by Sofia Tate
“Yes,” she replies suspiciously with a raised eyebrow.
“Good, because I’ve booked us a suite at a hotel on Capri. I want to be with you and make love to the point of exhaustion. I want to be with my wife. How does that sound to you, Mrs. Berkeley?”
Allegra stands up, tugs me to her, and kisses me long and deep. “Sounds perfect, Mr. Berkeley.”
She pulls away and starts to collect her things. I fold the blanket, holding it in my arms as I watch Allegra kiss the top of her mother’s grave.
“Ti amo, Mamma. Grazie.”
I touch the grave as well, as a sign of respect, then take Allegra’s hand, gripping it in mine as I lead her out of the cemetery to the waiting taxi, whose driver I paid handsomely to wait for me until I returned with my wife.
* * *
We bid good-bye to Allegra’s relatives, who insisted we stay the night, but thankfully, Allegra was able to convince them to let us go. In my basic knowledge of Italian since Allegra came into my life, I overheard the words for “together” and “alone.” I assumed those did the trick because within an hour, we were sitting on a hydrofoil speeding to the island of Capri.
A representative from the hotel was waiting for us at the dock, taking our overnight bags from us and driving us to the hilltop, where our suite was waiting for us with a basket of fruit, a chilled bottle of champagne, the entire space festooned in fresh flowers.
We took quick showers and are now lying in matching robes on the double chaise of our balcony with a gorgeous view of the sea below and the surrounding villas, champagne in hand.
I clear my throat before saying something. “Allegra, I want to sue Dr. Mason.”
Her head twists to me, a look of fear across her face. “What? No, Davison. I don’t want that.”
“Why? He deserves it for being so callous and thoughtless.”
She shakes her head vehemently. “No. I agree he was an asshole for talking about my case within earshot of my room, but he didn’t cause my injury. What happened to me is nobody’s fault. It just happened, and the sooner I accept that, the sooner I can move on. Please don’t prolong this. I just want this behind me. But there is something you can do for me.”
“Name it, baby.”
“You can support me when I go back to see Dr. Turner. I think she can help me deal with all of this.”
A wave of warmth washes over me.
Thank God.
I smile at her, leaning in to kiss her soundly on the lips. “Of course I’d be okay with that. I actually told your father that maybe I would bring it up with you when you’re ready.”
Her eyes widen in surprise. “Really? You said that?”
“Yes. Why are you so surprised?”
“It’s not that I’m surprised. It just tells me how well we get each other because we were both thinking the same thing.”
“Which just goes to show that I was meant to lose my glove that night at Le Bistro so I could meet the love of my life,” I point out.
Allegra stares at me silently for what feels like ages, then takes my face in her hands, kissing me wet and long, as her hands begin to roam over my hair, bringing me in deeper. My dick is hard as stone within seconds when she breaks away from my mouth.
Her brown eyes lock on mine, a fiery look of lust blazing back at me. “Fuck me, Davison. Right now.”
With a grunt, I roll off the chaise, lifting my wife into my arms, rushing as fast as I can back into the suite, dropping her onto the bed as I yank off my robe, falling on top of her. I dive for her mouth, devouring it as her hands grab my back, her nails digging into my skin. I trail my tongue down her throat, reaching her beautiful tits. I begin to feast on them, pushing them together so I can lick them simultaneously.
Allegra groans my name. “Oh, Davison! Fuck yes! Yes!” she exclaims. “Missed this, baby. Missed you so much… Don’t stop.”
“I’m just getting started, baby,” I reassure her, murmuring from between her tits. “I’ve missed you too. Your scent, your taste. Now I’m going to suck on your clit and finger-fuck you, then I’m going to fuck you hard with my cock.”
“Please, Davison,” she cries out. “Do it! Do it all!”
I lick my way down her belly reaching her pussy, which is already drenched, ready for me. I dive in with my tongue, kissing her folds as if it were her mouth. I groan from the taste of her on my mouth, reveling in the feel of her again. I absently reach for one of her tits, and she takes my hand, covering her nipple as I knead her breast.
I take her clit, rolling my tongue around it. Allegra writhes helplessly on the bed, and I pull my hand back to pin her down, using my other hand to start thrusting my fingers inside her. I glance up quickly to see her head twisting back and forth, desperate for the release to come, and I will give it to her, sucking her and fucking her as fast as I can. I want my Venus to come alive. I need to hear her come.
Her muscles lock and her essence pours out of her like sweet honey, which I lick up greedily like a cat swallowing fresh milk. I slowly ease my body up to reach her mouth, where she grabs my head and clamps her mouth over mine, claiming it with a ferocity that I’ve never felt from her before, and it hardens my cock to the point of pain.
She purrs as she kisses me, our tongues tangling together, her hands locked on my face so I can’t move, and I don’t want to. I am hers, here for her pleasure. Only for her.
I pant when she finally breaks away. “You love tasting yourself on my tongue, don’t you, baby?”
“Yes, Davison,” she replies breathlessly.
“Good, because now you’re going to have me inside you. I need to fuck you now.”
“Oh God, yes,” she moans as I position my cock into her soaked pussy. I ease inside seamlessly. We mutually gasp at the feel of each other again, welcoming the familiar sense of belonging, of reminding ourselves that, yes, this is us, this is our love, this is home.
“Open your eyes, Allegra,” I command my wife. “I want to see you looking at me when you yell my name again with me inside you when I’m fucking you.”
Her eyes lock with mine. Her jaw is clenched, her breath increasing with each thrust of my cock. Her hands grip my ass, her fingers pinching the flesh, spurring me on. I begin to increase my speed, pounding into her as she starts to shout, her head thrown back, “Yes! Davison! Yes!”
Her inner muscles tighten around my dick like a vise. She’s nearly there.
“Look at me, Allegra! Now!” I grunt.
Her eyes glance at me once before they roll back into her head as her orgasm overcomes her, my name exploding from her lips. I can feel her pussy locking on to my cock, milking it as my entire body shudders from the exquisite release.
I collapse onto Allegra’s sweat-soaked body, my head next to her ear as I pant into it, her coconut-scented hair intoxicating me, its familiar smell relaxing me like an elixir. I can feel her fingers traveling up and down my back, cooling my heated flesh.
Once my heartbeat regulates, I turn onto my side, taking Allegra with me and tucking her into my body. We both yawn simultaneously, spent and sated.
“I love you, Davison,” she whispers into my chest.
“I love you, Allegra,” I reply, the last words I speak before we fall into blissful sleep, holding each other tightly, never letting go.
Chapter Eighteen
Allegra
I tuck my legs under me on Dr. Turner’s velvet couch. Everything looks exactly the same—same Tiffany lamp, same Persian rug, same Dr. Turner in a gauzy blouse and peasant skirt, with her silver hair pulled back into a braid.
I’m in the familiar cocoon of Dr. Turner’s office, and I feel safe.
I’ve just told her everything that’s happened to me.
She nods, a contemplative look crossing her face. She folds her hands in her lap and leans toward me. “Allegra, you were in mourning.”
I was not expecting this. “But nobody died,” I point out to her.
She shakes her head. “You did, meaning the
former version of yourself. The Allegra you were who could sing opera and had her debut at the Met, who was bound to have a successful career. That Allegra is gone.”
A wave of realization comes over me. “I never thought of it that way. It never would have crossed my mind.”
I sit back and allow Dr. Turner to continue.
“When you overheard your doctor discussing your diagnosis and you sank into that spiral of rage, you were angry. Then you kept to yourself away from everyone, you didn’t eat, you suffered from fatigue. And now you’re past all of that, accepting the reality of your situation.”
“It’s not like I have a choice,” I point out to her. “I just wish I knew where to go from here.”
“You will figure it out, Allegra. I promise you. You don’t have to rush into anything. Just take things as they come. You’re lucky to have such a wonderful support in Davison, your father, your friends. They will be there for you every step of the way. You just need to let them in.”
I nod in understanding. “Thank you. I needed to hear that.”
Dr. Turner checks her watch. “Our time is about up. Is there anything else you’d like to discuss?”
I shake my head. “No. I feel much better now. I’m just glad I came to see you. It was something I was thinking about when I was in Italy, and when I brought it up and Davison said he had thought the same thing, I knew it was time.”
The doctor smiles back at me. “You see! There is your support system in action. You were both in total sync, which only shows how well you complement each other.”
My body warms at the thought of my husband. “Yes, we certainly do.”
I rise from the couch, and Dr. Turner walks me to her door, embracing me firmly before I leave. “Same time next week?” she asks.
I smile back at her. “Definitely. Thank you, Dr. Turner.”
Stepping out onto the sidewalk, I’m midway through wrapping my scarf tighter around my neck when something catches my eye.
Davison is leaning against the Maybach, holding a huge arrangement of apricot roses, a huge grin across his face, his gorgeous eyes lighting up at the sight of me.
My pulse starts to race at the sight of him. “I thought you were at work.”
He smirks at me. “I set my own hours. Perks of being the boss.”
I step to him, taking the flowers from his hands. He wraps his arm around my waist, his warm lips covering mine as he kisses me for what seems like ages.
“Thank you, Harvard,” I tell him breathlessly when we finally stop.
“My pleasure, Venus,” he replies against my lips. “Now let’s go home.”
He helps me into the car, with Charles pulling away from the curb and heading down Seventh Avenue.
Davison curls me into his body. “How did it go with Dr. Turner?”
I recall everything to him when a strange look crosses his face. “Davison, what’s wrong?”
He pauses before answering. “I did something while you were in surgery, something that’s very unlike me.”
“What do you mean?”
He exhales, then answers my question. “I had a one-on-one with God.”
I lean back from him in surprise. “Go on.”
“I told God to let you live and save your voice, and in return, I would let myself be shot again.”
I shriek in horror. “What? Davison, what the hell were you thinking?”
“It didn’t happen, obviously.”
“No, but that’s not the point,” I counter. “I thought I’d lost you for good when you were shot. Why would you even think something like that? Why would you wish for something like that?”
He takes my hands in his, kissing them softly. “Because I love you, Allegra. You’re my wife. I didn’t want to lose you. I would’ve done anything to save you. I was so helpless. All the money I have was useless because it couldn’t do shit for you, so I offered myself instead.”
“Yeah, well, the next time you get the brilliant idea to have a quick chat with God, don’t… I mean… Oh, hell, I don’t know what I mean. Look, things just turned out the way they’re supposed to, and there’s nothing I can do about it. This is my life now, and I just have to deal with it.”
He leans in and kisses my forehead. “We’ll figure it out together, baby. I’m sorry I shouted.”
I soften at his touch. “Me too. There actually is something we could do together.”
“And that is?”
“I’ve been thinking about this ever since we got back. I’d like to have a party in our home, both for the holidays and as a way of thanking everyone for being there for me. And I don’t want it catered, but maybe a potluck so everyone can bring their favorite food?”
Davison beams at me. “I love that idea. Let’s start planning when we get home—guest list, date, the whole nine.”
I pick up my roses from my side and place them on my lap, snuggling in closer to this amazing man, my husband, closing my eyes, his masculine scent that is all Davison Cabot Berkeley comforting me as we head for home.
Chapter Nineteen
Davison
I watch my beautiful wife standing in front of the full-length mirror in our walk-in closet in four-inch gold stilettos, smoothing out her emerald-green silk dress, checking her face and hair one last time before our guests arrive.
I give her a wolf whistle. “I married one sexy woman.”
“Who chose a dress that matches her smoking-hot husband’s eyes,” she replies, still making sure she looks presentable, which is completely unnecessary.
I step forward to her, wrapping my arms around her waist, placing my head on her shoulder.
“In those heels, you’re almost as tall as me,” I whisper into her ear.
She cradles her right arm around my neck, leaning her head toward mine. “Almost.”
Pivoting to face me, she adjusts my red tie and the lapels of my charcoal-gray suit. “Mmmm. Gorgeous.” A glint appears in her cocoa-brown eyes as they roam over my body. “Whose idea was this party again?”
“Umm… yours, genius,” I gently remind her, my cock hardening at the lustful look she’s giving me.
She bobs her head up and down in realization. “Oh right.”
I lean in closer, my lips grazing hers. “But save that look you just had in your eyes for later, baby.”
Her tongue pops out to lick my lower lip. “I plan to, Harvard.”
I groan in frustration. “Ugh. Okay, let’s go greet our guests before I rip that stunning outfit off of you.”
I pull Allegra by the hand and lead her out of the bedroom to our kitchen, where my mom is making her trademark salad with pears, walnuts, and champagne dressing.
“Hello, my darlings.” She greets us with kisses and hugs. “Salad is just about ready.”
The elevator pings, and Allegra’s father pops out carrying two shopping bags. “Buon Natale!”
Allegra rushes to greet him. “Papa, it’s technically not Christmas yet.”
“Well, this is a holiday party. So, Buon Natale!”
I can’t help but smile at his enthusiasm, which reminds me of something. “Mr. Orsini, why don’t you let the women handle the food while we have a talk in my office?”
“Yes, menfolk talk man things. Women stay in kitchen because women must provide sustenance for menfolk after discussing big, important things that women do not understand,” Allegra declares in her best caveman impression.
Mr. Orsini walks ahead of me as I give a quick smack to my wife’s lovely backside. “Smart-ass,” I whisper into Allegra’s ear as I pass by her.
Once we’re behind the closed door of my office, I turn to my father-in-law, looking him straight in the eye.
“Mr. Orsini, Allegra has told me about your situation with your building, and I would like to help in any way I can.”
He mutters something Italian under his breath before replying, “I know. My daughter should not have shared anything with you. This is my business.”
I take a deep
breath. “Please just hear me out, sir. I know how proud you are of what you’ve achieved with the shop, that it’s a part of you. That’s how I felt about my family’s company. It was in my blood, started by my great-grandfather when he emigrated from England to make a better life for himself. And when I had to dissolve the business because of what my father had done, it nearly killed me. But it didn’t because I had Allegra. She helped me through it. She made me realize that there’s more to life than money.”
“So you’re starting over now.”
“And it’s been difficult sometimes, but it’s getting better. I love business because I have a mind for it, and I’m good at it, which is why I’m not giving up.”
He pauses before answering, allowing a quick smile. “Sounds like something I would’ve said all those years ago, when I took over the butcher shop from Sergio. I love working with my hands, talking to my customers. They’re part of my family. Mia famiglia.”
“Which is why I want to help you financially. We can discuss the terms and draw up a contract if you like. Everything will be done on your terms. I could even become a silent partner in the shop.”
Mr. Orsini’s eyebrows dip in curiosity. “Hmm. That would be something I could consider.”
“Then we’ll talk about it more after the holidays?” I ask expectantly.
Silence, then my father-in-law nods his head. “Yes, I would like that very much.”
He extends his hand to me, and I take it, shaking it firmly. “Excellent. I’m so pleased I can do this for you.”
Mr. Orsini pulls his hand back, then pats my shoulder. “Grazie, Davison. I don’t know what else to say. Just thank you.”
I grin warmly back at him. “It’s my pleasure, sir. Making you and Allegra happy makes me happy.”
I hear more voices as we approach the kitchen. Tomas and Luciana are standing in the kitchen with Allegra, marveling over something in a plastic container.
“What’s everyone freaking out over?” I interrupt them.
Everyone turns to me. “We’re oohing and aahing over the plum dumplings that Tomas made,” Lucy says by way of a hello.