Elsa
He bends down, slides his arms under my shoulders, and lifts me. He kisses me on the lips, stepping toward the steaming Jacuzzi built into the terrace. Stepping inside, he sits me down astride himself. With his eyes looking deep into mine, me brushes his lips against the skin of my face and neck, until he reaches my breasts. He softly sucks and bites my nipple, while his hands tighten on my buttocks. Suddenly his finger slide to a place that I haven’t really felt appropriate if we are to make love. I stiffen.
“Don’t be afraid, cara mia. Do you trust me?” he asks, letting go of my erect nipple.
I nod, and his finger starts to gently rub the spot between my buttocks. Marcello lifts me and steadily but carefully impales me on his phallus. I moan, throwing my head back. The hot water intensifies my every sensation. Marcello’s movements are steady and delicate at the same time. He is passionate, greedy, but also tender.
“Don’t be afraid of me,” he says, sliding the tip of his finger into my anus.
I let out a loud moan of delight, which he immediately stifles with his tongue. He is impaling me harder and harder. The water sloshes against the walls of the Jacuzzi to the rhythm of his stroking hips, and a different wave-a wave of ecstasy like I haven’t known before-rises inside me. Everything around me grows as if damped and subdued. I focus entirely on Marcello. With his free hand, he reaches under the water and gently rubs my clitoris. It iss like pushing a red button deep inside me. The finger exploring my anus slide deeper and speed up its motion.
“One more,” I whisper, keeping the orgasm at bay with difficulty. “Slide another finger into me.”
That nearly causes him to lose control. He pushes deeper inside my mouth with his tongue, and his teeth bite on my lip harder, causing a pang of beautiful pain.
“Elsa,” he breathes, obeying. “You’re so tight.”
Without thinking if I should, if I am allowed, I simply come as he says that. With a gasp and then a cry I reach the climax of pleasure. My entire body flushed and cools down in a few seconds.
Marcello waits until I am calm again and carries me to the bed. I am only semiconscious when he presses his body to mine and enters me again. He snuggles his face in my hair, and his hips rush at me, hard. I can feel he is about to come, too. I writhe and moan, my nails biting into the skin of his back. My kisses on his neck are greedy, and I bite his shoulders, listening to his breathing-growing faster and faster, heralding an explosion. He pushes both hands beneath my back and hugs me so tightly I can barely breathe. His hand clutches at the back of my neck, and he looks me in the eyes.
“Dio! You feel so good,” Marcello says, and I feel a wave of hot seed spilling inside me. His bliss is intense and lasts for a long while. His eyes never wavers from my face the entire time. It is so sensual and sexy that I feel my own muscles tightening with his, and I join him. Finally, Marcello collapses on me, his body taking away my breath.
“You’re heavy,” I say, trying to slide from beneath him. “And your cock is perfection.”
Marcello bursts out laughing and rolls over, freeing me.
“I’ll take it as a compliment, dolcezza.”
“I need to wash myself,” I say, trying to get up.
He pulls me toward himself.
“I can’t agree to that.” He reaches out with a hand and takes a box of tissues from the night table.
He gently wipes me clean before covering me with the duvet.
We lay in bed, talking, until the sun came up. He tells me how it felt growing up in his fathers footsteps, and about his uncles. About the beauty of an exploding Etna and about his favorite dishes. We ordered breakfast and watched as a new day began, never leaving bed.
“Which one is it today?” he asks, sitting up.
I frown, looking at him without understanding. “What are you asking?” I wrap myself in the duvet. “The day? It’s monday.”
“Which day? Since I got you?” he asks again, and it dawns on me what his question really means.
I try counting in my head, but the events of last night make it seem like something so irrelevant.
“I don’t know. I stopped counting,” I say, sipping my tea.
Marcello gets up and goes to the terrace railing, propping his hands on it. I roll to the side and observed him. His buttocks are beautifully toned, small and shapely. His lean legs make his back and shoulders look even wider than they really were.
“Would you like me to set you free?” he asks, his eyes locking on me. I can see the tension in his face. “I’m taking a great risk now, but I just can’t really enjoy your presence when I know I’m making you unhappy. So if you’d like to leave, I can get you home in Palermo, today.”
I looked at him with disbelief, filled with joy. When a wide smile appears on my face, Marcello’s face grows cold, and his stare becomes impassive. He says.
I sit up, happy and afraid at the same time, looking out to the sea. I can go back! I hear the door to the apartment slam shut. Holding the duvet to my chest, I jump to my feet and ran inside. Marcello is nowhere to be seen. I peek outside to the corridor, but it is empty. I go back inside and drop to the floor, my back sliding down the wall. All the events of last night flash
before my eyes like a frantic movie-the love we made to each other, the fooling around, the talking until the crack of dawn. My eyes water-I feel like I have lost something.
My heart aches. I can feel its beat. Is it possible I have fallen in love with Marcello?
I head back to the terrace and picked up my dress. It is so crumpled I can not possibly wear it. I run to the bedroom and quickly call reception and ask to be connected with Gabrielle’s room. Amazingly, the receptionist knows who he is. My hands are shaking. I can’t catch my breath. When the young assistant picks up, I am already crying. I say, “Please, come to me.” Then I fall to the bed.