“You don’t have to work, Francesca,” he says, his voice is soft, cajoling. Different to how he’s been speaking to me of late.
“But I want to, this is my dream job. I studied for years to get this, I don’t want to throw it away.” My eyes search his. “Can we find a solution…it’s only a couple of weeks.”
He exhales heavily. “I’ll see what I can do.”
I nod with a lopsided smile, “Thanks.”
We stare at each other, alone in the darkened hall. The air circles between us and it’s still there.
Like a tangible entity, I can feel it between us. A force to be reckoned with.
“Don’t marry him,” he murmurs.
“Why not?”
“Because I asked you not to.”
My heart constricts as we stare at each other and then, without another word, he turns and disappears down the hall.
I walk back into my room and I lock that fucking door.
Giuliano
I rush down the stairs as fast as I can, I loosen my tie with a sharp snap.
Distance.
As a matter of urgency.
I need to create some distance before I throw her onto the bed and punish her for pissing me off.
With my heart racing I walk into my living room and straight to the bar, I fill a glass with ice and then pour the scotch in so fast that it sloshes over the sides.
I tip my head back and down it in one go.
I fill the glass again and I glance over to the staircase as it taunts me.
She’s in my house.
The woman I’ve been fantasizing about for ten long years…is here.
And I can’t have her.
Fuck.
I refill my glass and drain it again, I wince as I feel the burn all the way down my esophagus.
I close my eyes and inhale with a shaky breath as I try to will myself to a state of calm. The pulse in my cock is unrelenting and takes me back to the alleyway, reminding me of her kiss.
The softness of her lips, the feel of her in my arms. The way she makes me feel.
I close my eyes in regret.
If ever there were a fucked-up situation, this is it.
I drag my hand through my hair and I glance over at the staircase again.
Just once.
Nobody would even know.
Stop it.
I refill my glass and walk out onto the balcony and sit down. I look out over the twinkling lights of Rome and light a cigar, I sip my scotch and take a long inhale.
It’s never going to happen.
I’ll just…. No.
Don’t go there.
An hour later I walk inside and see Francesca’s cashmere scarf lying over the couch and without thought, I pick it up and lift it to my face.
It’s soft and warm…it smells like her.
The blood rushes through my body at speed and I inhale deeply again, my cock thickens.
I glance to the staircase, what’s she doing up there? Does she have clothes on, are her legs open? I get a vision of her naked and on top of me, her legs spread wide, riding my cock, her large breasts bouncing as I pump her.
She’d be wet and creamy, swollen and I….
Just once.
I inhale deeply and I shudder as my cock releases a load of pre-ejaculate, fuck…. I could come just by her scent on her scarf.
Like a zombie in a trance, I walk to the bottom of the staircase and stare up it.
How does she taste? I imagine myself holding her legs wide, her feet resting on my shoulders.
I take a step up, I take another.
Her ass…. I never fucked her ass…. I bet it’s taut and tight, I get a vision of myself riding her from behind, the sound of the lube slapping, her hair would be wild and she’d be so fucking hot for it. I’d break her in…again.
I’d ride her all fucking night.
I take another three steps.
I imagine myself fucking her mouth, my load dripping over her big lips. Her cunt creamy and swollen for me, my cock shudders, I’m about to blow just imagining it.
I need her.
My cock is aching and like a zombie being called home, I slowly walk up the stairs. I stop outside her door and stare at it.
Throb…throb…throb goes my pulse down below. I lift the scarf and inhale deeply and my cock shudders hard.
I’m going to come.
I unzip my suit pants, take my cock in my hand, her door millimeters from my face. I stroke my thick length hard, the tip grazing across the timber on the door and I inhale deeply as my pre-ejaculate smears where it shouldn’t. The evidence of what I so desperately need.
Francesca.
I remember the way she kissed me earlier, so feminine, so hungry.
So missed.
My strokes harder and harder, I need it to hurt. Punish myself for wanting her so badly.
I inhale her scent on the scarf and losing control, I blow hard against her door.
I pant in silence, my heart is beating so hard, my skin is misted with perspiration.
Disgusted, my forehead falls forward to lean against the door. So close, but worlds apart.
I’m in a living hell.
I need you.
“You ready to go soon?” I ask.
“Uh-huh, are you sure you don’t mind taking me back to my hotel? Someone else can drive me, I don’t want to be an inconvenience,” Francesca replies. She’s wearing a white robe that was hanging in her bathroom, her long dark hair is up in a messy bun on the top of her head and she looks beautifully disheveled.
Breathtaking.
“Of course not.” I stare at her for a beat longer than I should and then snap my eyes away. “I’m ready to leave when you are,” I mutter as I make myself a cup of coffee.
I feel like shit, I slept all of nine minutes. The thought of her upstairs alone in bed was a new level of torture.
My balls ached all fucking night.
She gives me a soft smile. “Thanks.” She turns and walks up the hallway and I stare after her as I bite my bottom lip, okay…. Stop it.
Get a hold of yourself.
Right now.
Ten minutes later she appears in the fitted black dress and high heels she was wearing last night, this is just great.
She’s like fucking clickbait.
I wish she would wear a garbage bag…and a gorilla mask. A huge-ass chastity belt wouldn’t hurt either.
Eye contact, look at her eyes. Do not look down.
“Are you ready to go?” she asks.
Am I ever!
“Uh-huh.” I walk up the hall toward the front door.
She follows me out and we get into the elevator, I stare straight ahead and remain silent.
If I don’t speak, I can’t be an asshole.
It shouldn’t piss me off that she’s moved on without me, but fuck it, it does.
“What time will you be finished today?” I ask as we go down.
“About two.”
“What hotel chain is it?”
“The Remington.”
I frown. “I haven’t heard of that before?”
“It’s a small luxury boutique chain.”
“Okay, what time do you want me to arrange your flight?”
“Umm, I don’t know, about five?”
“To Paris?”
She looks over and her eyes hold mine.
The elevator doors open, breaking the moment. “Yes, Paris,” she replies.
She’s going back to him.