The Italian

“What are you doing here?” I blurt out.

“Looking for you.”

I frown. That’s not the answer I was expecting. “You’re looking for me?”

“Yes, and here you are.”

Thump, thump, thump goes my heart.

“You look beautiful.” He takes my hand and holds it out as his eyes roam up and down my body. “Very nice,” he purrs.

“Thanks.” Nerves steal my breath as I stare at him.

“Next!” the bartender calls. I turn and step forward, and Enrico comes up snug behind me.

“I’ll have two margaritas, please,” I tell the bartender, totally distracted by the man behind me. Enrico’s hand goes to my waist and electricity shoots through me. “Do… do you want a drink?” I ask him over my shoulder.

“I’ll have an Amaro, please.” He digs out his wallet and hands his card to the waiter.

“That’s not necessary. I’ll get it,” I say.

His hands fall to my hips, instantly silencing me. He bends and puts his lips to my ear. “You will get it.” Goosebumps scatter over my skin at the feeling of his breath on my neck. “But I’ll get this one.”

Oh jeez…

I stand and watch the bartender make the drinks as Enrico’s hands stay fixed on my waist. The heat from his touch feels like it’s starting a slow burning fire.

Shit, shit, shit, shit.

The waiter puts the drinks on the counter.

“I’ll help you carry them,” Enrico says. He picks up two and I pick up one. He follows me outside.

Natalie glances up as I approach. Her eyes widen when she sees him behind me.

“Here you are.” I smile awkwardly and hand over her drink.

“Thanks.” She smiles.

I turn to Enrico. “Natalie, this is Enrico, a friend I met in Rome.”

Enrico’s eyes hold mine for an extended beat and he raises a brow. Finally, his manners surface, and he smiles. “Nice to meet you, Natalie.” He shakes her hand and then passes me my drink.

Natalie goes back to the man she was talking to, and Enrico bends to whisper in my ear. “So, I’m your friend?”

“What would you prefer I introduce you as?”

He sips his drink with a straight face. “Not that.” Unable to help it, I smile over at him and he smiles back. “How has your week been, Olivia?”

“Good. Yours?”

He shrugs. “Okay.”

“Just okay?”

“Just okay.”

We fall silent, and I don’t know what to say. He makes me so nervous.

“Let’s go and sit down.” He gestures to a bench seat beneath a canopy.

My eyes flicker to it. “Okay.”

I follow him over to the corner of the courtyard. It’s darker here, but the space is lit with fairy lights. We find our spot and sit beside each other.

“Closer, bella.” He grabs my hips and drags me to him. The dominance of the act starts a series of memories to flood my mind. The way he moved me while we made love. He just flipped me around like a feather. My body was at his disposal.

“Tell me why your week was just okay,” I say.

He smiles as he looks out over the other clubbers. “Let’s just say that having you in town is very… distracting. I’ve been unable to focus on anything knowing you were so close.”

Hope blooms in my chest. I don’t know what I’m hoping for, but it’s most definitely there.

I look out over the club, searching for something intelligent to say. “I’m sorry about your father,” I whisper. “I was so shocked when you told me, I didn’t offer my condolences.”

A soft smile dusts his face.

“I wish you’d told me back then,” I say softly.

He clenches his jaw and stays silent.

I twist my fingers in front of me. “Do you come here often?”

We turn back to each other, and his dark eyes hold mine. “No.”

“Oh.”

An awkward silence falls over us. I have to concentrate to remember to breathe. He’s not chatty like he was before. He seems more intense, or am I imagining it?

“You’re different,” I whisper.

“How so?”

“You’re quiet now.”

He smiles sadly. “I just….” He stops himself from saying more.

“You just…?”

He shrugs. “Words escape me sometimes.”

I smile as I catch the first glimpse of the man I met. “Did you organize for me to come to Milan?”

“Yes,” he confirms without hesitation. “And you weren’t ever supposed to find that out. Damn Giorgio and his big mouth.”

I smile. “Why did you want me here?”

“I needed to see you.” His eyes hold mine.

“Why didn’t you just call me?”

A frown crosses his brow. “Because I knew you wouldn’t come for me alone.”

Does he even know me at all?

We stare at each other and I feel this connection that just shouldn’t be there. Not after this long—not after the way he treated me.

“What are you thinking?” he whispers.

“I don’t know.” Thump, thump, thump goes my heart. “What are you thinking?”

He leans toward me. “I’m thinking that you’re the most beautiful fucking woman I have ever seen, and I……” His voice trails off.

“And you what?”

“I need to kiss you.”

I stare at him as the air swirls between us. “So, do it.”

He frowns and his eyes lift to the people around us. “I can’t. I can’t kiss you here.”

“Why not?”

He gives a subtle shake of his head and clenches his jaw. “I don’t get to choose what I do in public anymore.”

Fuck, he doesn’t want me.

I fake a smile and stand. “That’s okay, I get it.”

He frowns and stands abruptly. “You get what?”

“I’m not playing this game, Rico. You don’t have to say pretty things. You don’t have to kiss me. I’m not going to beg. How pathetic do you think I am?”

“You think I don’t want you?”

I roll my eyes. “Just leave it.”

He grabs my hand and pulls me through the club quickly. “What are you doing?” I cry out. We cross the dance floor, walk through the hall, and we enter another room. I glance around to see we’re in an office of some kind.

Enrico slams me up against the back of the door. “I said I can’t kiss you. Not that I didn’t want to.”

His lips take mine aggressively. His tongue slides through my open lips, and I melt against him. He pushes his hard body up against mine as he moans into my mouth. We lose control. My hands are in his hair when he slams me harder against the wall. I feel his hard length up against my stomach. He bends and runs his hand up my thigh, under my dress. His tongue seductively dances with mine as he pushes my panties to the side.

We fall silent as his fingers slowly circle through my dripping wet flesh.

“Solleva la gamba, lasciami entrare.” Translation: lift your leg, let me in.

“What?” I pant.

“Wrap your leg around me.”

I slowly lift my leg, and he pushes two thick fingers inside me. My head falls back. Oh, fuck.

“Cazzo, sei un fuoco” Translation: fucking hell, you’re on fire.

His grip on my hair is painful. His tongue in my mouth mirrors his thick fingers, pumping to a slow, erotic dance. The sound of my wet arousal hangs in the air.

His teeth slide down my neck with a sharp hiss.

“So… wet… fucking tight,” he whispers, accentuating the Ts. “I’ve missed you and this beautiful cunt.”

Oh God.

He really begins to work me, and I hold onto his forearm as my mouth hangs open. Our eyes are locked, and I can feel the muscles in his forearm contract. Oh yes, it’s been too long.

I shudder, and he immediately pulls out.

“Don’t stop,” I plead.

“You won’t come here.” He kisses me again, but this time it’s slow and deliberate. Then, as if the last five minutes didn’t happen, he regains composure. He straightens my dress, pulls it down, and drops it back into position. He runs his fingers through his hair, and before I can protest, he’s pulling me out of the room. He drags me back through the club, and my mind is a blur. How is he even functioning right now?

I’m so close to coming that the smoke machine might set me off. My body is contracting as she searches for those fingers. I grit my teeth as I try to focus on where he’s taking me.

“Olivia, please meet my friends.” He presents me with a cool, calm, and collected smile. “This is Matteo, my brother, and Fabien, my best friend.”

I smile as I look between them. I’m flushed and messed up. Can they tell that their friend has just finger fucked me in an office?

“Hi,” I offer.

“Hello.” Matteo smiles as he kisses my cheek.

“Lovely to meet you.” Fabien smiles, too. “Do you live in Milan?”

“Yes, I’m new here.” I glance over to Enrico. With his dark eyes locked on mine, he brings his fingers up to his nose and inhales.

The air leaves my lunges in a rush. What the fuck?

I watch on as he slowly puts his two middle fingers deep into his mouth and sucks them clean. His eyes flicker with arousal at my taste, and he licks his lips as if savoring every last drop.

My stomach flutters. Good God.

I lose the ability to speak. All coherent thought leaves my mind, and my sex begins to throb. Hell, I need him. I need all of him. I don’t give a damn about Mafiosi or tomorrow or anything to do with reality.

I need Rico tonight.

“Do you live here?” I ask Fabien, distracted. I get a vision of Rico naked… in my bed.

Fuck, yes.

His friend keeps talking but I can hardly hear them over the heat of his stare on me. I can’t speak, I can’t do anything. My body is in complete meltdown.

It’s on a mission to fuck.

I glance over to see that the man Natalie was talking to now has his hand on her hip. She’s looks settled for the night. I can’t stand here like this for one moment longer.

It’s now or never.

I crook my finger, and Rico leans in. “Let’s go,” I whisper.

A dark smirk crosses his face. “We’re leaving,” he announces immediately. “See you tomorrow.”

Before I can hardly say goodbye to them, he’s pulling me by the hand over to Natalie.

“Hi.” I smile as I get to her.

“I’m going to get something to eat with Rico,” I lie.

Nat smiles mischievously. “Sure.” She looks over to Rico. “Take care of her.”

Rico eyes hold mine. “I intend to.”

We walk through the crowd and my body starts to hum. I know what’s coming, and goddamn it, I can’t wait. We arrive at the front doors of the club and he drops my hand.

“My car is this way.”

I follow him down the steps, and I go to grab his hand again.

“Don’t,” he whispers, discretely pulling his hand away.

I frown. “Why not?”

He looks across the road to a parked car with men sitting inside it. “My security guys are here. I don’t feel comfortable being affectionate in front of them.” He begins to walk faster.

“Oh.” I nearly have to run to keep up as my eyes dart around. “Is that why you wouldn’t kiss me inside?”

He nods once, and we arrive at a black sporty-looking car. He opens the door for me, and I get in. I look around at the black leather interior. It has that new car scent with all the bells and whistles inside. Wow, this thing is swanky.

He gets in, and without a word, he starts the car and pulls out into the traffic. Once alone, he grabs my hand and lifts it to his lips. He kisses me tenderly as his eyes come to me.

“That’s better.”

“Where are we going?” I ask.

His eyes go back to the road. “My place.”

“What’s wrong with my hotel?”

“Nothing,” he replies casually as he turns the corner. “It’s just safer at my house.”

I frown, safe from what? “Why do you have security now?”

“It’s a necessary evil.” His hand slides up my thigh and he inhales sharply. “Let’s talk about how fucking edible you look in that dress tonight.”

I smile and glance behind us to see the two cars trailing behind us. We drive on in silence. He seems lost in thought, and my mind is on the security cars behind us. Why are they here? Is he in danger of some kind? I turn again and look out the back window to make sure I’m not imagining it.

Two cars both filled with men trail at a safe distance behind. “Where do you live?” I ask

“In the Magenta District. It’s not far.”

The farther we drive away from the club, the more a little of my sanity returns.

Shit, what am I doing?

I told myself to stay away from him, yet here I am on my way to his house. I get a vision of us in that office and how incredibly hot he felt. How dominant he is… hard. Damn my body and her carnal needs.

Horny bitch.

He pulls into an underground parking lot and the cars pull in behind us. I feel like I’m in a James Bond movie or something. He parks the car, and then comes around to open my door.

The men get out of their cars and pretend not to look at me, although I can feel their assessing eyes.

“This way,” Rico says, void of emotion. I follow him into the elevator and the door shuts behind us. He instantly grabs my hand and smiles softly.

There he is…

“I don’t like you not touching me in public.”

“I don’t like not touching you.”

He leans in takes my face in both hands, and he kisses me. It’s soft, with just the right amount of suction. My feet nearly lift off the floor. He kisses me again as he begins to walk me backwards, and then the ping notifies us of our arrival.

The doors open up and Rico pulls me out. I look around in wonder. The elevator doors opened up directly into his apartment.

It’s huge with a mezzanine level upstairs. City lights twinkle through the expansive glass wall, and there’s a pool outside on the private terrace.

“This is your house?” I whisper, wide-eyed.

“Yes.” He puts his hands into his pockets, giving me time to look around and get my bearings. “Do you want the tour?”

I nod, suddenly too nervous to speak.

He pulls me through the foyer and down a few dark timber stairs.

“Living area,” he says. I look around in wonder. There are navy and chocolate slouchy leather couches, a huge bluestone fireplace, and beautiful colored artwork. We walk through double timber doors.

“Dining area.” A beautiful pale wood dining table that seats twelve sits in the middle of the room. “Kitchen.” The kitchen doesn’t even look like a kitchen. It looks like an exotic restaurant that you would see in a travel brochure. Chunky metal light fittings hang from the ceiling, and large benches take up the floor space.

“Did you pick all the furnishings?” I ask him.

He smiles softly as if imagining what I must see through my eyes. “Yes.”

What are you doing here, Olivia? This is out of your league.

His eyes come to mine. “Do you want to see my bedroom?”

Butterflies flutter deep in my stomach. “I don’t know, do I?”

He steps forward and takes my face in his hands. “Your body told me earlier that you do.”

“You shouldn’t listen to her. She’s…” I stop talking, distracted by his big lips that are suddenly on mine.

“She’s… what?” he breathes.

“She’s good to go and trying to get me into trouble.”

He chuckles, and it’s deep and raspy. “I like that about her.

“She doesn’t know what’s good for her.”

His eyes dance with mischief. “I have no doubt about that.” He kisses me again. “Although, I’m sure she knows what does feel good.” He gently bites my bottom lip and stretches it out. My sex contracts at the feel of his teeth on my skin.

He pulls back and looks at me. His eyes are dark, and he licks his lips in anticipation. “My bedroom is this way, Olivia.”

He takes my hand and leads me up an expansive hall. I’m sure I’m supposed to be taking in my surroundings right now, but I can’t concentrate on anything other than the beautiful man holding my hand.

The Devil himself, leading me to his den.

My heart is beating so fast that I have to concentrate on my breathing. I don’t want it to sound like I’m running a marathon, although it totally feels like I am.

His bedroom is big, modern, and minimalistic. The walls are a dark gray, almost navy blue. The linen on the huge bed is white, and white chunky sofas surround another bluestone fireplace. The artwork on the walls is all monochrome photography. It really is something else.

“Wow. You have impeccable taste.”

He steps forward, bringing us closer. “I do.” He kisses me with such passion that I can’t keep my eyes open.

Damn this man and his magic tongue.

Our kiss turns frantic, and my hands go to his hair, while his hands go to my behind. Suddenly, he lets me have it both barrels. We slam up against the wall as we lose control. He turns me away from him and unzips my dress. It falls to the floor and I stand before him in a black strapless bra and lace panties.

His eyes drop as he drinks me in. When they rise to meet mine again, they’re blazing with fire.

He wants me. Every inch of him wants me.

I can feel it.

He undoes my bra and tosses it to the side. My large breasts fall free. He slides my panties down my legs. His chin rises, and he hisses in appreciation. His dark eyes burn holes in my skin.

“Hmm, there she is.” His voice is deep and guttural—a hushed whisper.

My sex begins to throb. “Take it off.”

He holds his hands out. “If you want me, you come and get it.”

Suddenly I’m frantic. I tear his T-shirt off over his head and I throw it. I’m met with the sight of his broad chest, scattered with dark hair, and his muscular shoulders, too. His skin is a beautiful honey shade of tan.

Oh, God, yes. Spurred on by the sight of him, I unfasten the zipper on his jeans and push then down—his boxers, too.

His stomach is washboard hard, his legs muscular and strong, and his black pubic hair is short and well-kept. His large cock hangs heavily between his legs.

Thick veins run down the engorged length of it. Rico is rock hard and ready to go. I’ve never seen anything more beautiful.

Good grief, this man is one hell of a specimen.

He stands still, his hands by his side as my eyes roam over his skin.

My chest rises and falls as I struggle for air. I place my hand on his chest, and then retract it quickly and close my fist as if he burned me.

Maybe he did.

This man is white hot. The kind you read about in romance books… the kind that breaks your heart.

“Rici.” My eyes drop lower. “You’ve become even more beautiful,” I whisper to myself. “How is this even possible?”

His eyes hold mine and if I’m not mistaken, he seems nervous. Is he waiting for my approval?

“Baby,” I whisper as I step forward. I rise up on my toes and softly kiss him. His hand curls around my waist. “Show me,” I breathe against his lips. “Show me what I’ve been missing.”

His eyes close and he moans against my lips as our kiss reaches a new level.

As if that’s the green light he’s been waiting for, his hands grab my behind with force, and he grinds his cock against my pubic bone and walks me back to the bed. His dark eyes hold mine as he lies me down and arranges me exactly how he wants me.

On my back with my legs wide open.

His hand moves to his cock, and he strokes it slowly as he looks down at me.

Pre-ejaculate drips from the end of his cock, and my back arches as I begin to lose control.

This is ridiculous. He’s hardly touched me, and I swear, I could orgasm at any moment by just watching him pull himself. His grip on his cock tightens, and he gives himself three hard jerks, and then drops his head and kisses my inner thigh with an open mouth. I buckle beneath him.

The sensation is too much.

He holds my legs open and kisses his way up to my sex.

I stare at the ceiling as I gasp for breath, my rib cage rising as my lungs search for air. Oh God.

He spreads me apart with his fingers and hisses in approval. Then his thick tongue swipes through my flesh with force.

Holy fucking fuck…

He begins to suck, his eyes closed, and I begin to shudder. Oh no.

Not this again.

He reaches up and kneads my breast. “Watch,” he commands.

I lean up onto my elbows and watch him suck and lick on my most private parts.

His eyes are dark, his tongue a perfect pink, and I watch the muscles in his jaw contract as he eats me.

I’ve died and gone to Italian Heaven.

I know now why the men I’ve been with over the last two years couldn’t get over the line with me. They were all shit—very poor substitutes for the real thing.

Nobody came close to giving me the high of Rici Ferrara. He’s a designer drug all of his own.

The best kind of high.

He bites my clitoris, and I buck off the bed as a freight train of an orgasm tears through me. I cry out in ecstasy and grab the back of his head.

Both his hands are splayed on my stomach as he holds me down, but his tongue doesn’t stop. He hasn’t finished. He wants to suck every last drop of the orgasm from my body.

My legs are quivering, and I try to close them. I’m too sensitive. “Rici,” I breathe. “Now. Give it to me… please.”

He stands, takes a condom from the drawer, and I watch as he rolls it on.

Thump, thump, thump, goes my heart as he climbs over me.

“Olivia. My beautiful Olivia.” His lips take mine and his tongue moves in a slow, erotic dance. I can taste my own arousal in his mouth.

My heart freefalls from my chest.

No. No. No.

This is wrong. This isn’t supposed to feel special. This is supposed to be brutal fucking. A getting him out of my system kind of fuck.

With his lips pressed tenderly against mine, he lifts my left leg and puts it around his waist.

“Open for me, baby.”

I do as I’m told, and in one strong movement, he pushes forward and slides in deep. My mouth falls open as his possession takes over. I exhale slowly.

“You all right?” his deep, hushed voice whispers.

“Yeah.” I close my eyes to try and deal with him—to block him out—because, hell, this man doesn’t just make love. He fucks my soul.

He pulls out slowly and then pushes back in. I wince at the size of him. What the hell kind of man is he?

He clenches his jaw. Dark eyes hold mine, and I know he’s clinging onto his control.

His breath is quivering and his tongue is sliding between my lips, begging for me to let him in fully.

What a beautiful, virile beast he is.

Sexual perfection has a name, and it’s Enrico Ferrara. The king of fucking.

With his knees wide on the bed, he pulls out again. This time with purpose, he slams back in, and I cry out.

“Ahh!”

I cling to his broad shoulders and feel the muscles contract beneath my hands.

“Shh,” he whispers, realizing he has to slow it down or he’ll hurt me. “Okay, okay. Shh,” he breathes. He gently begins to ride me, knowing that we have to work up to what he wants.

And like the perfect student, my body loosens with every pump as he holds himself up on his elbows.

“Olivia,” he whispers darkly as he watches my lips. “Fuck me, Olivia. Let me in.”

My eyes roll back in my head as I lift my legs up on either side of his body.

God, yes.

Fuck me, all right.

We keep going, gradually getting harder, and the bed begins to rock. My hands relax enough to roam over his back and up to the back of his head.

His beautiful face stares down at me, and I know that this is it. This is what sex is supposed to be like. I’m positive that when it was invented by whoever it was back then at the dawn of time, it was with this man in mind.

He lifts my leg a little higher to his shoulders and his eyes flash black. He’s on the edge of sanity.

“Go,” I pant. “Give it to me.” I put my hands onto his behind and pull him in deeper.

He lets out a guttural moan, straightens his arms, and then slams me hard. My entire body jerks up the bed, and I can feel every vein on his thick cock.

Oh shit…

The sound of our damp skin slapping together bounces off the walls, and the heat from his thrusts burns me from the inside out. I begin to thrash beneath him. I can’t hold it as I cry out. My orgasm tips him over the edge, and he holds himself deep. I feel the telling jerk of his cock deep inside my body.

He slams into me three more times—each time deeper than the last as he tries to empty himself completely.

And then he kisses me with such tenderness, and it’s so foreign to the way he just was with me.

Enrico Ferrara fucks with his body but he kisses with his whole heart.

I can feel it. Every cell in my body tells me that he is as into this as I am.

That this is something more than it’s supposed to be.

“Sei davvero fottutamente perfetta,” he whispers. Translation: you are so fucking perfect.

I don’t know what he said but it was in reverence—words of worship.

I smile up at him as he pulls out and lies over me. He carefully drops his lips to my clavicle and trails kisses up my collarbone.

“Olivia,” he murmurs against my skin.

I feel his dick reharden against my thigh, and I smile up at the ceiling as I bring my arm around his broad shoulders.

I get the feeling that the night is just beginning, and that he is nowhere near done with me.

We kiss again, and I am done.

Perfection.