Unconventional (The Manhattanites #4)

by Avery Aster

  He held on to my hips, pressing me firmly down on him.

  “What are you doin’?” I asked, unable to move.

  He prevented me from riding him.

  “Just wait, dolce.”

  “Show some control,” Rocco suggested. Behind me, he spread the apple of my ass cheeks apart.

  I wiggled my bum. Back in the day, when we’d first started dating, I used to love anal. But you had to be in the mood for it and lately, I hadn’t.

  He licked his fingers then began probing me, inserting one then two fingers in my ass.

  “Tonight, dolce, we’re going to make love like never before.”

  “Sì, with no condoms on my vajayjay, but let’s still use them on my bum.” The last thing I needed to get on this trip was an infection.

  “That and something else.”

  While Rocco caressed my backside, I leaned forward and kissed Luigi on the lips.

  With him inside me, I could feel it getting thicker by the second.

  “What?” I asked.

  Slowly, Rocco withdrew his fingers before sheathing his cock in latex. Prodding himself at my backside, his breath quickened as he slid himself inside me. Shallow at first. Then deep. Deeper. Massaging the kinks out of my shoulders, he said, “Relax.”

  “Promise me. Go slow. It’s been a while.” I tried to get comfortable with having them both inside me at the same time. Complete satisfaction.

  Any second now…

  I anticipated Rocco’s hips would start thrusting. Luigi’s dirty talk would ensue. Maybe one would pull my hair into a ponytail. Suck on my breasts. Something. Anything.

  Nothing. Nada. Zilch.

  Luigi appeared confident and leaned his back against the wall, away from me.

  With Rocco still planted firmly in my ass, he also said nothing.

  “Ciao. Let’s get this sexual safari started!” I shouted.

  “Beg,” Luigi instructed through tight lips.

  “What?”

  “You heard him.” Rocco repeated, “Beg.”

  I laughed. “Since when have I ever begged for you two to fuck me?”

  The question hung in the air like a storm cloud, growing darker by the second.

  “Ohhh…I get it now.”

  Luigi dipped his chin in my direction. “Do you want us, dolce?”

  “Sì, very much.” I nodded.

  “How do you want us?” Rocco muttered in my right ear.

  I brought my body up a bit, clenching my cunt, watching him try to resist me.

  He couldn’t. Not this pussy.

  I should say something romantic and brilliant, but I didn’t have words to describe what I wanted.

  “Speak,” he demanded.

  “I want us to be one.” I pushed myself against his chest while I rode him down then back up again. A rush of, “Yes, oh, yes” riveted through me as my back curved up, taking more of Rocco’s girth.

  “Not good enough.” His grip on my hips tightened as he pulled me into him, keeping me still.

  “Try again,” Rocco said simply in my other ear.

  I whimpered. I wasn’t going to turn into some needy, clingy, begging thing. But I knew what they wanted from me.

  To beg. To say I needed them. To demonstrate I couldn’t live without them. To show them they were my universe.

  “Before I tell you what I want, let me remind you of a few things.”

  He leaned forward and nipped at my left breast, first with his tongue then delicately he tugged with his teeth on my nipple.

  A chill, which started out like ice and turned to fire, ran through me.

  “Feels bueno?” he asked.

  “Sì, don’t forget the other one.” I cupped my left breast and pointed it in his direction.

  Just as he went to lick my skin, I pulled back and against Rocco instead, allowing him to massage my breasts in front of Luigi. I muttered, “Don’t play games with me, amore.”

  “This isn’t a game, dolce.” He grabbed me, pulling me into him, and Rocco broke his embrace. Luigi sucked on my other breast. Talking dirty between tongue-lashings, he growled, “Don’t forget. You’ll do as we say.”

  Squeezing my legs tight, I grinned, feeling the girth of him swell inside me.

  “Rocco, I think putting Jemma on top was a bad idea.”

  I frowned.

  “Shall we stand?” Rocco asked.

  Before I could argue, they both rose to their feet, holding on to me. Luigi was still planted firmly between my legs with Rocco in my rear.

  They lowered my body down.

  “Now you’re in our hands.”

  “Sì, your little fuck toy,” I joked.

  “No. Our future wife,” Luigi groaned. Unable to resist, his hips thrust against Rocco’s as they penetrated deeper inside me.

  “That’s it, boys. Fuck me. Come on, now!” I cried out.

  Rocco’s cock jetted in and out of my behind. So tight. So filling.

  Oh. God. I held on for dear life.

  “I love you, Jemma,” Luigi said huskily in my ear, facing me, drilling into me.

  “I do, too,” I replied.

  He thrust in deeper.

  As my breath hitched, my body was like hot lava pouring down the side of an active volcano.

  “I need to hear you say it,” he demanded.

  Gazing up at him, I saw the need in his eyes. Not for sex, but love. “I love you, too, amore. I always have. Always will.” I leaned my body into his and pulled myself up by his shoulders. Turning my head away, I didn’t want him to see the happy tears. They were so unexpected.

  Rocco could tell I was overwhelmed, and his pace had slowed down a bit. His butt-fucking wasn’t as fast as it was when we’d first started.

  “I’m going to come,” Luigi said and bit onto my earlobe.

  “Me, too,” I wailed.

  “You better hang on.” Luigi groaned and jerked his pelvis forward, faster, harder.

  The pleasure. The ecstasy.

  “Oh. My. God.” My upper lip quivered as my toes curled.

  “Sì. Fuuuck. Sì!” Erupting inside me, his hot seed packed firmly as I rode my wave of bliss.

  He kept thrusting inside me, even after he’d come. Watching me. My joy. My love.

  As the orgasm ended, I clenched my cunt muscles tight, milking every last drop.

  Body glistening, pure muscle, Rocco pulled out from my behind and went to rest on the sofa, saying, “My turn.”

  Luigi lowered me onto him.

  “I thought you didn’t like me on top,” I said.

  “You’re always on top with me,” he replied and pulled my wet body against his. His cock, thick and long, slid into me tightly.

  I grinded on him for a bit, getting comfortable, rotating my hips clockwise.

  His eyes, vivid brown, flashed back at me.

  Just when I didn’t think I could take any more of him, that he was all the way inside me, he had to be, I slowly rotated my hips in the opposite direction—counterclockwise. Aroused like never before. “I’m so hungry for you, bello,” I murmured and started to ride him.

  “So bueno. I love this.” His upward thrusts quickened in speed and shortened in depth. His face buried between my breasts, his tongue explored the rosy peaks of my flesh as they grew to pebble hardness.

  “Ti amo,” I said, feeling a magnificent fire between my legs.

  Another orgasm crashed over me.

  My boyfriends always made me climax in multiples.

  The pleasure was pure and explosive. Images from a few years ago of us at the Festa del Redentore in Venice played in my mind. Such naughty memories. We’d made love all night on the pontoon bridge. That night, the fireworks illuminated the Mediterranean sky. Much like how my orgasm had just lit up inside of me.

  “I love you more,” he said.

  Lip to lip, tongue to tongue, we kissed intensely for a minute or two. He cried out in pleasure when he came inside me.

  After the orgasm we rested above all the
pillows, satin fabric clinging to our wet skin.

  The prisms above us camouflaged the room with rays of light.

  I wondered if my tears of happiness showed. I felt so at home with my boys.

  This is my piece of heaven in my sky.

  Will tomorrow’s sunshine feel as warm as I do inside right now?

  A sensation of love wrapped around me, around us. I was cocooned in the feeling of affection and belonging to them both.

  Their skin. My love for them. Like liquid. I wanted to drink it. Pouring down like rain. Like fine wine, I could get drunk on my love for them. I wanted to bathe in it. Let it flow through my veins. There was no substitute for my love for them. No fashion line I could create would ever surpass the sense of completion to be with them, and I’d jumped through many of life’s hoops and obstacles to be there.

  Whether I liked it or not, I’d already changed my life for them. Why had I even resisted? Probably the fear of trading in my fame and fortunes for love. Before Luigi and Rocco came into my life, my days had been spent so selfishly.

  Silly, actually.

  I’d had so many lovers over the years. Some greedy, others just too needy. None like Luigi and Rocco. Ever! With the fortunes life had brought me, I could buy anything I wanted. Regardless, no one would ever bring me love like those two men.

  My chin rested against Luigi’s ripped chest, gazing up at his face. I could see the pain I’d caused him over the year. The anger and hurt he’d accumulated in recent weeks, since our last vacation. Fine lines had set deeply around his eyes ever since I’d rejected their marriage proposal.

  “I’m sorry to both of you for everything,” I muttered, frustrated with myself. “I wish I could take back our last holiday and start over.”

  “Don’t apologize, dolce.” A cry broke from Rocco’s lips. “Just do what your heart desires.”

  “How? I don’t even know where to begin with you two. Or how to make it up to you both.” Tears streaked my face. “I’ve been so selfish. This feels so good right now. How could I have ever turned my back on this? On us? I can’t believe I shut down like that.”

  Luigi’s face came up to mine. “Just love us.” Our lips touched, and his tongue warmed my cold mouth. After we kissed, I rested on him. Massive. I could spend all night on top of him.

  Staring up at the lights which danced rainbows on the wall, I played the question I’d been dreading to ask for months in my head. The question no breast cancer survivor wants to ask. The question every breast cancer survivor thinks about. It was what had gnawed away at my self-confidence throughout the past year. I’d tucked it away for so long but that, in the dark, covered in their love, I had to know. I counted back from five, four, three, two, one, and blurted, “What if I get sick again?”

  They both sat up. Glaring at me, faces frozen in silence, sympathy in their eyes.

  Fuck. Say something.

  “One of us is going to die before the other,” Rocco said matter-of-factly. His wide forehead wrinkled as he continued, “We can’t defy death. We can only enjoy life.”

  Luigi stroked my arm. “That’s another benefit of us being in this thruple. When one of us dies…the other two won’t be left alone.”

  A warm glow flowed through me. I smiled hearing his optimism and confessed, “I hadn’t thought about it like that before. Let me ask you something else, and I want you to be honest with me.”

  They both nodded.

  “If I die…will you two promise me you’ll stay together?”

  “Always and forever,” Rocco replied without any hesitation. “’Til the end of time, and we’ll see you up there in Heaven or wherever our souls go when we die.”

  “We have no intention of taking on another girlfriend,” Luigi added.

  As I tried to grasp what they’d said, I snuggled close between them and closed my eyes. My heart sang inside just like Birdie’s beautiful voice had earlier with joy.

  Rocco hands glided over my backside. He liked to trace his fingers over my scars from the surgery. He called them my angel wings. I wanted to have them tattooed, eventually.

  He’d once said to me, “Breast cancer isn’t a pink ribbon. It’s a disease which takes lives. If you survive…if you’re able to go on with the days ahead of you, then you’ll be a supernatural creature living and walking among us.”

  I loved that he’d said that to me.

  I thought about Rocco’s words so often.

  Especially after we’d made love, like that night.

  I pressed my body next his. Smelling him, tasting his breath, he butterfly-kissed the scars, and my pain away.

  Shopping. Making love. Dancing. Music. Food. BDSM clubs. Leather. We did it all!

  We ate kaffee und kuchen, did a photo shoot in Grunewald Forest, explored the flea-markets at Mauer Park, walked (and fucked) on the Berlin Wall, and played in the gardens of Schloss Charlottenburg, and by played, I mean fucked some more.

  The week in Berlin flew by like a whirlwind.

  With more fashion sketches than I’d ever thought possible, I’d come up with several new dresses for my upcoming collection. Inspired by the labyrinth where we’d made love, they had prisms of crystals which hung from them. Purple and red hues. So romantic, and yet psychedelic and trendy.

  We only had two more days left in Germany then we were off to Russia.

  I knew what I needed to do. Correction—what I wanted to do. I couldn’t deny them any longer. Or myself, for that matter. After the boys had fallen asleep one night at the hotel, I reached for my cell phone and slipped into the bathroom.

  Sitting on the edge of the porcelain tub, I called Prince Massimo.

  I can’t believe I’m doing this…

  “Ciao, Jemma,” he greeted on the second ring.

  “Masi, I need a favor. When we leave here, I’m going to have the pilot make an unexpected trip to Isola di Girasoli.”

  “Aren’t you scheduled to go to Moscow?”

  “Sì. But there’s been a change of plans.” Trying to focus, I put a strand of hair in my mouth and sucked on it nervously like I did when I was a kid.

  “You’re cancelling the sexual safari?”

  “Sì…”

  “Do the guys know about this?”

  “No.”

  “But why? The pubblicità is going well for Jemma Couture. Signorina Brill is going to have a fit. Lex emailed me the drawings you’ve done for the next collection. Everything looks sorprendente. Our stocks have gone up. Investors seem happy.”

  I held my breath while he huffed and puffed into the phone.

  “I’ll explain when I get there.”

  “Jemma!”

  “Masi, per favore. Don’t ask questions. Can you, Lex and the rest of the Manhattanites meet us at your palace?”

  “Tell me what you’re up to.”

  “Just trust me. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”

  “Is it a matter of life and death?” he asked.

  “Not death, you ass.” I laughed. “Life, Masi. Life.”

  “Okay, okay. Lex, Taddy, Blake, and I will see you at Isola di Girasoli in two days. I don’t think we can get Vive out of rehab again, but I can try.”

  “Grazie,” I said and hung up.

  A Celebration of Life

  Luigi

  Two days later

  Isola di Girasoli

  Che cosa?

  After we’d taken off from Berlin, I didn’t know how much time had passed since I’d fallen asleep. Maybe three or four hours.

  Damn.

  I blamed the two tumblers of scotch I’d drunk before departure. I hated flying, and Prince Massimo’s pilot jetted the thing around as if it were a taxi in Milano.

  When I’d awoken, we’d already landed.

  We were on the tarmac. The plane’s wheels had come to a complete stop, and the engines turned off.

  The jet’s door opened.

  We weren’t in Russia. At least it didn’t feel like it.

  For starte
rs, the sun blinded me. Bright white, almost pink rays shined through the windows illuminating everything.

  Not in the Eurasia way I’d expected.

  Second, there was humidity in the air. Coming into the cabin from the outside, it practically blanketed me in hot moisture.

  Then I smelled the briny, salt air. Mmm, and the sweet smell of…sunflowers? Followed by the sounds of seagulls.

  “Dolce!” I jumped to my feet, almost hitting my head on the ceiling. “What the hell is going on?”

  “Calm down, my darlings.” Wearing a slinky dress Rocco had picked out for her the previous day while shopping, she strutted down the aisle toward me.

  I glanced over to my left.

  On the cabin’s sofa, shaking his head, my bello drank a glass of red wine as if he hadn’t a care in the world. “I knew she wouldn’t be able to let us be in charge of our sexual safari. She changed the course.”

  “Get up.” Taking a cookie from his hand, I swatted at him.

  Jemma’s heart-shaped face with those full pink lips, high forehead, small chin, button nose, narrow jaw, high cheekbones, clear olive skin, wide-set eyes—all of it together—radiated a coy level of sensuality. I found her disposition infuriating and alluring at the same time.

  “Where are we?” I crossed my hands over my chest and set my jaw.

  “Don’t you recognize this place?” With a smile from ear to ear, she put her hands out to her sides and spun around, nearly knocking Rocco’s glass from his hands.

  Too mad, I couldn’t even see out the damn window.

  “Silly. We’re on Isola di Girasoli.”

  “Why did you bring us here?” I asked her. When she gave no answer, I glared at Rocco for one.

  “She wouldn’t tell me till you woke up.” He finally got off his ass and stood next to me.

  I nudged him with my shoulder. “And why didn’t you wake me up sooner?”

  “Dolce said not to.” He shrugged.

  Without warning, Jemma got down on one knee. Right in front of us. She reached out for our hands and asked, “Will you marry me?”

  “Whaaa—” Shocked, amazed, my mouth hung open.

  “Today?” Rocco’s voice raised in surprise.

  “Sì,” she replied. Her features became more animated.