by Anthology
“I can’t disagree with her,” Lex grumbled.
“According to Vive, the press will give you a second chance. That is, of course, honey, if you ask for one. Ready for my idea?” Taddy’s hands folded under her chin, her high cheekbones appearing more pronounced. Perhaps she was sucking them in. “I propose you take a leave of absence from Jemma Couture and Girasoli Garment Company. Come back when you’re revived.”
“And what the hell will I do to revive myself?”
“Play tennis,” Blake suggested.
“Sports bore me.”
“Have sex.” Taddy placed her hands on my shoulders trying to reassure me. Giving me a tight squeeze, she continued, “Lots of hawt sex. Go on holiday with Luigi and that adorable Rocco. Get Massimo to give them the time off work. We’ll publicize your trip.”
“Genius. A sexual safari. I love this idea,” Lex complimented as she wrote something down.
“Each destination will be an erotic adventure which the three of you will experience together.” Taddy’s hold on my shoulders tightened. From the flushed hue on her face, I could tell she was thinking about Luigi, Rocco, and I getting it on across the globe.
Oh, brother.
“Honey, we’ll do a photo shoot of your men and you: having sugar kink play in the sex dungeons of Berlin, naked in the gardens of Moscow. Yes! This is your redemption with the press. Everyone knows you’re in a poly thingy. Sweet Jesus dick-a-licious, it’s in Vogue. Literally. Let’s play this up and get you back on the sex bike.”
Indeed, my ménage relationship was more than common knowledge. The ad slogan for Jemma Couture featured me in a grape-hued, silk organza gown with Rocco and Luigi on each arm dressed handsomely in tuxedos and stated, “You can have it all.”
Other tag lines we’d used over the years were, “Have your cake and eat it, too,” and my personal favorite, “Why stop at just one.” That could easily apply to the amount of men one keeps in their bed or the number of gowns one has in their closet.
What can I say, other than I’m a woman of excess? I adore stimulation. Blame it on my ADD.
“Peddle that sex bike, Miss Thing. Peddle fast. Peddle hard. Peddle as if there’s no tomorrow. Let’s go!” Blake cheered.
“Would Massimo agree to this?” I asked, glancing over at Lex. Her husband was a ruthless businessman. He wasn’t cheap but he always expected a return on his investment, and I hated to disappoint him. We’d grown up together. He trusted me to bring the best for the collection and I’d failed. Realizing what a disappointment this had turned into for everyone, I noticed a knot building in my throat.
“Let me talk to Masi. He’ll do anything to help you design a collection which sells. If that means giving Rocco and Luigi time off to go sex you up, then so be it.”
“A vacanza. I haven’t had one in ages.”
Sitting back, I dried my eyes with the cashmere sleeve from my sweater, the fabric scratching against my skin. Then it hit me.
Oh, no. I can’t.
I had a flashback to the last time Rocco, Luigi, and I were alone together for an extended weekend. Luigi had got down on one knee with Rocco at his side and asked for our hands in marriage.
I’m not the marrying kind. I don’t believe in happily ever after.
My parents fought as cats and dogs ‘til the day my madre dropped dead from the stress of it all. No, thank you.
And what if I got sick again? I couldn’t put the boys through that. It wasn’t right. I wanted no part in matrimony.
After I’d said no, Luigi had licked his wounds and dropped the topic. Regardless, it had sparked a sense of urgency in Rocco to start a family, as if babies were falling from the skies. He wouldn’t let up.
Over the weeks he’d said, a million times, “We should at least talk about starting a family. You know adoption.”
The whole idea of us on a holiday and them wanting to take our relationships to the next level—which I knew they’d do, because that was what they always did when we spent too much time together—sorta scared the bejesus out of me. Never mind the fact the boys had replaced my latest copies of Elle and Town & Country magazine at home with Bambino magazine and Brides.
Barf!
I honestly just wanted to have fun. Nothing serious. Nothing heavy. Life is too short for drama. The Big C taught me that.
“What if I say no?”
Let’s get real here. A few months before, I’d learned I couldn’t go through with that much alone time with them or I’d go out of my mind. Luigi was so intense, and Rocco could be rather emotional. Between the two of them, I didn’t stand a chance when we hung out for an extended period of time.
“Why on Earth would you?”
“I don’t wanna go on some sexscapade with my boys. They’ll talk about marriage and babies.”
“So what?” Lex sneered through her tight lips. The woman had already popped out one baby and had one more on the way.
“Let me work in the office. Fix my designs. Prepare for next season.”
“Jemma, why are you afraid to be alone with them?”
“Things between Rocco, Luigi, and I are bueno right now. I want them to stay that way. For now. Forever.”
“Is that even possible?” Blake asked.
Poor guy had already gone through one divorce, but he’d found a new love along the way and was engaged to try again. In a way, I admired that about him, because he had hope for his future. I wasn’t hopeless, but I just didn’t queef glitter and rainbows like he and Lex did when it came to matrimony.
They glared at me for a minute before Blake muttered, “Grow up.” Or at least it sounded as though he’d said that. Maybe it was my paranoia talking.
True, I did need to be more mature when it came to my relationships. After the cancer, I’d just wanted to feel good again. I couldn’t promise anyone a future. I could only give what I had each day. Not the next. Why couldn’t more people just live in the present? Thinking ahead always overwhelmed me.
On that note, I shook my head.
They gaped at my refusal.
Speechless. The silence in the room hung above us as a gray cloud.
“Then, Jemma, you may either resign or be fired.” Lex pushed her chair back and crossed her legs. “Personally, I suggest running with Taddy’s brilliant publicity idea.”
Hell to the no.
“Okay then. In the same vein as Jil Sander, I also quit from my own company. Arrivederci, my darlings.” In a snit, I found my footing and stomped out of the room.
Fuck these Manhattanites. I’m done with Jemma Couture.
Chapter Three
Luigi, Amore, You’re Making Me Fuckin’ High
Rocco
A few days later
The Mansion, Downtown Milan
Savage instincts were on high alert as Luigi stepped out from his shower. The steamy air from the bathroom came into our sleeping area, wrapping me in warmth. Considering the fall weather was starting to make things chilly, this was wonderful.
Eyes narrowing into slits, he peered at me seductively as he playfully rubbed his pectoral muscles. Hints of brown fuzz decorated them. He brought his hands down slowly over his six-pack. This man is amazing.
“Rocco, come here.” His hazel eyes widened.
That stare only meant one thing.
Let’s fuck!
But with Luigi, it was never just a fuck.
Oh, no.
From the stories Lex had shared with us about her hubby, Prince Massimo, he and Luigi had many things in common: Italian alphas, purveyor of sugar kink, and they liked to fuck—balls-deep. Sì, Luigi got off on shoving his cock and balls into every opening of my body. Jemma’s, too.
Hard, wet, loud, and utterly animalistic, Luigi was the best male lover I’d ever been with. Keeping in mind I’d started sleeping with boys at the age of sixteen. Clearly, I’d lost count after a few hundred.
Bar none, Luigi was the best of the best. When he made man-on-man love, his body craved it rough, an
d so did mine. He was sweet and tender with Jemma. With me, not so much.
I fucking loved it.
Good Lord. We don’t have time for this…
“Put a robe on, amore. You’re distracting me.” I demanded, my voice cracking. I couldn’t take my eyes off him. His monstrous dick flapped in my face, obliterating my ability to focus. I was getting high just from sniffing his testosterone, which filled the room.
“Let me top you.”
“No. Amore, we have two hours ‘til the plane leaves.”
“A quickie?”
I shook my head and added, “If we screw this up, I’m going to blame it all on your sexiness. Let’s go over this list one more time.” I reached for the piece of paper which had our agenda and details.
Legs thick as great oak trees, he stood next to the bed, naked. Cock growing harder by the second. Instead of reaching for his robe, as I’d asked him, he tore the paper from my hands, allowing it to fall to the floor, and stroked himself.
Oh. My.
I tried to take in all of him. Magnificent. I found my attention honing in on the usual: his dick. Head, bulbous. Shaft, thick and swelling thicker. The soapy smell of cleanliness contrasted nicely against his bad-boy ways.
Licking my lips, I realized it’d been a while since he’d last orgasmed in my mouth.
“Bello, suck!” He pressed his torso against me. “Per favore.”
His words landed heavy on me. In the end, I never denied him or Jemma. My nonno, who’d always known I liked boys, said to me once, “Rocco, never deny your partner in bed. Making love is like giving medicine. If they go without, they’ll get sick in the head.”
I always listen to my nonno. He’s a wise man.
Hmmm. I raked my fingers through his pubic hair, trimmed neat and well groomed. My left hand slowly cupped his low-hanging nuts which were warm and smooth. My right hand glided tightly over his veiny shaft. Gifted. Luigi was hung. Teasing him, I stuck my tongue out a bit. Tracing the base, I worked my way up. Licking. Sucking.
The mushroom head shimmered back at me, a pearl decorating the tip. My tongue grazed up against the opening slit. He shuddered when I sucked the pre-cum out.
“Sì, sì.” Grunting, his strong hands reached for my shoulders to balance himself. Then he pressed his cock down my throat. Slowly at first, ‘til it was almost all the way in. His left hand moved over to the back of my head as his right massaged my shoulders, making sure I could take all of him. The white button-down shirt I’d put on earlier wrinkled.
Inhaling through my nose, I kept my rhythm slow at first, bobbing my head back and forth. Balls wound tightly in my hand, his girth increased, filling my mouth. Mmm. I loved the way my man tasted.
Whimpering around his penis desperately, I jerked my neck from side to side, giving him friction, studying his handsome face in utter bliss.
“You are perfezione.” He got into it, moaning things in Italian. “Sì, like that. That’s it, Bello. Suck.”
I got off on getting him off. However, I always had to keep him on his toes. No doubt, Jemma and he both had my heart. But teasing them and taunting them—making them think I wasn’t into it when I was, or that I’d had better offers when I didn’t—was what had kept them both coming back for more. I could play the game better than anyone.
So I pulled back, freeing myself from him.
“We’re not done here.” His mouth hitched at the corner.
I offered no reply. Rather I stared up at him, giving a hungry glare. Jemma had told me once that I could talk with my eyes. Black and large, identical to my nonno’s, I didn’t see what they’d meant. However, Jemma and Luigi went bananas for eyes.
Stroking his nuts in my hand, I whispered, “After I swallow your load, we’re going over that list.”
“Maybe…”
My hold on his balls tightened. “Jemma will be here soon. We gotta get a move on it, amore. The jet leaves tonight.”
“Fine.” He dipped his face in my direction, pointed the tip of his beautiful cock at my mouth, and muttered, “Open wide.”
Dropping from the bed to the floor, I tucked my knees under me, leaned into his crotch, and held onto his ass cheeks.
High and firm, Luigi’s butt was like that of a soccer player. Stacked. I could set a book on it. I had yet to fuck his ass, but I wanted to. Maybe on this trip he’ll discover his versatility.
I took him. All of him.
“Such a pretty mouth for a man, bello.” He fucked my face.
Hard. Deep. Fast.
Mmm. Keeping my jaw loose, he inched further down my throat.
“You’re doing bueno. Almost there.” He wiped my tears as they fell down the side of my cheeks.
Frantically, my tongue swirled around the tip of his dick, my love for him displayed with each stroke, every lick. I glided my hand back where my lips had just been and repeated—back and forth, up then down—keeping the tension going at all times. Lick. Suck. Lick. Suck.
Holding on for dear life, his hands pressed firmly against my scalp.
“Keep your eyes on mine.” A deep growl erupted. With joy, his dick exploded in my mouth. “Ti amo!”
After I swallowed his salty cream, I professed, “I love you, too.” My body ached to be fucked by him, but we didn’t have time. Once we got to Berlin, we’d have the entire week to make love.
Moments later, he dressed.
Back to our lists. We had to make sure we weren’t forgetting anything…
“Passports?”
“Check.” Glancing at the photos and birth dates for a second, I tossed them into my carry-on. Wait. Was Jemma’s age correct? I pulled hers back out of the bag and did the math in my head, subtracting her date of birth from that day. Thirty-five…thirty-six. “Jemma isn’t thirty-seven. Is she?”
“Sì, how old did you think she was?”
“Twenty-nine.”
“Rocco. Per favore.”
“That’s what she told me.”
“For the last five years?” Luigi shot me a glare as if I was stupid, kind of hurt my feelings. He could be an ass sometimes, but I still loved him. Jemma, too.
“Don’t you dare look at me as if I’m a fool! I may be gullible, but I’m no one’s fool. Besides, what Italian woman tells the truth about her age?”
A deep baritone chuckle erupted from his mouth. He rubbed a thumb along his pronounced jawline.
I could admit the past five years of our relationship with Jemma had gone by at warp speed. From Mediterranean extravaganzas to European nights of endless euphoria, I’d lost track of our birthday soirées.
“She’s thirty-seven,” he confirmed.
“Typical. Our woman of mystery. Just when I think I know her, I learn something new.”
Sometimes I had to pinch myself that it was all real. Before making a home there, I was a poor wine boy from Chianti who’d worked the vineyards with no formal education. Not like Luigi who had an MBA. Or Jemma who had millions and a world of knowledge because she’d been to just about every country on Earth. The only one in my family to go to the university was my nonno, who became a psychologist.
Plus, I never thought I’d live in an urban city such as we did in Milan—let alone at the Tittoni Estate—work for the royal family, and have a boyfriend and girlfriend such as Luigi and Jemma.
Shocked by my stupidity, his forehead raised. He enjoyed teasing me.
“Stop staring at me like that or you won’t get a b.j. from me for a week,” I pouted.
Not that my threats meant much. In our poly relationship, the minute one person wasn’t in the mood for sex you turned to the other. When that didn’t work, we were free to go outside the relationship, but I never did. Funny, right? We could if we wanted to, but I had no desire to share my body with anyone else but Luigi and Jemma.
More than anything, I wanted us three to be exclusive.
But Jemma had squashed that idea. She’d said, “My darlings, I cannot keep up with you. I tire easily. You two have needs. Need
s which should be met. If not by me, then perhaps by someone else. Don’t deny yourself pleasure. Just be safe, and have fun.”
I never argued with her, because life was too precious. Her cancer had taught me that. However, I didn’t sleep around. Jemma was the only woman I wanted.
While chewing my nail, I realized she’d been a bit different since her chemo. Her sex drive wasn’t as high as it used to be, but that was understandable. All sex aside, she also didn’t seem as close to me and Luigi. Not like before, anyway. At times, seemed as though she held back. If she could look death in the face and win, she could certainly keep her eyes open when I made love to her. She used to always want to make eye contact when she orgasmed. But lately, her eyes were shut tight. She wasn’t enjoying herself.
“Stop biting your nails!”
“Scusi.” I wasn’t always a nail-biter. Not until our thruple had started. As much as I loved us, at times it wore on my nerves. I’d only had a few friends in Rome who’d gotten themselves in poly relationships before and they’d all ended disastrously. Did I usually anticipate the worst outcome in most situations?
Perhaps…
“You pack our toys?” Luigi asked.
“Yes, that was the first thing I put in our suitcases.”
We enjoyed our jelly dongs, vibrators, dildos, and naughty accessories. Jemma wasn’t big on artificial plastic devices. Well, not lately, anyways. She also didn’t let us tie her up.
“Maybe on this trip, she’ll change her mind and give up control.”
“One can hope,” he agreed.
“I can’t always be the submissive one.” I wish I owned a pair of handcuffs.
He laughed.
Inevitably, sex was easy for all three of us. On the contrary, everlasting love was a whole other story. It had been the love which was starting to get harder to steer to a deeper place.
My nonno said I scare people with how in-touch I am with my feelings. That’s what happens when your grandfather is a therapist: you talk about your thoughts, react to how things affect you with words. I miss him. He’s back in Chianti. We used to talk about everything. Unlike Luigi and Jemma who never discuss their feelings. That was why I’d turned to biting my nails, because their silence flipped me out.