t wrong.”
He took her left hand and pulled her away from the island in the kitchen and walked her around to the sink. He kept his hands over hers as he washed them under warm tap water.
“First we clean your hands,” he said.
She nodded.
He turned off the tap, dried her hands and brought her over to the platters he had arranged. His hands left hers and settled firmly on her hips. He pressed his groin into her backside.
“A tiny pinch of salt. A tiny pinch of pepper,” he said.
For some strange reason the simple request sent her heart to beating erratically against her chest. She slowly shook salt into her palm. Not much. Just a dash. She pinched the tiny grains between two fingers and then sprinkled them over the carpaccio that was pounded flat on the platter. When she was done, Niccolo took her hand and licked the center of her palm to clear its remnants away. Aniyah’s breath caught in her throat. She glanced back behind him. His left brow winged up in response and she returned her gaze to the platter. She shook a sprinkle of pepper into her palm and did the same thing. Niccolo again flicked his tongue at her palm and swiped away the pepper.
The groan deep in his throat was so soft she knew it came naturally. He released her hand. His other slid around her lower tummy, grazing over her pelvis. She didn’t move toward the counter. Instead she pressed back against him. His towering presence and hard body felt nice.
“Now, do the other side of the meat,” he instructed.
She did.
And he responded the same way.
The lesson was a torturous tease because it went as slowly as a first dance. And she tried not to rush through her excitement. In the three years she was with Denton, she’d never felt such unhurried passion from something like having a man help you prepare food. And she had the nerve to believe she was in love with a Chef.
“Drizzle the meat with aioli and then we will mound the arugula in the center of the carpaccio I have prepared.”
She glanced over to the third plate of chilled thin beef covered in clear plastic wrap. She did as he instructed, with him helping her from behind. Instead of two hands they worked as one with four. And all the while he remained so comfortingly close.
“What do we do now?” she asked.
“Tomatoes. Do you like them?” he asked against her ear.
“Yes,” she said.
“Let me help you cut them. They must be thick, ripe, just the right size to truly enjoy...no?” His hand closed over hers as she held the knife while he held the tomato. The knife sliced into it and cut several thick slices. She seasoned the tomatoes and they put them on another, smaller platter.
He only stopped her to lick her finger before instructing her further. She put cheese on the tomato as he instructed, drizzled them with balsamic vinegar and added some basil leaves. Then arranged all that they had done on two separate serving plates.
“What is this?” she asked, looking at the variety of food.
“Antipasti,” he said. “A little of everything. Now we eat, and I can show you how good life can be through food. Make new memories?”
Before he stepped away, she turned and wrapped her arms around his neck to draw him back in. “I thought you were going to teach me how to cook.”
“I told you. It’s the appetizer. Just the starter...”
“Then let me give you the meal,” she said.
Niccolo stared into her eyes. He didn’t pull back. And she expected him to do so. After all, she had lied to him. Deceived him and the hotel. None of it seemed to affect him. He had his own intentions. His mouth came down on top of hers.
She tasted like ambrosia, a sweet and spicy treat. The way her tongue swirled up and greeted his was his undoing. There were many questions he had. Who was she? Why had she deceived him? Why had she come exactly when he needed...someone like her? But all he wanted in that heated moment was the kiss. Desire mixed with lust was rising up so hard and fast in his body, he reached his hand up to her head and gently pulled it back to trail kisses to her neck. It was her breasts he truly wanted to suck. How many times had he caught a glimpse of her nipples peeking through the fabric of her summer dress? Yes. He wanted to suck her breasts and then trail his tongue farther. The urge broke the last of his resistance. But he had to stop. He hadn’t wanted any woman this bad since Mya.
Niccolo ended the soft brush of his lips down her throat with a small lick to where her neck and shoulder met. Breathless, he pulled back. He let go of her hair and pressed his forehead to hers.
“Don’t stop,” she panted.
“We must. I...should.”
“No. Don’t think. Don’t think or question it. We can debate the reasons why it happened later. Please, Niccolo. Just let it happen.”
Oh, the things he could show her, do to her, right there against the sink. But sex wasn’t what he craved. It was intimacy. And then he looked again into her dark, long-lashed eyes and saw the raw need within her as well. Someone had hurt her. Stomped on her heart and pride. Taken for granted all the things a man should worship in his woman. He was the better guy.
“Not here,” he said. And then to her surprise he swept her up in his arms.
* * *
Aniyah gasped. She was overwhelmed. Niccolo carried her through the kitchen. She hadn’t been swept into a man’s arms since her father carried her as a child. She didn’t recall much of him. and only had pictures of him to remind her of the memory. Niccolo kicked a door open to reveal a room no bigger than the closet in her apartment, holding only a bed and a small table.
“What is this?”
“My room,” he breathed and placed her on the tiny bed.
“Your room? You have a suite upstairs. Same floor as mine,” she said and looked around as her eyes adjusted to the darkness.
“That was the room I shared with my wife. I don’t go into it. I haven’t since I returned.”
She watched as he lit the lantern. It was an oil lamp and the shadows it cast danced slowly on the wall. He turned his gaze to her.
“I expect nothing from you, Aniyah. If you don’t want to do this then say so,” he said.
She touched his chest. “Stop pretending that you don’t need this as much as I do.”
He smiled. “I’m not pretending, not anymore.”
He reached behind her neck and touched the tie to her halter dress. “I want to see your breasts. I’ve wanted to see them all night.”
She let him loosen the knot while her eyes remained trained on his. The top loosened and the two pieces that kept her breasts covered drifted down. Niccolo’s gaze lowered to her breasts and then he touched her. His hands were cold. She felt a shiver of anticipation and surprised excitement spear through her. Aniyah liked the rough, callused touch of his fingers as they massaged her. She liked the way he stared at her breasts with a deep longing to do more. Her soft sighs were submission, and he glanced up to her eyes to see that she too wanted more. She reached to the side of her summer dress. With a slow move she drew down the zipper. The dress opened and slipped from her hips. Now she stood before him in her thong.
“Why not tell me you weren’t married?” he asked.
“Why not tell me the reason you call me cara?” she asked. “We show people what we want them to see, Niccolo. We tell them what we want them to know. Especially when we are hurt.”
“You’re even more beautiful than I imagined.” He advanced on her and she dropped on the bed. He came down over her and she blinked up at him, ready for what was to come next.
* * *
The feel of her soft curves against his body fueled his desires. He went for her lips once more. A distraction while he took the liberty to ease his hand down from her breasts to the delta between her thighs. She parted them for him and he was able to touch her warm wet center. His lips again drew from her mouth and brushed over her chin as he buried the lower part of his face against her throat. Niccolo licked her pulse point with his tongue and felt it beating faster and faster. She was his. And it was the greatest gift he’d received in an eternity.
Niccolo’s groin tightened, throbbed and strained behind the zipper of his jeans. He’d forgotten to get undressed. With a deep groan of regret, he withdrew and pulled his shirt over his head. He had to stand to undo his belt. She lay there with her legs parted the way he had positioned her. The black lace thong she wore was so thin it had slipped between the plump folds of her sex. Niccolo lowered his zipper.
Aniyah sat up, braced on her elbows and waited for the unveiling. All he could do was nod to the question in her eyes. He wasn’t a braggart. He didn’t measure his length. But every woman he’d ever been with had made it clear on many occasions how satisfied they were with his loving. His jeans dropped and he lowered his boxers. She reclined on the pillow and extended her hand. He returned to her, wanting their lovemaking to be verbal.
“Do you like what you see?” he asked.
She nodded. “I do.”
He hooked his finger in the band of her thong and began to draw it down. He rolled the thin panty off her thighs. “Cara—the word means sweetheart. Are you sweet, Aniyah?”
“I can be,” she said and spread her knees.
“I want to know,” he told her. His face slipped between the cushions of her soft thighs. He inhaled her scent, the beautiful fragrance of her body’s desires. The first touch of his tongue across the lips of her sex caused her to quiver. Above him she squirmed. Her hand went to the back of his head and pressed him closer. He teased her. He wanted to delay the pleasure for them both, savor it as he would his favorite vino. His tongue traced the slick entrance of her opening and plunged into the tight wet channel. And then she unleashed what she had held back from him since the first time he touched her. Her pelvis gyrated and her inner muscles constricted around his tunneling tongue. She whimpered his name and it was music to his ears.
“Nic... Nicco... Niccolo,” she breathed through grunts and groans.
He wanted her to release. But not yet. So he drew away. And his gaze fell on those thick and plump dark nipples he’d nearly begged to suck the night he stole a forbidden kiss from her. He eased up her and traced his tongue to the tip and then his mouth covered her areola. He sucked as his pelvis rubbed up and down against the heat between her thighs. She was so soft and warm there. He was desperate to slip inside.
“Now, Niccolo. Now, please!” She grabbed his hair and pulled hard to get him off her nipple and tried to scoot lower so he could be inside her. She was ready.
Niccolo lifted his mouth from her breast and gave her another kiss as he arched his back. He dragged his manhood up off the sheet. The condom was in the pocket in his jeans. She didn’t ask why he had it. In a city surrounded by lovers even a widower would keep one nearby. Once his manhood was sheathed she ringed it with her hand. She guided him to her entrance. Braced on his hands, he lifted his belly to look between their bodies to see when their union began. He found her entrance then groaned and flexed his hips as he sank deeply inside her.
“Mmm, so good,” he wheezed.
She raised her legs and wrapped them around his hips and he went deeper. Every stroke he gave her was measured and slow.
“Yes! Oh, my, yes!” she said.
At first his strokes began slow and easy, but as the friction of his penis became sweltering hot from the motion, he lost his will for control. She dug her fingernails into his buttocks. He continued driving deep, deeper, deeper, with hard thrusts. Sweat dripped from his brow. His eyes were focused on her, only her. Maybe he was guilty of comparing her to his wife. But in that moment he learned so many differences he was shocked and overwhelmed by how lovely and mysterious a woman she was.
“How do you feel, cara?” he asked and settled on top of her. His forehead pressed to hers. Their breaths intermixing. He inserted his hands beneath her ass, cupping her to raise her. “Talk to me, bella,” he said. Squeezing her ass, he changed the angle of his penetration and this time he knew she felt it deeply.
“Yes!” she cried out.
Niccolo knew how to work his pelvis so the hairs that covered it could tickle her love bud and stimulate. His constant thrusting and the friction over her tiny nub had her scratching at his back.
“Come for me, sweetheart,” he said. He pounded hard and fast and the small mattress bounced, with the springs groaning and the headboard smacking the wall.
And then it came. All of it. The release of pleasure, frustration and love. Because in that moment two strangers learned that they could love again and that life does go on.
* * *
The ceiling above her had character. Cracks and shadows that shifted with flickering lantern flames. She lay on Niccolo’s chest. She liked the sound of his breathing.
“Hungry? There’s food, remember?”
“No. We can eat it later. I just want to lie here,” she said.
He rubbed her back.
“Then tell me your thoughts,” he said.
It sounded more like a suggestion than a command. She closed her eyes and tried to put words to her emotions. “When I was three, my mother and father died in a car crash. I was raised by my aunt.”
“I’m so sorry, cara. That must have been hard,” he said.
“I don’t know. Maybe it was. I was just a scared, confused kid. My family is good, though. My aunt is my mother’s sister, and she tried to keep her alive for me. Told me stories, kept mementos.”
“Like the pearls?” he asked.
She traced her fingers over the pearls attached to her necklace. “Yes. Like my pearls. My aunt has a daughter my age and a husband. I always saw them as my family. But now, I have to wonder,” she said.
“What is there to wonder? There is no tie stronger than blood,” he said.
“I have to wonder why I never truly felt it was enough. Why it meant so much for Denton to propose and for me to marry him on his terms, any terms. I just had this feeling of wanting something that would forever be mine. Not shared with anyone. Does that make sense?”
“Does it have to make sense to be true?” Niccolo asked.
She chuckled. “I suppose not. I’ve gone from one job to another. From one relationship to another. Denton was the only lasting relationship I’ve ever had, and it failed. I’m a mess.”
“No, no, cara, you aren’t.” He touched her cheek and traced his finger along her jaw.
Aniyah sat up. She turned and straddled him. She put her hands on either side of his head and braced against the headboard. She leaned in and brushed her lips across his. “I didn’t plan for this. I came to Italy to get away from love. And here I am in the most romantic place on earth.”
He ran his hands up her back, and she loved the way the motion felt. She could feel him harden beneath her. She sighed and closed her eyes as she moved front to back in a slow glide to stroke his erection, entice him. And it worked. She dropped her head back as his kisses traveled down the line of her neck to her collarbone. Aniyah gripped his shoulders and rose on her knees. She drew air in between her clenched teeth when he helped guide himself back to her opening and she eased down on his length.
“Too much?” he asked in a teasing voice.
She smiled. “It’s
how I like it.”
“Good, mmm, you are so good, cara, I can’t have enough.” He sucked her left and then her right breast as he tried to keep her to him. He squeezed her left butt cheek and she bounced up and down on him. The long strength of his penis stroked the right spot in her as she continued to move. Rippling spasms of desire spread and spiraled all through her pelvis. Aniyah went weak with emotion as she found herself pushed closer and closer to the edge.
“Let go, let go, sweetheart, I have you,” he said.
And she did. She cried out and her back arched, which shoved her chest into him. Hot and fast were the waves of passion radiating through her womb. She rarely climaxed so completely and so soon with any man. Not even Denton. She couldn’t believe how completely fulfilled it left her.
* * *
Niccolo turned from Aniyah’s door. It was hard not to ask her to invite him to explore their passions further. After the gift of body and soul he’d received from her, he didn’t want to push things. He pressed his hand to her closed door and then he retreated back downstairs to his room. As he made his way through his hotel in the darkness, he sensed someone. He stopped and glanced around. A shadow near the darkest corner of the lobby moved. The person approached him. He stood there waiting. It could be a guest who needed assistance, but something told him it wasn’t.
“Who’s there?” he asked.
“What are you doing, Niccolo?” his aunt asked in an angry whisper. “With that woman! I saw you two. She’s married!”
“It is none of your business, Zia. Go to bed,” he said and started off, but she blocked his way.
“You don’t even know her! This is Mya’s home. And you come back and disgrace her memory by sleeping with someone else’s wife? The first woman to walk through the door.”
The remark hit harder than a slap. Niccolo fought but failed to keep his rage from his voice before he spoke. “Who are you to judge me? Mya was my wife! Mine! And I mourned her. She’s dead, Zia. Dead! I can see whomever the hell I choose. And if you don’t like it, you can pack your bags and go back to Genoa. Do you understand me?”
