by Fiona Murphy
Her blush goes down to her beautiful breasts as they sway with her laughter. “You’re so dirty, Cesare.”
“It’s not dirty, cara, it’s honest.”
“You’re honestly dirty,” she corrects as she rubs the tip of my cock again, and I lose all thought. “Hmm...a way of holding all your attention.” I watch as she lowers her head to my cock. Her hair is in the way again, so I wrap it around my hand.
Christ, she isn’t tentative or shy as her velvet tongue licks the tip of my cock. Her moan matches mine as she does it again, then she sends me out of my skin when her mouth closes around the tip to suck lightly as her tongue toys with the now fast-leaking head of my cock. I want to watch her but my head goes back, to focus on what she’s doing to me. Shit. “Sorry, sorry,” she murmurs as she licks and sucks on the spot where her teeth scraped me. Then I’m lost again as one hand strokes me up then down.
“Tighter, grip me tighter.” I moan as her tongue toys with the underside of my cock.
“Always so bossy,” she mutters against me but she obeys, her grip tightening on me. My cock falls from her mouth. I moan at the loss of her hot little mouth until she runs her tongue up and down the length of me. “Hmm...I like the taste of you.”
Fuck, she’s going to kill me with that slow tongue of hers. She’s tasted every inch of me up and down twice, and I’m fighting not to beg her to go back to sucking me when her mouth wraps around the tip of me again, and now I’m fighting not to come at what she’s doing to me. Just when I think I have a handle on my body, her hand that was stroking the length of me cups my balls, grasping me tight then massaging them as she sucks hard on the tip of me and fuck me, I’m coming. I try to pull her away with the hand in her hair but her grip on me is tight. I give up, and give in to what she’s done to me.
I’m fighting to focus on what is happening when the bed dips. Hell, I hadn’t even realized she was gone. Alicia’s smile of satisfaction is broad on her gorgeous face. “That was very rude of you to try and pull me away. I told you, I wanted to taste you. I meant I wanted to taste all of you. It wasn’t amazing but it wasn’t bad. I’m going to want to do it again. Next time you don’t try and stop me.”
I trace her jaw. “Now who is being bossy?”
“Yep, was it okay?”
“Okay? No, it was mind-blowing.” She smiles as I pull her down to me. With a happy sigh she settles on my chest again. For a few minutes we simply lie there, until I hear her stomach growling. “Hell, I’m sorry. We’ll have a quick shower then get dressed and go get dinner.”
“We don’t have to go out for dinner. I can make us something here.”
Shaking my head, I’m off the bed. I scoop her off the bed as I carry her into the bathroom. “You don’t have to cook.”
“Cesare, I want to cook for us. I don’t really feel like getting dressed and going out. Please. I promise I’m a pretty good cook.”
I set the shower then tug her under the stream with me. I’m not happy with her cooking—I don’t want her to feel like she has to serve me—but if she doesn’t want to go out then I’m not going to make her. “Fine, if it’s what you want. I could order something in, too.”
“It’s not a big deal. I’ll have dinner on the table before it can get here.”
With a shrug, I give in. I take my time to focus on soaping her up, before washing her under the stream. Her little moans are going straight to my cock, which I didn’t think would be ready to go so soon again. Alicia begins cleaning me in return and my cock is begging for her touch. Her hands move slowly over my cock as she cleans me. The witch, she’s learning fast. For a brief second I consider getting a condom, then remember her offer of not having to use one. It’s been decades since I’ve fucked without a condom—I’ve never trusted another woman’s assurances she was safe. I don’t doubt Alicia for a moment.
The shower is more of a wet room with two showerheads above and a strip of them at chest and body height. I pick up Alicia and carry her to the bench. With a moan she’s right there, her hand around my cock, guiding it into her as I move her over me. Holy fucking shit, I’m seeing stars at the feel of her hot, wet, and so fucking tight around my cock, then she’s driving me out of my mind as she’s moving on me on her own. She’s grinding on me, as her pussy throbs and clutches me tight from inside. I barely have time to take it all in when she’s sobbing her orgasm in my ear as her pussy convulses around me. Goddamnit, her pussy clamps down around my cock, milking me for every drop of come in me. Leaning against the wall, I fight for air. Her tongue licks the skin of my neck as she whispers my name. My woman, and I’ll do whatever it takes to keep it that way.
***
Alicia
If somehow this is a dream, I don’t want to ever wake up. Cesare is gentle as he dries me off using an ultra-soft terry bath sheet he wraps around me. “Go get dressed,” he says as he smacks my ass with a heavy hand I feel even through thick terry cloth. So bossy, it’s so totally not a turn-on...okay it is a little, okay a lot.
I stumble out of the bathroom on legs still gooey from what happened in the shower. Wow, it’s all I can think about. It’s hard not to blush as I remember the way I screamed when I came. Only there’s no blush because I also remember the way Cesare growled like an angry wolf as he came inside me, hot, sticky, and so fucking awesome my whole body shuddered and I swear it caused me to come again at the feel of it. Cesare was right: one night would never have been enough.
In the walk-in closet I marvel at how neat and organized everything is. Slipping on a pretty pink silky, stretchy camisole with lace details, I hope Cesare likes it. The top has thin support on the inside because supposedly you could go without a bra. I’m going to disagree with that as my breasts still sway with every movement as I step into the silky pink pajama pants. I find Cesare picking up our clothes to put them in a hamper. Then he turns and sees me. I love Gertrude—she was right, this is much better than an old T-shirt. He crosses to me, his hands at my hips pulling me against him hard and tight. I melt without hesitation.
His kiss is hungry as if we hadn’t just spent hours making love. When he ends the kiss I groan, “You are a revelation hour by hour. I can’t wait to find out more.” Oh my, those large hands of his cup my breasts, then his thumbs tease my nipples. Oh, this is cruel. “Not yet—first we feed one hunger, then we’ll feed the other.”
“Tease.” I pout as he pushes me ahead of him out of the bedroom. His only reply is a chuckle. He stops outside of my room, then goes in. Before I lose my nerve, I ask him, “So is this supposed to be my jail cell or something?”
His shock is immediate, the last of my tension disappears. “What? Why would you think that? You have the entire run of the condo.”
Shrugging, “It’s just this room was decorated for just my use. I mean I love it, don’t get me wrong, I’ve wanted one of those desks for ages but I don’t know, is this where I’m supposed to go when you don’t want to be around me?”
He shakes his head as he comes toward me, his arms sliding around my waist, his hold loose. “Did you not get a look at the condo on your way in here? I’ve gotten a lot of heat from both Enzo and Dante about how...I think Dante describes it as sterile. There aren’t many soft touches to the place. I’m also well aware I’m not the easiest man to be around all the time. I wanted to make sure you had a place to come to feel comfortable. I also don’t like television, so if you do I want you to be able to come in here and watch it.”
I remember thinking the same thing as I walked through the place earlier with Claudine. “It is a little...austere. I guess I was surprised there isn’t a single picture or piece of art anywhere. How long have you lived here?”
His head tilts as he considers the question. Someday I’m going to be able to look at him and not get all soft and gooey about how gorgeous he is. “It will be seven years this year.”
“Seven years?” Good lord, I thought it was like a year or two.
He shrugs. “I don’t spend much time her
e. It’s basically a place to sleep. If I’m here I’m in my office or working out.”
“Thank you, then, for making this room so nice. I’m not much one for television, either. I don’t even have one. There are a few things I watch on a subscription service but not often. I prefer to watch movies, comedies, thrillers, action movies, that kind of thing. Come on, I’m starving.” I pull him behind me out of the room before I try to thank him by begging him to take me on the fluffy white rug.
Walking through the condo knowing he’s been here almost seven years, I see the place differently. The whole front of the condo is open plan. After walking down the hall from the foyer, the kitchen is to the right. It’s a chef’s dream with a six-burner gas stove, a double oven, quartz counters
in black, stainless steel everything and a double door refrigerator that could hold enough food to feed a football team. The cabinets are a dark cherry wood, and there’s a walk-in pantry. Next to the pantry is a wine room, with a refrigerator for whites. Beside the kitchen is a large dining area that seats twenty with a table made out of a solid piece of ebony with black leather chairs.
Dark hardwoods run through the whole place, yet my room and the bathrooms are the only place there are soft rugs on the floor. With the stark white walls, the place feels like a hotel. Actually, I’ve been in homier hotels because at least they had something on the walls, even if it was generic art. I will definitely be thanking him later for my room. My stomach grumbles, okay food now, thanking Cesare later.
I open the refrigerator; there are dozens of bottles of water, some eggs, some cheese and not much else. The freezer is a treasure trove: there’s chicken, three different types of fish, shrimp, and steaks. “Do you eat anything other than steaks?”
He’s watching me from the other side of the large island bar. He smiles at me. “I like most fish, shrimp, I’ll eat chicken as well.”
I love shrimp and it will defrost in no time. I grab a bag of shrimp and put in the sink and turn the water on as hot as it will go. While that’s working I go into the pantry. “Wow, I’ve never seen so many different kinds of pasta.” Two shelves are devoted to pasta in jars. It’s obviously all made by hand, none of that mass-produced stuff in here. I have the perfect dish in mind, it won’t take long.
Only twenty minutes later, I’m proud of myself for how well it turned out and I’m hoping Cesare likes it. I prepare a plate for myself and Cesare. It’s linguine with shrimp in a butter sauce with lemon and a few pinches of red pepper to keep it interesting. Taking the plates to the table, I put them at the end of the table. Cesare is on the long leather couch on his cell phone.
“Come eat,” I call. Man, this place is huge. He gets up, his eyes still on his phone. Nope. “No phones at the table. Either leave it in the living room or turn it off and put it in your pocket.” His eyebrows go up. I don’t back down. “Your business empire won’t come tumbling down while we have dinner.”
“Now who is bossy?” he mutters as he puts his phone down on the leather ottoman that acts as the coffee table. “Did you select a wine?”
“No, I figured that was your area of expertise.”
With a nod he checks our plates. “Looks good, a white it is.” It doesn’t take him long to come to the table with two glasses and a bottle of white wine. He uncorks it and pours with a finesse I wonder if I’ll ever achieve. At his prompting I try the wine.
“Mmm, this is yummy. I used to think I wasn’t a wine drinker. Eating with you has changed that. Then again, I guess if you spend enough the wine can’t be bad.”
He chuckles as he wraps pasta around his fork “Money isn’t the answer to everything in wine. You’d be surprised. The wine we’re drinking is only twenty-three dollars a bottle. It was a lucky find at a local restaurant Dante will often press me to eat at. Once we had it, we asked for it to be included in our usual monthly delivery. We were both surprised to see the cost for a case was less than some of the single bottles we purchase.”
For a few minutes we both are more concerned with our food than conversation. I’m happy he seems to like it. He catches me looking at him. “This is really good. I’m impressed. You even finished the pasta in the sauce the way you’re supposed to instead of just mixing them together at the end.”
I shrug. “It’s easy when I have the contents of a five-star restaurant at my fingertips.”
His smile disappears. “Don’t do that. Do not think you are undeserving of a compliment. It’s also rude to the person who paid you the compliment. When someone compliments you, say thank you.”
He’s so serious. It’s also annoying he’s right—I’ve never been able to simply accept a compliment. “Thank you. I like to cook. I’ve missed it since Bethany went to school and it was just me to cook for.”
“You do it well. You don’t cook at all for yourself?”
“Every once in a while I’ll get the urge, but usually I work so much it’s easier to buy frozen dinners to pop into the microwave. A long time ago I used to cook food for the week then take it to work. The only problem with it was by the end of the week I was sick to death of what I made. So I got out of the habit. Do you cook?”
“I can, my mother was adamant about her boys learning to cook. Once she died, though, I spent all my time working and I’ve gotten out of the habit. Enzo became the cook of the house, then once Enzo enrolled in the Army Dante took over cooking duties. Dante is a damn good cook; I wish he did it more often. He only does it when he’s in a good mood. We’re all lazy and would rather depend on take-out. Enzo depends on dietician-created and delivered food. I used the service for a while too. I got out of the habit though—nothing appealed after I had the same thing over and over. So I fell into the habit of eating out or having something delivered.”
I’m curious. “You said you don’t spend much time at home. What does a normal day look like for you? I know you get to the office at seven. When do you leave the office?”
“Commonly not until around nine or nine thirty. Most days dinner is delivered to the office around seven thirty or eight o’clock, ordered by either Enzo or Dante. We usually eat dinner in my office as we discuss our day, sometimes we’ll go up to the apartment to be more comfortable. Sometimes we’ll hang out and watch a movie, sometimes Enzo and Dante will go out to the bars, other times, Dante and I will go home, even more often we’ll all three go our separate ways for the night. When I get home I’ll do a last check of my email or attend to anything I shut down for dinner. Then depending on the time, I’ll work out or simply get ready for bed.”
Huh, am I only going to get to see him at night? I don’t like the idea of that at all. “What about the weekends?”
He shrugs. “I work on Saturday, and sometimes Dante comes into the office for part of the day. On the Saturdays when he’s otherwise involved, I’ll have dinner ordered up then go home. On Sunday, I’ll take the day off and read or I’ll get roped into watching a movie at Dante’s. When the weather is nice we’ll go out hang out on Dante’s boat.”
I do my best to school my features to bland because I’m trying not to freak out. Cesare Sabatini is a workaholic; he also sounds like a heart attack waiting to happen. Things will have to change. I’m not going to give him any warning, though, as I’m sure if I do he’ll find ways to get out of it. Lost in my thoughts, I’m surprised by Cesare’s question.
“Where is your dog? I didn’t see any sign of him.”
“He probably hid under the chaise the minute he heard your voice going toward my room. Grover is terrified of men. So fair warning, no matter how nice you are to him, he’ll likely act as if you’re trying to kill or have kicked him.”
“Who hurt him enough to make him so scared?”
I’m relieved he’s concerned, not annoyed the way other people have been about Grover’s fear. “I have no idea—he was that way when we found him. We think he was maybe a pet of an older woman or someone who didn’t get around much because he wasn’t used to walks and hates them. When we tried to
take him to the park, he was freaked out by the grass. He does his business on a piece of Astroturf I put on the fire escape. My sister said she spotted him in an alley one day, but she couldn’t catch him at first. It took two days and an entire hamburger before he let her close enough to pick him up. Who knows what happened to him in the time it took her to find him?”
“How will he be with me here?”
It was my one real concern about my staying with Cesare. “I have no idea. He’s content to stay in one spot, his dog bed under my desk when I’m at home even when I’m not working at it. So he’ll probably just hide there if he hears you. I put some Astroturf in the room in case he gets too scared to come out when you’re around.”
He nods even though he still looks concerned. As we finish dinner, I’m surprised but happy Cesare helps me clean up the kitchen. His phone goes off with several text notifications, and he sighs as he texts back. “Heads up, Dante knows about the money and he’s coming in hot.”
Seconds later the front door opens with a bang of the door hitting the wall behind it. From down the hall Dante yells a word in Italian, and I don’t have to speak the language to know it’s bad. Dante rounds the corner, and seeing Cesare he starts spitting a stream of Italian at Cesare like the words are bullets shooting to kill. “Stop it, Dante, stop it. Please, I’m sorry. I am so sorry. I’ll quit. I understand you not wanting me there anymore. Whatever you want, but please stop talking to your brother that way.”
Shaking his head, Dante looks to me. The Italian starts again.
“English,” Cesare yells.
I’m only now able to tell Dante is drunk. He moves toward me. “I told you I would protect you if you needed it. Did you not believe me? I would never have allowed him to force you into this.”
“He didn’t force me to do anything. I want to be here. I’ve wanted to be for a long time. I told you that. Cesare would have never used me taking the money against me. I’m here because I want to be, not for any other reason.”