by Mj Fields
“I told you not to,” he hisses.
“I couldn’t have been with another. I could never be with another.”
I hear the door open and shut from behind again and step back.
He doesn’t turn around.
“Our daughters go to bed at eight o’clock at night. By nine, I am normally done pleading for them to actually go to sleep.”
He glances over his shoulder at me. “I expect you to come and show me why I waited.”
“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” he warns.
“I certainly do.”
I turn and look at Vincent. “Please take him to a nice dinner. And the man needs some new clothes.”
I don’t look back at him. I simply walk into the house.
Before dinner, I do what most mothers do when they need a break, or should I say, a breakdown. I hide in the bathroom and cry away my anger and frustration.
After dinner, the girls and I walk along our private beach with Aunt Joe, collecting shells. Before she leaves, she hugs me and tells me she loves me, that we will talk tomorrow.
I lie in bed, knowing that, although our daughters didn’t ask about him, they suspect the man they saw for the first time in their lives is their father. I also suspect it has something to do with coaching from Aunt Joe.
It’s nine o’clock at night when I message Vincent, asking about Franco’s whereabouts. He informs me I should hear from him soon.
At ten o’clock, I walk out onto the balcony and drink my third glass of champagne alone, becoming angry. Again, I reason with myself that he has a huge adjustment to make, being a free man, and another at finding out he is a father.
I walk back into my room and to the bathroom where I look at myself in the mirror, hoping I am still beautiful to him.
I have on a champagne colored robe overtop a black, lacey nightgown. I am waxed, threaded, manicured, and polished. If he doesn’t think so, he is wrong.
I walk back out and into my room, shrugging off my robe before pulling back the champagne colored duvet and climbing into bed. When I look at the clock again, I see it’s ten fifteen p.m.
I close my eyes and try to stop myself from becoming angry. Instead, I remember my recurring dream of the past eight years.
Atop a bed of chocolate silk, I sit up and remove my lacey nighty. Then I lie down, completely naked and spread, waiting for him.
Like my dream, the French doors to the balcony overlooking the ocean are open, a breeze blowing the sheer, champagne colored curtains hanging from them. My nipples peak when the cool, midnight ocean breeze sweeps across my heated and wanton body.
I cup my breasts and tug gently on the diamonds adorning the ends of the piercings, sending a wave of pleasure down my body until it reaches my core. My pussy clenches as I stroke my fingertips down my body and cup myself, applying just enough pressure to intensify my need. I gently rub around my clit, causing more pressure and pleasure to build, to burn, to ready myself.
Sliding a finger into my center, I moan as I curve it up, hitting my sweet spot, while using the other hand to pinch my nipple harder.
Closing my eyes, I continue to build the desire as I wait for him, for real this time.
When I hear footsteps on my balcony, I open my eyes.
Shivers run down my spine when I look into his milk chocolate eyes as they rake down my body.
“Valentina,” he groans in a low, animalistic rasp.
“I’ve been waiting for you.”
“We have much to discuss.”
“Not now, Franco, not now.”
“Valentina …” he sighs.
“I need you.”
He lowers his head and takes a deep breath. Then he unbuttons his crisp gray shirt, slowly revealing his exquisite body inch by inch to me.
As he steps closer, I gasp and begin to sit up, to touch the parts of him that are changed. The scars that cover his ripped muscles.
“Valentina, no. Not now. I need you, too.”
I lie back and focus on the black ink covers his hard, ripped body, causing more fire to burn deep inside me.
When his shirt falls to the ground, he runs his hand over his thick black hair that reveals more specks of silver near his temples. Just like in my dreams, he aged like the finest of wines made of the grapes grown in the vineyards we once played in as children.
“You waited for me, Valentina?” His voice is husky and oozes with desire, desire for me.
“Of course.” I purr, allowing my legs to fall to the sides, giving him a better look at what I know causes his mouth to water, showing him what he yearns to taste, to touch. Displaying what once was his and still is.
He unhurriedly unbuckles the black belt around his trim waist, letting it hang open as he slowly works his button and zipper with his thick, long fingers. He then pulls his belt out inch by glorious inch, one loop at a time, as he watches me rub my soaked slit.
“Your pussy is more beautiful now than I remember when I tasted it all those years ago.”
He pushes his thumbs slowly under the waistband of his undone slacks, providing me a glimpse of the deep-cut muscles that form a V.
I lick my lips, wetting them, preparing them for him.
My love.
He pushes his slacks down slightly, just enough to tease and torment me, exposing the thick root of his cock.
Yes, my insides clench.
I watch him push his pants farther down.
He is beautiful.
His cock is growing thicker before my eyes.
He pushes his slacks farther down.
I know his cock like it is a part of me. I know how much is still covered.
He pushes his pants down fully now and stands up.
I remember how his cock doesn’t stand erect. It can’t. His thick, heavy cock hangs between his legs perfectly, resting against tight, large, magnificent balls.
I inhale the salty scent of the sea air, willing him closer so I can smell his manly scent over it.
He grips his cock, swiping his thumb across the broad head. Then he lifts it up and rubs his forefinger against his thumb, spreading the pre-cum between them as he walks closer to me.
He grabs my ankles, pulling my legs farther apart as he kneels between my legs, dips his head, and inhales deeply.
“Fuck, I’ve missed your cunt.”
A quivering moan escapes me as he buries his face between my legs and I come immediately.
“Your pussy is soaked. Your desire is beading up on that beautiful fucking skin. I need to taste you.” His voice is thick, full of need and desire.
He stands then ducks his head, taking one of my breasts in his hand. “What’s this?” he asks, tugging gently on my piercing.
“Jewelry,” I moan out.
He leans in and takes the other in his mouth, sucking, pulling, pinching, and licking on . I nearly fall apart again. Then he reaches between my legs while popping my breast out of mouth.
“So fucking wet.”
“Yes,” I whimper. “God, yes.”
Capitolo Cinque
Franco
I see it in her eyes—desire. The same desire I saw years ago from the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.
I am breathless and unsure of what I want to do next. That’s not true.
“I’m going to feast between your thighs.”
“I want you inside me,” she begs.
“I know you need to fuck, and I’m not without need. But I have been starving, Valentina, starving without you.”
“Take what you want, Franco. Everything I have is yours.”
Ignoring the true meaning behind her words, I kiss her cheek, then down her sensual throat until I lick across her belly.
She whimpers when I lick over her center, tonguing her hot, bare, swollen lips. Then I kiss up to her flat, trim belly again. Her belly that held the two children she bore. Two beautiful children.
She rubs the side of my head gently, as if she knows what I am thinking. Then she ho
lds my head against her body, and I take just a moment to mourn the time I lost with her, with them.
Turning my head, I rub my lips against her soft skin before working my way back down her body.
I push myself between her legs and kneel. “Sei bellissimo.” I run my finger over her bare skin, feeling the damp heat again as I inhale her fragrance.
She whimpers when I bend down to place my lips softly against her skin, and then I lick her gentler this time.
“You taste so much better than I remember. I have never tasted anything so exquisite before.”
I spread her wider now and lap at her hot cunt, wondering how I survived all these years without tasting her. How I will survive any tomorrows without her.
I slip my tongue inside her slit and taste her juices. I lick hard, then slowly up until I’m almost at her clit, and then back down. She gets wetter and wetter as I try to devour her lick by lick.
She cries out my name and God’s as she thrusts against my mouth. We are in purgatory together, and she deserves so much more. She deserves heaven. Therefore, I finally circle her clit and suck it between my lips. And in her cries and moans, in the way her body responds, at the wetness covering my mouth, I know I have delivered her there.
I look up at her and watch as she basks in her release. I allow her a moment to enjoy it before shoving my tongue harshly inside her as I thrust my cock against the mattress, fucking it like I should be her. However, my need is driven by the addictive taste of her cunt, overtaking my need for my own pleasure.
When my balls are so tight I feel them nearly in my throat, I throw my head back and allow her name to release into the cool, evening breeze as my cum spills on her silk sheets.
“Franco,” she pants. “Did you—”
“Shh,” I tell her, laying my face on her thigh and kissing the soft skin as she gently rubs her fingertips over my scalp.
“But …”
“Valentina, bellissima Valentina, shhh,” I sigh.
“Okay.”
After several moments, my eyes become heavy.
“Are you asleep, Franco?”
“Not yet,” I whisper.
“Will you sleep between my legs, amante, or share a pillow with me?”
“This is heaven, Valentina. I prefer to be here. But if you need—”
“Stay, amante, stay.”
I wake groggy but not confused. I look down between my legs to beautiful black waves of silky hair covering my bare abdomen. I feel her lips against places I know well. Places I have been stabbed or cut.
I don’t move. I lie still in selfish acceptance of the care she gives me. Then I feel myself harden fast, so fucking fast.
With her fingertip, she lightly traces my head before she leans down and licks it.
She licks up the underside of my cock, her tongue flat, applying the perfect amount of pressure. Then she reaches down and cups my balls. I allow my legs to fall apart.
She looks up at me, and then back down.
“You want to taste me, Valentina, do it.”
She licks the pre-cum from my tip then licks it again before looking up, seeking approval as she strokes me up and down.
I push into her hand as she pulls her hair to one side then descends, taking as much of me as she can. With her tongue flat against my heated veins, she sucks hard as she ascends. The breeze blows against my wet and heated, saliva-soaked skin. Then she wraps her hand around it, the warmth of her touch as welcoming as the harsh suction on the half of my cock still in her hot fucking mouth.
She pumps harder, sucking fiercely before she descends again, gripping my cock as if it’s hers to do with as she pleases.
Her mouth leaves me momentarily as she slides her tongue down the underside again, not stopping at the root. She sucks one of my balls inside her mouth, rubbing her tongue around, under, and on top while gently sucking. She lets it fall out of her mouth, licks up my cock again, and then back down where she sucks the other ball the same way.
Pushing myself up on my elbows, I watch her suck both in her hot, wet mouth then listen to her moan as if it pleases her. I know it does.
“Voglio mangiarti la fica.” I want to eat your pussy, I tell her, sitting up and gripping her hips before swinging her body around.
Her pussy on my face and her mouth on my cock, I momentarily believe I am in heaven, not stuck in purgatory on my way to hell.
She grinds against my face as I thrust into her mouth, giving, receiving, tasting, sucking, pleasing, and taking pleasure.
She gasps as her pussy contracts around my tongue. She’s coming.
“Don’t stop, Valentina, don’t stop.” I replace my tongue with my finger and suck her clit as she pumps and sucks me until I come with her.
Panting, she begins to dismount, but I hold her still by gripping her ass and pulling her down atop me. I wrap my arm around her waist and hold her heated, sweat-slicked, cum-moistened skin against my body.
After several moments, she sighs. “I need a shower.”
I look left and see it’s just after one in the morning.
She slides off me, naked and beautiful. I watch her walk to the bathroom and consider getting up myself, but I’m fucking exhausted.
I hear water running, and then she walks out of the bathroom, still naked, her hair pulled to the side. She walks to the bed and holds out her hand. “Come join me.”
“I don’t want to move.”
When she leans down and kisses me, I realize, as much as I missed her pussy, I may have missed this affection even more.
Against my lips, she whispers, “You smell like pussy.”
“I don’t mind at all.”
She laughs. “Come with me.”
“I don’t think—” I stop when she kisses me again.
She whispers against my skin. “Come.” She then takes my hand and pulls me up. I step off the bed and follow behind her.
Nine years ago, I wouldn’t have been impressed with the grandeur of her home, but after living in a ten by twelve room for most of those years, walking into a bathroom twice the size reminds me of leaving my childhood home and walking into the Segretti estate.
She bends over the large, round soaking tub and turns off the water. Then she steps onto the one step and lowers herself in before turning to me. “Come, Franco, come soak with me.”
I step into the tub and sit opposite her as she reaches over and lights a candle.
“Would you like to talk about your scars?”
I shake my head.
She smiles sadly and looks down. “Our children?”
I feel my chest squeeze and look away.
“Right. We should start out by getting to know one another again.”
I look back at her, not saying a fucking word.
“I’ll start.”
I want to tell her no, that coming here was a mistake. It was. I never intended on seeing her. I never intended on feeling like a thousand years have passed. Yet, at the same time, it feels like not even a minute has gone by.
“I run a business,” she begins. “I needed something to keep me busy while I was pregnant. When Mel—”
“Sabato’s wife?” I interrupt.
She looks at me with amusement in her eyes at my obvious jealousy.
“My friend, yes. Our children attend the same school.”
I look away.
When water is splashed in my face, I look back and she smiles.
My thoughts escape me. “How is it you look no different than you always have after all these years?”
She blushes. “I keep active.”
I nod.
“Clearly, you have, as well.”
“Yes, that one hour a day of rec time was great for my physique.”
She smiles. “Well, it appears so.”
She leans back and the water once covering her breast ripples. They enamor me.
“You like?”
I look up at her eyes. “Why did you pierce them?”
“Well �
��” She shakes her head. “Through therapy, I learned that we do things to take control when we feel mostly out of control.”
“You have a therapist?”
She scowls slightly. “I did for eight months.”
“Because of me?”
“Because of life, Franco.”
“I see,” I say, stretching my neck.
She sits forward, grabs a loofa, turns around, and pulls her hair to the side. “Do you mind?” With that, she hands me the loofa and leans forward. “The body wash is to your left.”
I look at her back, not moving.
“So, I did therapy, which was all right, I guess.” She looks back at me. “I have to tell you something.”
“Yes?”
“It was court-ordered.”
“Did you get in trouble?”
She looks at me as if she’s taken aback. “I had an order of protection filed against me.”
“So, it was me.” I close my eyes and shake my head.
“Well then, yes, it was you,” she says.
I set the loofa down and begin to stand.
“Where are you going?”
“I can’t do this.”
“If you think you’re leaving because I said it was you, then let me explain.” She grips my knee hard. “And I’ll explain while you wash my back.”
Not wanting a fight, I do as she asks. I squirt body soap onto the loofa then begin rubbing her back.
“As you know, I was never in control of my emotions. I let them lead me instead of me leading them.”
Understatement of a lifetime, I think to myself.
“In therapy, I did what was required, but I learned that my emotions ran me. I learned that I do things, like shop, to exert some control. From being around my family, I learned that I didn’t always have to shop, or go to clubs, or be entertained when they surrounded me. I watched them and learned from them. I watched Dominic and saw him soar, building the life we missed as children. I figured out I needed more in my life.” She turns and looks at me. “A career.”
I nod.
She continues, “I considered going back to university, but I was pregnant and not feeling well. I started getting depressed because I realized I had accomplished nothing that would make our children smile at me, be proud of me like my cousin’s children did them.”
