He starts to suck on my neck now, and I can’t fight him any longer. With him behind me, I take my arm and wrap it around his head. I run my fingers through his thick hair and rock my ass back into his massive bulge.
He spins me around and crashes his open mouth into mine. With one hand he grabs my hair and with the other he runs it over my shirt, our kisses hot and heavy. His hand reaches my breast and my nipples go hard—I moan from the back of my throat. My body reacts like it’s never been touched before—I can’t believe it. Traitor!
I decide to be bold and unzip his pants, but he grabs my hand.
“Not yet, cara,” he whispers. He seems to be just as affected as I am. Why stop? Did I do something wrong?
“What’s the matter?” I ask. My body was all-too-willing to give myself over to him.
“This isn’t where we are going to fuck for the first time. I don’t want it to be in a cleaning supply closet—you deserve better than that.”
“Oh really? Who put you in charge?”
The mood ends. I’m touched that he wants to give me more, but my horniness upsets me. I’m also a little crushed that he could resist me. I take my hands away from his cock that I swear was begging for me. We straighten up our clothes and leave the storage closet together. I can’t even think straight, and I stumble into a table leg outside the door. He catches me and holds me to his muscular chest. I feel the heat of his skin against my own.
“How am I supposed to trust you out on the streets of Rome by yourself? You can’t even walk in this caffé.”
“It’s not my fault you make me feel loopy. Stop judging. And I’m a big girl, I can handle myself well on my own.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.” He chuckles back at me as he lets me go.
We walk out the front door as I lock up. On the front step, we stare at each other awkwardly, neither knowing how to say goodbye.
“Thanks for stopping by today. I’m sure Marco will be happy to hear you like his nonna’s coffee shop.”
“Marco, huh? And you aren’t glad I stopped by, too?”
“Well … don’t push your luck.”
“Have fun at your party tonight. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
“So, no sex?” I say with a smirk. He looks a little shocked—two points for Elena.
“If you are having sex with other people, then we are done here.”
Did he really just say that to me? How dare he! We aren’t dating; we barely even know each other. And how do I know he’s not having sex with other people? What about the models?
“Whatever you say, captain. I’ll be sure to keep it in my pants … that is, if I want to end up having sex with you anyway.”
I hop off the step and head towards my apartment. He doesn’t chase after me, and I don’t look back.
5
“Damn, girl, you look good!” Alessandra says when I walk into the club. I’m wearing a skintight black dress that stops just above the knee. There’s lace around the collar, and I paired it with gold, open-toed high-heels.
This place—with its dim lights and bumping music—definitely has nightlife! Private rooms hidden behind curtains sit at the corners of the bar, high tables for table dancing dot the center of the room, and shirtless bartenders pour drinks. From the ceiling, women perform acrobatic tricks on silk ropes.
“Grazie! You, too, birthday girl!” I shout over the music. Alessandra would make even a frock look elegant, but she’s wearing a sexy little low-cut black dress that’s covered in sequins.
Alessandra introduces me to her friends—three brunettes, a redhead, and a blonde. Most of them chat in Italian, and it’s hard to hear over the music. I head over to the bar and ask for a cherry vodka with sugar-free Red Bull from a strapping young Italian and then head back to where the girls are dancing on the high tables. I climb up, proud of myself for not spilling my drink, and let go to the music. Just like I love to kickbox, I love to dance.
Three cherry vodkas and one shot of tequila in honor of the birthday girl later and I’m feeling a great buzz. Or maybe I’m drunk? I never drink this much and normally I’m a super lightweight. But I don’t care; I’m covered in sweat and can’t feel my feet—but having a great time with my new friends.
I head over to the bar to settle my tab when the bartender lets me know it’s already been paid. He nods his head in the direction of one of the secluded curtained-off areas. Curious, I walk towards the area and pull back the black curtain. Sitting on a dark red couch looking down at his smartphone is Leo. Did I just give him a nickname?
“What the heck are you doing here, Leo?” I say, testing out the new name. I stumble onto the couch, noticing he’s the only person in this room.
“Leo? No one calls me that.”
“Well … I’m not ‘no one’,” I say, with a new found confidence. Yep, I’m drunk.
“Si, you definitely are not ‘no one.’ You look like you are having a good time.”
“Have you been watching me all night? How did you know I was at this club? This is kind of creepy, dude.”
“I have my ways … dude.”
He knows I will not accept that bland answer, so he continues.
“I own this club. I had a last minute meeting with our marketing manager for a commercial we are launching this week. When I was leaving I noticed you shaking your ass on the dance blocks. You are very alluring, cara.”
Of course he’d own this club! I remind myself I need to Google him later—what else does he own?
Leo distracts me by picking up my feet and unbuckles the straps on my heels. He takes my right foot into his hands and rubs. Oh, my God. It’s like I’ve died and gone to heaven. I let out a small moan. I hope it was a small moan; I really shouldn’t be held responsible for my actions right now.
“Are you enjoying this?” he says, as he lifts my left foot to his mouth and slowly starts to plant kisses up my leg. He makes his way to my knee and then nibbles on my upper thigh.
“Do you want this?” he asks, as I notice his voice is a little hoarse.
“Yes,” I growl, distracted by his nearness to my pussy. Our sexual tension is so thick in the air between us. Get on with it already man!
He puts my leg down on the couch, and in a second, his face is in between my thighs and he’s pushing my dress up over my waist. He moves my thong to the side, and before I can think about what he’s going to do next, his mouth is sucking on my sex. I grab the couch as he starts to lick. His tongue is all over me—from my clit to inside my pussy.
“Oh, God, Leo,” I say and arch my back as I fist a pillow by my side.
He looks up at me from between my legs with a devilish grin and then sticks a finger inside of me as his hot tongue continues to circle my clit. I grind myself into him—fucking his face. He sticks another finger inside and bites down on my inner thigh and then licks his way back to my pussy. This is it! My orgasm feels like an explosion, and I scream out as my body quivers.
For the first time since I’ve walked behind the curtain, I remember that we are in a public place. I have never done anything like this before and instantly I’m embarrassed. I don’t have long to think about what we just did—my eyelids are heavy, and I pass out.
My head feels 100 pounds. Dear God, I feel like needles are stabbing my brain. What the hell happened last night? I have never gotten drunk enough to black out before. I swear I did not come to Italy to be reckless. Yes, I want to have fun but that was a little much. I need to get a hold of myself.
I open my eyes and I’m in the biggest bedroom I’ve ever seen. It’s got a gothic feel with black and red bed sheets and a big mahogany bed that I realize I’m the only person lying in right now. I’m still wearing yesterday’s little black dress, but my heels lay on the floor near the door. I must be at Leo’s? I pull the covers back, grab my heels, and walk to find out just where I am, killer hangover and all.
I walk barefoot, with heels in hand, down a giant marble staircase and head towards what smel
ls like the kitchen. Unlike the gothic feel in the bedroom, this kitchen is light and roomy. Double islands stand in the middle of the room; on one of them sits a bottle of water and two painkillers waiting for me.
“Good morning, bella,” I hear Leo say from behind me. I turn around and see him standing in the doorway wearing blue jeans hanging low on his hips, a plain black t-shirt, and bare feet. His hair is wet; he must have just left the shower. From brooding businessman to laid-back boy-next-door, he makes it all look extremely sexy. I can’t decide which I like better.
“Your house is amazing.”
“Grazie, bella,” he says as he pours himself a cup of coffee. He heads to the table and sits down right after pulling out a chair for me. I sit next to him and keep chugging my water.
“So what happened last night after we … you know?”
“ ‘You know?’ Are you afraid to say it, Elena?”
He picks up the morning paper and skims over it while still drinking his coffee.
“You know … after you gave me an orgasm with your tongue. Is that what you wanted to hear?”
I’m surprised I’m able to say the words—I have never spoken like this before, but I don’t want him to think I’m not experienced.
He laughs. “You passed out on the couch in the club. I told your friends that I was taking you home and then put you to bed.”
“My friends let you take me out of the club? They don’t even know you. Wow, some friends. I can’t believe it!”
“Elena, calm down,” he says as he takes my hand with his. “Those girls frequent the club and they have met me before. Plus, my life tends to make it in the gossip magazines and on entertainment news shows. Trust me, they know who I am. They did not send you off with some stranger.”
Oh, yeah. I realized that whenever I’m with Leo, I feel like it’s just us two, but all of Italy is watching him. I’m sitting at the kitchen table with the country’s most eligible bachelor.
Do I want this? My heart has been broken far too many times. I can’t seem to keep a man or make one happy. I know a man like Leo, a serial dater who can get anyone he wants, wouldn’t want anything long-term. I certainly don’t want to get my heart broken or waste anyone’s time. I should just end this before it goes any further.
I get up from the table and head towards the front door all in the matter of a second.
“Where are you going?” Leo says as he runs behind me, trying to catch up.
“I think I should go home now. I’ve overstayed my welcome.”
“I wouldn’t say that. You are welcome to stay as long as you wish,” he says as he looks confused.
“No thank you. I’ve got a life to get back to,” I say as I walk out the front door and slam it shut behind me. Again, he doesn’t chase me. Do I want him to? Why am I so confused about what I actually want?
When I get outside, I realize I have no idea where I am. It looks like we are in the countryside; it’s as beautiful outside as it is inside. A wrought iron gate stands at the end of a circular driveway; gorgeous purple Wisteria flowers drape the walls and gates. There’s even a water fountain in the middle of the driveway covered in moss.
I get out my iPhone, take a photo of the view, and then ask Siri to look for a cab service before a black town car pulls up in front of me. The older man who was with Leo when he picked me up at my apartment the other day rolls down the window and tells me to get inside; he will take me home. Now, normally, I wouldn’t get in a car with a stranger—well at least not twice in the matter of a few days—but I don’t know where the heck I am or how much a taxi ride will be. Plus I seem to be breaking all the rules I’ve set for myself since landing in Italy.
I climb into the backseat. The glass divider is down, and I take the time to study the driver: he’s tall with silver white hair, a moustache, and black-framed glasses; for his age he looks strong.
“I don’t even know your name,” I say to break the awkward silence.
“My name is Mateo, Elena.” He puts an emphasis on my name to let me know that he knows exactly who I am.
“Thanks for driving me home. I appreciate the offer.”
“I would love to say the idea was my own. I would never make a lady walk or, worse, take a taxi, but my boss is very gracious. It was his idea.”
“Yeah, what a guy,” I say with a chuckle.
“You’d be surprised,” he replies as he switches his glasses to a dark pair. Great, now I can’t read his expression in the rearview mirror.
“Where are we?” I ask as I glance out the window at the picturesque landscape.
“We are in Tivoli, just outside of Rome. Signor Forte has an apartment in the city close to his office, and then he has this place, which is, as you say in America, his pride and joy, and a few other places.”
I stare out the window and take in the view as I nod off into a nap. Hangovers suck!
“Signorina Scott, we are to your apartment now,” I hear Mateo gently say as he stops the town car in front of my building.
“Grazie, signor.”
“No need to thank me,” he says as he opens the door for me. I step out of the town car and head towards the building when I hear Mateo mumble something under his breath.
“Scusi, I didn’t catch that?”
“I said don’t judge him too quickly. Signor Forte gives the ones he loves the world.”
I stare back at him in shock. Is the driver really giving me dating advice? That’s how bad my life is right now.
“I’m sorry, it’s not my place to talk,” he adds after he sees my surprised face.
“That’s okay! Dating advice keeps coming my way,” I laugh, thinking about signora Lucca’s advice from yesterday. Yesterday, that seems like a long time ago.
6
Monday morning rolls around, and I stroll back to the caffé to work my shift. I open the place and start brewing, setting out the pastries and treats Marco made early that morning. It smells delicious in here.
Waiting for my first customer, I stand at the counter and daydream about life back at home and my family. I miss them. The last time I spoke to my mom she told me that she and my dad were planning a vacation to Florida. This reminds me of being a kid, when our family would load up into the minivan and drive 24 hours from Michigan to Florida each summer. I give my parents credit for surviving being trapped in a van with three little kids for so long. #Troopers
The daydream quickly ends when I hear the bell chime as my first customer comes in—it’s time to get to work.
The customers are flying in, and I don’t realize the hours have passed so quickly until Marco shows up to let me know my shift is over.
“Ciao, Elena, did you hear the good news?” he asks me with a big smile as he starts to put on his apron.
“Good news? Can’t say I have. The only thing I’ve heard are orders for espresso from a bunch of over-caffeinated Italians,” I laugh as I take my apron off.
“Our most eligible bachelor is in the papers again!”
My heart drops. Could he have moved on so quickly? I think Marco sees that I’m looking a little pale and worried.
“Are you okay?”
“What’s he in the paper for?”
He gives me a once-over and then hands me the latest issue of TMZ Italia. I take a second to catch my breath and then I look: “Rome’s Most Eligible Bachelor Spotted At Local Caffé” … that’s it? Thank sweet baby Jesus! My jealous nerves disappear—I realize I was afraid to see him on the cover with another supermodel so quickly. But why should I care? I ran out of his house like a bat out of hell.
“I think we should hang it up and frame it! It’s like royalty was hanging out here,” Marco says as he starts to take out a tack to put the paper on the bulletin board.
“Are you really going to hang that thing up? Come on, don’t be tacky.” I giggle as he pins it to the board with pride.
“Okay, Elena, tell me what this is really about. You looked like you might, as you say in America, �
�toss your cookies’ when I told you he was in the paper.”
I can tell he means well—his face is always friendly.
“Well … we kind of went out the other night, and then I ran out of his house the next morning and haven’t heard from him since.”
He pauses for longer than necessary and finally says, “Why did you leave?”
“Why? He’s Rome’s most eligible bachelor, that’s why.”
“What is wrong with that? Do you want to get married?”
“Whoa, whoa. I never said I wanted to get married! Slow down.”
“So you don’t want to date an eligible bachelor but you also don’t want to get married. Tell me again what the problem is?”
“You ask a lot of questions!” I say with a huff.
“Do you say that because you just don’t want to be honest with yourself about why you ran off?”
#NailedIt
“Fine. I ran off because I’ve dated way too many people who are just like him or worse. I don’t do well with relationships and I always have the worst luck. If it were to happen this time, then the whole world—at least all of Italy—will know and see my failure.”
“What else?”
He stares at me. Okay, this man is good. How does he know there’s more?
“What if I’m not good enough and can’t make him happy?”
Here we go again with another long pause from Marco. What the hell does he think about when he’s quiet for so long?
“That’s impossible. Did these past boyfriends like him make you feel like you weren’t special?”
#Bingo
I look away from Marco’s face as I talk because his interrogation pierces my heart.
“A few. I mean I didn’t date a bunch of guys, but the ones I did … it never ended well. It usually had to do with them either cheating, thinking they could do better than me or because I was ‘boring’—always working. And a man like Leo would want someone who is exciting, alluring, and just wants something quick.”
Man. That’s tough to get out without feeling like an absolute loser.
“The fact that Leo came here and, as the papers say, sat here for hours working shows he has some kind of interest in you.”
My Mr. Beautiful: Eternal City Love, Book 1 Page 3
