Salvatore

by Cecy Robson

  “No,” I respond, but my answer comes too quick. Doubt spreads along his features.

  I slide my wrist free as he loosens his grip. “The way we made love wasn’t what I expected,” I begin.

  My voice trails as his fingertips skim around my breast to circle my nipple. “I was hoping after all the times I made you come with my fingers that it wouldn’t be so bad.”

  The centers of my breast stiffen as I try to find my words. “It was uncomfortable, not painful, but so beyond perfect it felt more like a dream.”

  His features continue to reflect his doubt. But it’s the truth, and I need him to believe me. “I didn’t want it to end,” I admit. “You took your time, using care, and the way you held me, it’s like you never wanted to let me go.”

  “I don’t want to let you go,” he says, his rumbling voice appearing to fade in the darkness.

  “Then don’t,” I say, kissing him once more.

  His bare skin encompasses mine. I don’t dare tell him how embarrassed I was to simply lay there holding him against me. Aside from encouraging him with the sway of my hips, I wasn’t sure what to do. My fear was he wouldn’t be able to finish, that my lack of involvement would prevent his release. But when he did, and as he filled me, we locked eyes in a way that proved his love.

  He may not be ready to tell me and I’m not sure he ever will. But that didn’t make the moment any less sacred.

  Sharing intimacy is hard for Salvatore and it’s taken a lot for him to let me in. Sex . . . it wasn’t solely about me giving him my virginity. It was about him accepting he was deserving of something he felt was so pure.

  I shudder as his erection grows against my belly. When I reach for him, he clasps my wrist, pulling my hand and the one under me. He pins them over my head as his tongue glides along my throat. I like what he’s doing, his nibbles causing me to writhe and slide my nipples against his chest.

  Yet I’m so desperate to please him, I can’t simply lie there. “Are you sore?” I ask, my accelerating pulse and tightening center make me daring. I push up on my legs, causing the thick head of his penis to press harder between us.

  He averts his head, growling. He’s turned on, but once more he’s holding back. “Do you want me to kiss it?” I ask, my comment more of a plea.

  “Aedry . . .” he says.

  “Please let me,” I say.

  He takes several deep breaths before releasing me and rolling onto his back. His hands sweep along my spine as I draw an invisible line of kisses from his throat to his hard stomach. I pause as I reach his hardness and flick the tip. I may not know what to do when it comes to sex, but by now I know what he likes when I taste him.

  He bites back another swear, rushing to push up on his elbows and cup the base of my neck. But when he grips himself and leads the head toward my open mouth, he takes his time, teasing my lips before feeding me his fullness.

  His head lolls back, the muscles along his throat and chest contracting with his increasing breathing. He shifts beneath me, threading his fingers through my hair and lifting the strands away from my face so he can watch. I smile bashfully as I glance at him, stirring a groan as he pops free of my mouth. I smile again, this time more playfully, deepening my tastes and savoring his expanding flesh.

  I love having this control over his pleasure and the sounds he makes as I take him further. It’s almost a challenge, to see how far I can go and how tight the cords along his throat will constrict beneath my touch.

  When he bucks beneath me, I almost think he’ll let me finish him this way. But these last few hours have changed everything between us.

  He gathers me in his arms, lowering me onto my back. “Are you ready for me, again?” he asks against my ear.

  I nod and spread my legs. Despite his careful strides to penetrate, I can’t deny I’m tender. That doesn’t make me want him any less.

  I’ve never felt so close to anyone. It wasn’t just what we did, it’s how he made it all about me, how those rough hands passed over my body as if I were a delicate rose he was afraid to crush.

  He rubs his erection against me, searching for his way in as he murmurs in my ear. “You’re so beautiful,” he rasps, tugging on my lobe and speaking quietly in Italian.

  I’m not sure what he says. That doesn’t stop each syllable from etching into my soul and melting me against him.

  I tilt my chin, wanting to see him. Agonized euphoria encompasses his features as he slides inside me. I crane my neck, exposing my throat for him to kiss. There’s pressure, lots of it. I can feel his entirety as he withdraws and advances. But this time, it doesn’t hurt. This time, it feels good . . .

  A whimper breaks through my throat, followed by a lustful groan. Salvatore’s head falls beside mine. “Am I being too rough?” he murmurs.

  “No,” I gasp.

  He holds his position, his warm breath teasing my shoulder. He doesn’t believe me, so I tilt my hips, encouraging him to move. I expect pain. My thighs quiver when it doesn’t come. The tightness and pressure remain, but the sensation stirs unexpected jolts to shoot into my center, causing us both to swear.

  My chest rises and falls, making it hard to speak, each inkling of movement electrifying the nerves along my throbbing flesh. “What was that?” I stammer.

  Salvatore pushes up on his elbows, fervor encompassing his strong features. “Me teasing your G spot.”

  “Oh.” I bite my bottom lip and shift my weight, his thick head skimming the spot again and causing my eyelids to flutter.

  “Fuck,” he groans, almost falling on top of me.

  He shakes with desire. But when he speaks, I’m the one who can’t seem to move. “I’m going to go harder,” he says, swallowing with great difficulty. “If it’s too much, tell me to stop, and I will.”

  I barely manage a nod as he withdraws. When he thrusts, I practically claw my way through the mattress.

  “Too much?” he asks, stopping in place and balling the comforter in his fists.

  “No,” I whimper.

  “You sure?”

  “I’m sure,” I say, slipping my tongue into his ear.

  Salvatore abandons his restraint, proving how much he wants me, and maybe how much he’s longed for me, too . . .

  Chapter Eighteen

  Aedry

  Making love with Salvatore is as amazing as it sounds. My problem is that as the weeks pass, it’s clear he’s doing most of the work. My movements are awkward at best, despite his insistence that I’m doing everything right. I find it hard to believe, especially knowing that the women he’s slept with were far more experienced than me.

  Research nerd that I am, I start surfing the net for erotica sites. All in the name of science, of course.

  I turn my head to the side as I stare at my computer screen, and a little more when I can’t figure out whose arm is where and what body parts I’m looking at. I want to be a better lover. When we’re alone, I often ask Sal what he likes and if what I’m doing is right. He’s patient and sweet, guiding me and teaching me what to do with his body. As much as I try, I often feel like a total klutz.

  I want to be more for him and I am determined to match his past lovers in skill and endurance. So, here I am, dressed in flannel pajamas and hopping from one website to another as the deep cleansing mask on my face dries, trying to figure out what the hell I’m looking at so I can do it.

  Maybe.

  Good Lord, she’s flexible.

  A knock on my door interrupts my very important study time. I think it’s the Thai food I ordered and skip to the door, giggling when my stomach gurgles in anticipation.

  I open the door, leaving the securing chain in place. You can’t see much. But Sal sees enough.

  His eyebrows slowly crawl up his forehead. “Aedry?” he asks.

  My fingers pass along the hardened goo covering my face. Weeks. I’ve spent weeks dressing in sexy clothes and lingerie, only for him to find me like this.

  He said he wouldn’t be able to
see me tonight. He said―

  “You on your way to clown school, baby?”

  Oh, God. I flick the chain off and let him in, narrowing my eyes at the sight of his smirk. “This is a new look for you, hot,” he says, laughing.

  I lunge at him when he lifts his phone and sets it on my face. “Don’t you dare,” I say, trying to snatch it out of his hands.

  He keeps it up and away from me. “I need a new shot for my wallpaper,” he says. “This is perfect.”

  He’s playing dirty. Well, so can I. I reach around him and tickle his side, that one spot on his body where he can’t handle being touched. I catch his phone when he drops it, backing away from him as he charges.

  “Give me back my phone,” he says, his features growing playful.

  “You can have it after I wash my face,” I say, running into the bathroom and flicking the lock.

  I turn on the water and scrub my face at Mach 1 speed. I manage to take the mask off, but now my skin is blotchy from the cold water. I remove the towel from my head. My thick hair is still wet and the strands stick to my face.

  “Adrianna,” Sal says, his voice rough. “You coming out?”

  My hands fall to my sides. “Yes,” I mumble, humiliated that this is the condition he found me in.

  I try fluffing out my hair, but all that does is partially push it away from my face. I give up, expecting to find him either in the kitchen or the living room.

  Wrong again.

  My stomach bottoms out when I find him sitting on my bed . . . next to my open laptop. I curse the day I adjusted my screen saver to kick in after ten minutes. I edge closer, dropping my hands against my sides when I realize I’m wringing them.

  Sal scrolls his finger down to toggle, his eyes skimming over the images. It’s not until I’m almost to him that he glances up. “You’re watching porn,” he says slowly.

  I freeze in place, hating the way my voice cracks. “It’s not porn. It’s, uh, erotica.”

  He raises a thick brow. “It’s the same thing,” he says. “Erotica is just a term used by women, so they don’t feel guilty about watching porn.”

  My entire body heats. “I was doing it for you―”

  “While wearing your clown make-up?” he asks, chuckling. “I didn’t realize you were into the kinky shit.”

  “It was a deep cleansing mask,” I insist.

  “Sure, it was,” he says. “All you were missing was the squeaky red nose.” He hooks his finger into the waist of my pajamas and pulls me to him. “So where do you keep it? In here?” he asks, sliding his hands into my pants to caress my bare cheeks.

  I jump away from him. “I’m trying to be a better lover,” I say, pointing to the laptop.

  He shakes his head, taking another look at the screen. “I don’t know, Kansas, this chick is pretty damned flexible.”

  “You’re impossible!” I say.

  “Is it the suit?” he asks, parting the jacket open to expose his light blue silk shirt. “Not enough polka dots for you?”

  He cracks up when my face reddens. “You think you’re so hilarious, don’t you?”

  “Maybe not as funny as you, but I can’t juggle or wear pointy hats.”

  “Salvatore!” A knock to the door gives me an excuse to turn away. I only manage a step before he snatches me in an embrace.

  He pulls me against him, trailing kisses along my neck. “You expecting more of your friends to shove in your little car?”

  I try to bat his hands away, but I’ll admit, now I’m laughing. “It’s my food, I ordered Thai.”

  “Here. I got it,” he says, releasing me to reach for his wallet.

  I whirl around on my way to the door just to point at him. “You’re not paying for me, when you weren’t even supposed to be here.”

  “Aedry? You in there?”

  My steps slow as I recognize Donnie’s voice. I glance at Salvatore, who frowns.

  “Aedry?” she calls again.

  “Yes, I’m coming,” I tell her.

  She greets me, holding the bag of food in her hand. “He said it was for you,” she says in the way of a greeting. “I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Um. No. Of course not.”

  I lift the bag from her hands and allow her through. But while Salvatore is surprised to see her here, she doesn’t react the same way. “Hi,” she tells him.

  “Did you follow me here?” he asks.

  “I’ve been here before,” she slips out of her coat and lowers herself to the couch. “Hasn’t Aedry told you we’ve been shopping?”

  She fails to mention that while she’s dropped me off and picked me up outside, that she’s never actually been inside my residence. But the way she takes in my small apartment, lets him know enough.

  He meets her with a hard stare that softens as he takes her in. I’m not sure what’s happening, or why she’s here. She’s been very needy. I’ve invited her out with us a few times, worried about how she’s doing. But I didn’t invite her tonight.

  Instead of standing there watching them, I move into the kitchen and place the take-out on the counter. “Would you like some dinner?” I offer.

  “What are you doing here, Donnie?” Salvatore asks, not giving her time to respond.

  “Your brothers said you weren’t home,” she responds. “I thought I’d find you here.” She glances my way, forcing a smile despite how her stare seems to take in my flannel pajamas. She’s in Chanel. I recognize the dress from our shopping excursion. Her long blonde hair is brushed to perfection and her make-up is flawless.

  I don’t think there’s ever been a time I’ve ever felt unwelcome in my home, but that’s how I feel then. She’s not here for me, she’s here for Salvatore.

  “I guess I was right,” she continues, fixing her smile on Salvatore.

  I walk out of the kitchen, refusing to hide while they continue like I’m not there. “You didn’t answer my question,” he reminds her.

  Instead of joining her on the couch, he edges to my side, although I don’t feel like he’s entirely with me. “That doesn’t tell me why you’re here,” he reminds her.

  Her smile dwindles. “You were supposed to be at my place yesterday, today, and the other night. And you weren’t.”

  “You need to take that up with Vin,” he says.

  I think he sounds angry, but there’s more in his features than frustration. He’s concerned about her.

  “You were supposed to be there with me, Sal,” she says, her face splintering. And as quickly as she arrives, she picks up her coat and leaves.

  “Donnie,” he calls to her. She doesn’t stop, causing Sal to hurry after her.

  I stand there for a few minutes, expecting him to return. When he doesn’t, I head back into the kitchen and lay out the containers of food. But as I reach for plate, I find I’m no longer hungry.

  I bristle when I hear the key slip through the deadbolt and the door open. I don’t bother to look up, knowing it’s him and wishing it wasn’t.

  “Hey,” he says.

  He wraps his arms around my waist, the care he uses causing my head to lower. I don’t want to be hurt, but that’s exactly what I feel.

  “You’re not going to eat?” he asks.

  I shake my head. It’s all I’m capable of then.

  “What’s wrong?” he asks, pressing a kiss to my temple.

  I turn to face him. “I wasn’t sure if you were coming back,” I tell him honestly.

  “There’s nothing between me and Donnie. She’s upset and she needed someone to talk to. It’s the only reason she came to find me here.” His thick brows draw tight when I don’t answer. “You know that, don’t you?”

  The disappointment I feel causes me to shift my gaze. Donnie came, because she needed Salvatore specifically, not me and certainly not us. All the things she managed to say in the short amount of time she was here will stay with me. She reminded him about the days he was supposed to be there for her and wasn’t, demonstrating how much she needs and
wants him.

  But I need and want him, too.

  I don’t mean for my insecurities to spill like a dam, but they do anyway. “She’s gorgeous,” I remind him.

  “I don’t care about her, not like that,” he says.

  “I wish I could believe you, but sometimes it’s really hard.”

  “You have nothing to worry about,” he insists.

  “I think you’re wrong.” The lump in my throat tightens. “Remember the other week, when Donnie accompanied us to dinner? Everyone assumed she was with you.”

  He rights himself, releasing me from his grip, but I’m not done. “The hostess asked how long you’d been together and the waiter held out a chair so you could sit beside her, complimenting you for having such a ‘fine lady’ at your side.” My voice quivers with my final words. “That was hard to take, so don’t judge me for what I’m feeling, especially when she comes here to my home looking for you.”

  I’m not exaggerating. That’s what happened the last time Donnie was with us. Despite my close proximity to Salvatore, everyone stopped to look at him and Donnie as they passed, assuming they were the perfect pair. I probably would have assumed the same thing and, because of it, did my best to dismiss the experience with a smile. It beat finding the nearest hole to crawl into.

  It wasn’t anyone’s fault, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t hurt or offended.

  I lower my chin when he takes my hand and leads me out of the kitchen and across the living room. He sits on my bed, holding my hips and positioning me in front of him when it’s clear I won’t join him.

  “I’m sorry,” he says.

  He told me the same thing that night, after he made a point to tell the hostess and waiter that he was with me. He also spent the rest of the night with his arm around me, showing anyone who noticed that I was the woman he was with.

  It was sweet. But the blows to my ego left an impact that was hard to shake, more now following Donnie’s appearance.

  Even as his fingers stroke my hips, the humiliation I felt that night resurges.

  “Remember that idiot you were talking to. Sam?”

  My brows raise, both because he catches me off guard and I don’t know where he’s headed. “You mean Max, the part-time counselor?”