by C.J Duggan
The last time I had left the Colosseum I had been sick and sorry, with unsatisfied curiosity, speeding away on Marcello’s Vespa. Now, I stood in front of the large stone mass, awe-struck and ready to discover the layers of its history. Our tour explored not only the main arena but the dungeons and upper tiers that were closed to the general public, revealing the deepest, darkest secrets of the arena. It was a sobering exploration: long gone were the giggles and jokes; instead, a quiet reflectiveness came over the group. It would take more than one afternoon to truly unpack this ancient wonder, but it was a mighty good way to start ticking off my Rome wish list. I couldn’t have hoped for a better experience, with a better bunch of people. When Nora’s little blue-rinsed head rested on my shoulder on the journey home, and a light snore filtered through my ear, I didn’t mind, and I was a little sad bidding the Golden Slumbers crew goodbye from Marcello’s doorstep.
With my new T-shirt and a spring in my step, I knocked on the big green door. To my surprise, it opened straightaway, but no one stood there to greet me. I pushed it slowly open, peering inside to see Rosalia.
‘Ciao!’ I said; I was in such a great mood that I was happy to see her, even if the feeling wasn’t mutual. Mumbling under her breath, she scooped up the sunglasses and set of keys that Marcello had dumped on the side table, then headed for the stairs.
‘Busy day?’ I pressed.
Rosalia stopped on the stairs, turning to look down at me. ‘He is like a snake, shedding his clothes by the door, things here and there.’
I tried to contain myself; it was the most English I had ever heard her speak.
‘Boys, huh, always so messy.’
She hmmphed, rolling her eyes and starting up the stairs; once again the house was filled with the most delicious aroma.
I followed Rosalia into the kitchen, where her main focus was the pot on the stove. I was caught between the lure of the smell and finding out where Marcello was.
As if reading my mind, Rosalia pointed up. ‘Di sopra.’
‘Upstairs?’
‘Si, la trappola mortale.’
I laughed. ‘Roof terrace, huh?’
Rosalia nodded, retrieving the spoon from the pot, blowing it before holding it out to me, ‘Gusta,’ she said.
‘Oh, okay.’ I leaned down, slurping the tomato sauce from the spoon. An explosion of flavours burst in my mouth, causing my eyes to widen as I looked at her.
‘Good?’ she asked.
I said the only word that really fit the feeling, ‘Bellissimo!’ and gave her a thumbs up. A satisfied smirk lined her weathered face as she looked at me as if I were a little mad. Still, I saw that smile for what it was.
Another little victory.
Braving the lone ride in the ‘death trap’, I made my way up to the roof terrace, pushing through the heavy door. I kind of expected to see Marcello at work, painting one of the thousands of shades of light; instead, he was walking towards me, having heard me come through the door. Seeing his face was enough of a welcome, but seeing the terrace lit with dozens of tea light candles was something else.
‘What’s all this?’
‘You can’t come to Rome and not have a dinner on a terrace.’
‘I won’t argue with that,’ I said, moving towards a table set for two, covered in white linen. I picked up the single rose that was set on my folded napkin and smelt its perfume, watching as Marcello uncorked some wine.
‘I had such a great day,’ I said.
‘Me too,’ he said, glancing up from pouring my glass.
As I picked up my wine and admired the view, my heart swelled so big I had no words to fill the space, nothing would fit. I couldn’t express my feelings in Italian or English—it was all too much. I glanced down at the table setting, my brows pinching together.
‘Marcello, how is Rosalia going to—’
‘Ah,’ he cut me off, ‘I knew you would ask me that.’ He took a sip from his glass, then placed it back down before moving to the opposite side of the terrace. I watched, intrigued, as he lifted a hutch to reveal a small alcove inside. ‘A mini death trap for food,’ he said, reaching over to pick up the rose, holding it up to me, asking if I minded.
‘Go ahead.’
He placed the rose inside, closing the hutch and pushing the button, sending it downstairs.
‘You didn’t think I would make her carry it up the stairs, did you?’
I laughed. ‘No, but I know she would; she’d do anything for you—even clean up your mess at the front door,’ I said, looking at him pointedly, sipping on my big glass of red.
He winced, knowing exactly what I was talking about. ‘Si, old habits die hard.’
He motioned for me to sit, pulling the chair out for me before taking the seat opposite.
Straightening my cutlery, I was just about to ask Marcello how the rooftop class went when I noticed him flicking over the screen of his phone, looking lost.
‘What is it?’
‘Maria left a message, said she would call in the morning.’
‘Do you think she’s found my passport?’
‘I dare say that’s why she is calling. If it was anything bad, she would have called back tonight.’
‘Maybe, but she might not have found out anything yet. She may just have been calling for an update.’
‘Well, if I know Maria she will get to the bottom of it soon, I wouldn’t worry,’ he said, switching off his phone and pocketing it, giving me his full attention. ‘Now, how was your day?’
I broke into a winning smile. ‘That’s what I was going to say.’
Chapter Thirty-Eight
‘Let’s take the stairs!’ My voice echoed as I pulled Marcello along the hall.
‘Are you serious?’
‘Come on, we need to walk off this food.’
‘And wine?’
‘That too.’
‘You know wine and stairs can be a deadly combination.’
‘Well, to be honest, being enclosed in a small, intimate space with you right now is also probably not the best idea,’ I said, leaning against the wall near the elevator, my eyes burning into Marcello’s.
‘Oh, and why is that?’ he asked, feigning innocence.
You bloody well know why.
The way his leg brushed against mine under the table, or the slide of his spoon on my tongue as I sampled the sweetest panna cotta. I wasn’t sure if it was the setting of the sun, the twinkling of candlelight or the warm summer night, but there was something brewing between us, and it was definitely a dangerous thing.
I stepped forward, pressing my lips to his ear. ‘Why do you think?’
And just as the elevator chimed and the doors opened, I took off, running for the stairs.
‘Sammi, wait!’
I swung around the bannister, my hand skimming all the way down as I tried to steady myself while flying down the stairs, It was an unwise thing to do, but I didn’t care much about anything other than the sound of Marcello’s steps closing in on me as he called out for me to stop, which only urged me on. Out of breath from laughter and sheer excitement, I swooped around, ready to descend the next flight, but Marcello reached out and grabbed me by the waist, spinning me around to the wall, my breathing heavy, my cheek resting on the cool surface of the plaster. I could feel his breath at my neck, blowing strands of my hair across my other cheek, both our hearts thundering in unison.
‘Trust you to stop on this floor,’ he breathed.
I slowly turned myself around to face him, his hands splayed on the wall on either side of my head, caging me in.
‘I didn’t exactly stop by choice—you caught me.’
Marcello laughed. ‘And so I did.’
Something intense burned in Marcello’s eyes. I had seen it before, and I felt the same pull now as I had the night I invited him up to my room. As amazing as it had been, I really didn’t want to think about that night. The way I had behaved, as if I had used him. Christ, I had even looked to Jodie as an example. I
was embarrassed, ashamed. Marcello had every right to slam the door in my face but instead he had opened his home to me. Fed me, put a roof over my head, shared with me the most intimate part of him, his art. One brick at a time, his barricade was falling, and I was seeing the deeper side to him. Beyond the gorgeous smile and the self-assured way he carried himself, there was so much more to this man, and I really wanted him to know that there was so much more to me than that horrible version I had showed him.
‘Marcello, about the other night, I just—’
‘It’s okay,’ he said, cutting off my words.
‘Well, no, it’s not.’
Something shifted in him, as if we were headed somewhere he wasn’t comfortable going. The wall was back up.
‘I just want you to know that I’m not the kind of girl who brings men into my bed and kicks them out come sun-up. In fact, it never happens, and certainly not with someone like you … so, yeah, I guess I just panicked, and I wanted you to know that, in case what I did or how I behaved made you think less of me.’
I winced; I really needed to just stop talking. I could see the darkness in Marcello’s eyes, as if he was drinking in everything I had said, rolling it around in his head, unpacking it. He looked confused, which only made me feel worse.
Will I ever learn to shut the hell up?
Was now the right time to slink back to my room?
But instead of giving me reassuring words, he did something far simpler, and far more effective. He smiled, big and brilliant, and pushed off the wall, pointing to the door behind him.
‘You coming?’
I glanced up the hall. I had never been on this level before. I leaned over the bannister to get my bearings.
‘What floor are we on?’
‘My floor,’ he said, looking at me intently.
And just like that, I was sober. I cleared my throat. ‘Oh, right.’
All amusement drained away from us and now we simply stood there, our breaths the only thing filling the space. It was such a strange feeling. It wasn’t like we hadn’t been in this position before: we’d fooled around before, so why was this time so different? Why was there so much more weight to this moment?
Marcello voiced the very reason. ‘If you come into my room, I am not going to be able to stop this time.’
I smiled, stepping closer to him, trying to break his stony façade. ‘Are you saying you want to go all the way with me, Marcello?’ I joked, but he didn’t seem to be in the laughing mood, not anymore. Instead, he slid his hand down my arm, causing a shiver to run through my body, lacing his fingers through mine as he backed against his door, pulling me with him. He never answered my question but the way his eyes burned into mine, I think I knew my answer.
Marcello opened the door to his bedroom, which was more of an apartment. The warm tones of his bedding and dark furniture were a stark contrast to the marbled greys and whites of the main house. This room was all Marcello; he had put his stamp on it. I let go of Marcello’s hand in order to explore the room as he shut the door behind us, the thud making my heart jump. Marcello crossed his arms and leant against the door, watching me move along the expansive fireplace, under a large, macabre streetscape.
‘Did you do this?’
‘Si, a long time ago.’
‘How long have you been painting?’
‘Since I was a boy.’
‘It makes you happy?’
‘Not always. It can be … frustrating.’
‘Well, nothing worthwhile was ever easy.’
He moved to stand by my side, the two of us looking up at the painting like we were standing in a gallery—except what I was about to do, well, it probably wouldn’t be socially acceptable in a public place. I pressed into him, kissing his neck, basking in the warmth of him, the smell of his skin and the way his chest expanded when I touched him, my hands sliding over his chest and feeling the soft fabric of his shirt as I linked my hands behind his neck, looking up at him with a small smile.
‘What?’
I shook my head. ‘I can’t believe you let me take you back to my squalid, bug-infested bedroom when you have this literally a stone’s throw away.’
Marcello’s chest vibrated against me. ‘Well, you know what they say?’
‘You do it with your eyes closed?’
Marcello shook his head. ‘No. Nothing worthwhile was ever easy. Also, I couldn’t wait any longer.’
‘Aha! So that’s why you wanted to take the elevator tonight.’
‘What can I say? I’m an impatient man.’
And with that he scooped me up from the floor, lifting me into his arms and spinning me around towards his bed, dumping me on the mattress in a fit of giggles. Collapsing on top of me, he caged me in with his arms.
‘Stop laughing, I am trying to seduce you,’ he said, struggling to keep a straight face.
‘Oh, sorry,’ I said, trying to breathe as I wiped the tears from my cheeks.
Marcello rolled on his back, rubbing his hands over his face as if giving up on me; the harder I tried to stop laughing the more hysterical I got, the mattress vibrating as I clamped my hands over my mouth.
‘Okay, okay, I’ll stop now,’ I said, sitting up and taking in a deep, steadying breath. Marcello looked up at me, his hands linked behind his head, his eyes alight with mischief, looking at me as if to say, ‘Are you quite done?’ And I was, because if there was anything that was going to calm me, it was those eyes, near on hypnotising, looking into my soul and making me burn in places that begged to be touched. Never taking my eyes from him, I shifted, moving to slide my leg over his hips, straddling him as he lay there watching my every slow, deliberate move. His eyes dipped to my hands moving to his shirt buttons. A sure long line downwards, popping them apart one by one. I wouldn’t be so kind to his belt buckle, I could promise him that.
Marcello sat up, grabbing the fabric of my Golden Slumbers T-shirt, frowning at it and yanking it over my head. ‘That’s definitely got to go,’ he said, kissing my mouth and nipping at my lower lip.
‘What, you don’t find my T-shirt sexy?’ I breathed against his mouth, but he was too distracted to answer. His breaths were heavy, his hands too fast and clever, working their way into my unbuttoned shorts, sliding inside, beyond the damp, thin fabric of my knickers. My hands dug into his shoulders, rocking against his fingers, first one then another sliding in and out, working me up for what was to come. I pulled the fabric of his shirt backwards, biting into his neck as he rocked me harder, faster, yanking my bra down and exposing me to him, his eyes watching as my breasts moved with every rock, lowering his head to take my nipple in his mouth, moaning into my skin.
Unlike the last time, there was the faintest light in our room, casting a rich, low, warm glow around the space. And this time I was glad because I wanted to see every curve of his body, every expression twist on his face as I freed him from his pants.
‘Marcello.’ I swallowed, my voice uneven, a simple one word spoken in a plea and he knew exactly what it meant. He shifted and I fell back onto the mattress. He hooked his fingers into my shorts and in one swift motion they were gone, followed by his shirt, which he threw aside as he pressed down on me, his broad shoulders engulfing me as he took my mouth, hot and heavy. He had filled me with fingers and now his tongue but I wanted more. Reading my mind, my body, he reached for his drawer to grab a condom. My mind was suddenly reeling.
Oh, God.
He sheathed himself—apparently there were condoms that big. I swallowed, feeling my chest rise and fall heavily as Marcello positioned himself between my legs, splaying his hands on my thighs and pushing them wider, opening me to him. He ran his hard length along my dampened seam, looking down between us then up at me, smiling as he teased me, edging his way in slowly while my hands twisted in the bed sheets.
There’s no way … there’s no room.
But he made room. With one deep push he was inside me and I gasped into his shoulder. Marcello stayed still, allowing me to
adjust to the feel of him, looking at me intently, then kissing my mouth.
‘Are you okay?’
I nodded, because I had no breath to speak. My only reality was the feel of him inside me, filling me so completely it was almost too much. But when I looked up into his eyes, I could see his tenderness, the light of the moon casting a glow over his beautiful face, and I leant up on my elbows, taking his mouth and kissing his lips oh so softly, telling him I was okay, giving him the reassurance he needed. As he kissed me back, his once tense body melted into me and I started rocking my hips into him, slowly at first, encouraging him to move with me.
Each stroke led to another, each one faster, deeper, more needed than the last as our fucking became frenzied and sweaty, sheets twisting and my screams echoing in the room. Marcello didn’t tell me to be quiet; if anything, he encouraged me, whispering wicked-sounding things in my ear that, despite not knowing their translation, made me even hungrier for him.
Marcello rolled onto his back, taking me with him. My hands splayed on his chest, he grabbed my hips, guiding my pace, urging me to ride him faster and faster until his groans told me what I needed to hear, allowing me to let myself go. I came, so hard, unable to give any more as the sensation became too much, too raw, while Marcello thrust into me one final time and then came, clamping me in place and giving everything he had to give.
I fell over him, breathless and utterly consumed, my damp hair plastered to his chest, my temple feeling the racing of his heart as the aftershocks twitched through our bodies. I closed my eyes, shivering at the feel of his arms sweeping over my sensitive skin as he held me. He held me for so long, still inside me, one being as our breathing slowed, Marcello running his fingers through my hair. Finally I lifted my face to his, smiling broadly and resting my head on my hand.