Devoted to Him

by Sofia Tate

  “‘Song to the Moon’ from Rusalka.”

  “Have you sung in Czech before?”

  “I have. It’s difficult, but it’s easier for me than German.”

  “I’m sure you’ll be great,” he reassures me.

  When we arrive at my door, I unlock it and turn back to Matteo. “Thanks for dinner. I had a nice time.”

  Suddenly, he leans in closer to me, much too close for my liking. I put my hand on his chest and push him away, enough to make him wobble, forcing him to steady his footing against the marble floor.

  “For the record, Matteo, you’re too late,” I inform him firmly without any hesitation, trying my best to hold back my disgust at him. “I have a boyfriend who I love and am devoted to, so we can only be friends. I hope that’ll be enough for you. Now I want you to leave.”

  Matteo pauses for a second before replying. “Okay,” he whispers.

  He turns around, but stops once more to look back at me. “I’m really sorry. I wouldn’t have hurt you, Allegra. I hope you know that,” he offers to me in apology.

  I give him a slight nod. “I do.”

  Taking two quick steps, I walk into my room and lock the door behind me, now safe and secure.

  I quickly strip off my clothes, running to the bathroom to turn on the shower. As the hot water cascades down my back, I start to cry softly, missing Davison, reprimanding myself for yelling at him, refusing to believe that Matteo would try to take advantage of me.

  Once I finish washing up, I crawl into bed and grab my cell phone. I check my texts and messages. Nothing from Davison.

  I can’t do this anymore. I was wrong, and he needs to know that.

  Hearing his voice would shatter me, so I just decide on a text:

  I’m sorry.

  I leave my phone on the rest of the night hoping I’ll hear from him, praying for any form of communication at all. But when I wake up the next morning, I have an empty inbox.

  It’s too early to call him, but I will after my lesson, preparing to hear some form of I told you so coming from him. It’s okay. I deserve it, and I can take it because I love him enough to admit it.

  Chapter Eleven

  Davison

  The pebbles crunch under my driving shoes as I follow the curve of the path in the Signora’s sumptuous garden. But I don’t need directions, because within minutes of stepping foot outside, I hear Allegra. My Venus is calling me to her. I’m desperate for the sight of her.

  She’s singing something beautiful in a language I can’t decipher, possibly Slavic. It’s definitely something I’ve never heard her perform before. It sounds so sad, which makes me walk even faster to comfort her. I know it’s probably just the tone of the aria itself, but after what we’ve gone through the past forty-eight hours, I’d hazard a guess that she’s trying to extricate the pain she has to be feeling. She has to know that I was only upset because I love her and I wasn’t with her to check this guy out and ensure that he wouldn’t hurt her. I need her to believe me, to see it on my face in person, and I’m coming closer and closer to her with every step.

  Finally, I reach a clearing where the path opens up to a view of the Lombardian hills, with my love standing with her back to me.

  From where I stand, I can tell she’s wearing a white cotton dress that billows softly in the wind around her legs, her sweet round ass filling it out. Her feet are bare, a pair of flip-flops lying casually on the side by a stone bench. That gorgeous silky brown hair of hers is pulled back in a ponytail. It’s not going to be held together like that for much longer.

  I watch her arms extend out, as if she’s begging for something. Then she brings them together, her hands clasped together over her heart, her head down as she finishes the last note.

  She takes a deep breath and turns to reach for something on the bench. She unscrews a water bottle to take a sip from it.

  Finally, she turns and sees me.

  The bottle falls to the ground, water spilling everywhere. Her right hand clamps over her mouth.

  I take two steps toward her. My heart starts to race. My arms ache for her.

  “Allegra…”

  She doesn’t say my name. She just runs to me, smiling widely through the tears streaming down her face.

  I catch her in my arms as she jumps into them, her legs instantly coiling around my waist. I’m overcome from the pure joy of holding her again, her coconut scented hair intoxicating me, her heart beating just as fast as mine against my chest. Still crying, she wraps her arms around my neck, fisting my shirt in her hands.

  “I’m here, baby, I’m here,” I murmur, cradling her head with one hand and holding her curvy backside with the other.

  I can hear her trying to catch her breath through her gulping sobs. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Davison,” she repeats over and over.

  She pulls her head back and sinks her tongue into my mouth. I can taste the salt from the tears on her lips. She’s as ravenous for me as I am for her. I open my eyes and walk over to the bench and settle us onto it, her body still wrapped around me.

  When we come up for air, she rests her forehead against mine.

  “I can’t believe you’re here,” she manages to say.

  “I am, baby,” I tell her soothingly as I stroke her cheek.

  “Davison…I just…I missed you so much,” she starts to cry again.

  “I know. It’s been fucking torture for me. But I’m here now, so stop crying, okay?”

  I hear a slight laugh from her. “Okay. But I just sang an aria about a water nymph wishing she could be human so she could be with her prince, so cut me some slack.”

  “Sounds kind of ironic, don’t you think?”

  She laughs out loud, and I just hold her even tighter. It’s one thing to hear her laugh when we’re on Skype with each other, but in person, it makes my damn heart soar.

  “Your timing is impeccable as always, Harvard,” she replies.

  And hearing her call me that in person after being apart…it’s fucking amazing.

  She repositions herself more comfortably on my lap, which allows me to see her dress from the front. It has a halter top, which keeps her shoulders bare and accentuates her luscious breasts. I’m hard within seconds.

  I reach out to tuck a strand of stray hair from her ponytail behind her ear. “Allegra, you have to know that I only got upset because I love you and I was worried about you.”

  “I do,” she nods, leaning her head into mine. “It was just such a shock seeing Matteo here, and you were right.”

  “About which part?”

  “He did come here knowing I would be.”

  My fists clench at her admission.

  Motherfucker. I goddamn knew it.

  “Look at me, baby,” I tell her, gently yet firmly.

  Her soft brown eyes stare into mine.

  “Did he try anything?”

  She shakes her head. “No.”

  I lift her chin so I can study her reaction more closely.

  “Tell me again,” I demand.

  Her eyes lock on mine. “No, he didn’t try anything.”

  I wonder if La Diva is offering acting lessons as well as singing lessons because her poker face seems to have disappeared.

  Fuck this. I’ll bring this up later because right now, I’m going to explode if I don’t sink myself into her ASAP.

  I put my hands on Allegra’s waist and place her on the ground. I stand up, taking her face in my hands, and plant a short but deep kiss on her lips.

  “That’s it. We’re getting out of here.”

  “What are you talking about?” she laughs.

  Her smile makes me so damn happy. “You’ve been studying and singing about TB-ridden women and despondent lovers nonstop twenty-four/seven. You need a fucking break from them.”

  “That’s my Davison,” she purrs, her soft fingertips running over my cheeks, “always looking out for me.”

  “I’m serious,” I insist.

  She kisses me.
“I know. I’m just teasing.”

  I moan in frustration.

  “So, what are we doing?”

  “I talked to the Signora, and she’s letting you out of here for seventy-two hours.”

  “And where are we going?” she asks excitedly.

  “It’s a surprise. Just pack light.”

  “Why?”

  “Because once we get to our destination, we’ll be naked for most of our stay.”

  * * *

  Allegra

  A few hours ago, I truly understood the meaning of several words: “grateful,” “speechless,” and “devoted” because those three words perfectly capture my state of mind when I saw Davison standing a few feet away from me on the Signora’s garden path. The sight of him in his khakis and a tight black T-shirt that accentuated every muscle on his corded arms left me in such a condition where I couldn’t form coherent sentences, and just so thankful that I could touch him and kiss him and tell him how sorry I was for acting like such a stubborn ass. And the fact that he flew all the way across the Atlantic to make sure I really was fine just proves to me how much he loves me and is always thinking of me.

  Now, my head is lolled back on the butter-soft passenger seat of Davison’s rental car—a sleek black Lamborghini, its engine roaring like a tiger when his lead foot hits the accelerator. I rolled my eyes when I stepped out of the villa and saw it sitting in La Diva’s driveway.

  Boys and their toys.

  Wearing those dark aviator sunglasses that make him look so fucking hot, he’s smoothly steering us along the curvy roads of the Lake Como region, or Lago di Como as it’s known in Italian.

  Soon, we’re going to arrive at the lakeside villa that he has reserved for us for three days. He wasn’t kidding when he said I wouldn’t need much clothing because he actually supervised me as I quickly packed an overnight bag for our getaway—Fuck yes! for the retro-style red bikini and my jean shorts, and No way in hell! for the cotton pajamas and cardigan sweater, even though I argued that I might need the latter at night if it’s a cool evening. He countered with, “I’m the only one who’ll be keeping you warm, baby.” I wasn’t going to dispute that.

  In between gear changes, Davison holds my hand, and when he has to shift, my hand remains on his right thigh, so both of us are always touching, knowing we’re together in the same place and able to see and feel each other without thousands of miles and a computer screen separating us.

  “We’re here, Venus.”

  I look up to see a pebbled driveway situated between two stone pillars, a black metal gate protecting the property from intruders.

  He swiftly jumps out of the car and pushes the gate open, hopping back in to drive us through, stopping to shut it, and then taking us down the hill. Tall, thin trees line the road as we follow it to the end, where my breath is taken away by the stunning view in front of me.

  Dusk is setting over Lake Como, and lights are starting to pop up from the houses that sit on the water, each of them illuminating the azure water. The villa itself has three levels, painted in a cream palette, its window shutters contrasting against it in a darker, terra-cotta color. A small boat dock is sitting at the edge of the lake, where a classic wood-paneled speedboat is moored. As if this sumptuous home needed further gilding, an infinity pool looks out over the lake.

  A pair of strong arms encircles my waist. “What do you think?” Davison whispers in my ear.

  “It’s beautiful, Davison. Thank you for bringing us here.”

  “My pleasure. Now we need to do something very important.”

  “What?”

  “Pool sex,” he declares, yanking me by the hand down the stone stairs.

  “Harvard, it’s freezing!” I counter.

  “It’s heated,” he informs me.

  In a split second, I let go of his hand and start pulling off my clothes, jumping into the water with a whoop of joy even before Davison manages to zip out of his pants.

  * * *

  As soon as Davison comes up for air from under the warm water, he yanks me to his strong, hard chest, slamming his mouth to mine. My ankles lock around Davison’s torso. We start kissing each other fast and long and deep, desperate for the taste of each other that we’ve missed for far too long.

  With our tongues tangled together, I sense him pulling me back toward the edge of the pool. He leans me against the side to support me as he searches for my pussy with one hand while holding me with the other. Once he finds it, he thrusts inside me as we both gasp aloud in sheer ecstasy. Finally, he is inside me. We are together.

  The sounds surrounding us heighten my sensory overload, intensifying the euphoria of having his cock in me once more. Our moans and groans unite with the breezes that whisper through the leaves on the trees, a distant sound of a motorboat chugging past the villa on the lake, and the quacking of ducks standing on the shore. All of these nocturnal elements bring me to life again, increasing the heady sensation of being one with Davison.

  Davison pants into my ear, “That’s it, baby. Oh, fuck, you feel so good. God, I’ve missed you.”

  My head falls back, overwhelmed, enveloped in utter rapture. “Oh God…Davison, I need you so fucking much.”

  “I’m right here, Venus,” he whispers roughly. “Not going anywhere. You’re mine. All mine.”

  He leans in and tilts his head down so he can taste my nipples. I watch in pure awe as he laves each tip again and again, reveling in his passion. Then he clamps down hard on one, biting it, then licking it to soften the pain.

  I gasp when he hits my clit with the tip of his glorious shaft, my arousal escalating with the heated water turning my blood into fire, coursing through every vein in my body. “Yes, Davison. Don’t stop. I love when you fuck me so hard,” I moan into his ear.

  The water laps over the edge as Davison plunges into me over and over, forming a cascading waterfall. I grip his neck, my eyes staring up into the dark sky illuminated by a million stars.

  “Fuck yes! Come for me, Allegra!” he shouts out in demand.

  My entire body shudders as my orgasm overcomes me and I yell Davison’s name in release.

  As my core clamps down onto him like a vise, milking his swollen flesh, he follows my climax with his own, groaning like a roaring primal beast in heat, the veins in his neck straining against his flesh.

  Our heads collapse onto each other’s shoulders, with our breaths panting in tandem.

  “Hi.” His breath exhales softly onto my face.

  “Hi.”

  He smiles. “I like my current position.”

  “Me too.”

  My fingers trace slow, soft circles on the nape of his neck, caressing his smooth flesh. We start to kiss again, slow and deep, moaning in pleasure, savoring each other.

  When we stop, we’re both grinning and sated. Something catches my attention above us. A line of statues is lit up by outdoor spotlights, standing along the wall above that separates the driveway from the second level where the pool is. Every statue is of a naked woman in a provocative pose.

  “Got a question for you, Harvard.”

  “Shoot.”

  “Is there a reason there’s a line of statues of naked women in various erotic positions up there?” I ask, gesturing with my nose toward them.

  “Yes.”

  “And the reason would be?”

  “The name of the villa is La Villa delle Donne.”

  “The Villa of Women,” I translate into English. “Don’t tell me the reason for that name is of a sexual nature.”

  “You’d be correct in that line of thinking,” he admits. “A famous Italian playboy lived here once who was known for the exceptional penis that God endowed him with and the amount of ladies that it attracted, and they’d all end up here for orgies that lasted for days on end.”

  I pull back to look into his eyes. “Are you serious? Davison, I was joking! What did you do? Go on the Internet and enter ‘luxury vacation homes with erotic histories for rent in the Italian
Lake District’ into a search engine like you did when we were in Venice?”

  A wicked smile crosses his beautiful face. “I have my sources.”

  I roll my eyes. “Fine. Don’t tell me. But wherever you did find this place, I’m grateful for it because this is heaven.”

  He leans in and kisses me deep and long. “Glad to hear it, baby,” he rasps when we come up for air, touching his nose to mine. “Now we need to go eat so I have enough stamina to continue fucking you.”

  I grin back at him and without hesitation, I quickly disentangle myself from his arms and jump out of the pool, with Davison close behind.

  Chapter Twelve

  Davison

  At this moment, I don’t care what the fuck else is going on back in New York, because the only thing that matters to me right now is getting as many shots as I can of Allegra sitting on the stern of the vintage wood-paneled motorboat that comes with the villa. She’s wearing the ’50s retro-style red bikini I love that she wore when we were in Positano. The bright sun is beaming off her black Jackie O sunglasses, with the light highlighting her newly tanned skin from just a few hours on the boat. She is smiling widely as she looks out across the water, resembling an Italian sex goddess, which makes my cock hard.

  My phone is on vibrate so she doesn’t hear my phone clicking every time I take a picture of her. I know she’d be embarrassed and make me stop if she heard me doing it. But I wouldn’t stop, because right now, the only thing that matters to me is recording every second of this moment. And anyway, I know she’d look damn hot shouting at me to put my phone away, so it’s a win-win for me either way.

  We took a tour around the lake, stopping at certain points when some of the villas that lined the shore took our breaths away, making us pause just to take in the magnificence of the private homes that have probably sat there for decades. Now we’re sitting in a quiet spot by our villa, basking in the beauty of the summer day on Lake Como.

  She turns to me, and I manage to quickly put my phone aside so she won’t see it.