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Antonio looks at me, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Did I overfeed you?”
I chuckle. “No. It’s just a nice night.”
He nods and pulls out his phone to text Davide, telling him to follow behind us with the car, then returns his phone to his pocket and takes my hand.
We start down the sidewalk with our fingers linked, and for a while I simply enjoy being beside him. There’s something peaceful about walking through the city with nowhere we need to be urgently.
“I used to take long walks with Mom when I was younger to escape Dad,” I tell him. “We stopped after she was diagnosed because she was too tired to walk.”
Antonio’s hand tightens around mine. “She’s stronger these days after switching to the infusion,” he says. “And I can always take a stroll with you.”
Something warm settles in my chest at how easily he says it. “I know,” I tell him. “Thank you.”
We continue in comfortable silence, our shoulders occasionally brushing. When we round the next corner, I see a grocery store still open and tug him toward it.
“I want to buy Cheetos.”
Antonio lets me pull him along. “You are addicted to that thing.”
“But it’s so good. You should try it,” I tell him as we walk inside. “The Flamin’ Hot one is delicious.”
He shakes his head, but follows me anyway. I head straight for the snack aisle, but when we reach the Cheetos section, there are only two bags left. “Why haven’t they restocked?” I mutter to myself before grabbing the remaining two.
Antonio stops an employee walking past us. “Do you have more Cheetos?”
The employee glances at the shelf. “Yes, but they’re in the back. How many more do you want?”
“Bring everything you have,” Antonio says.
“What? No,” I almost screech. “Just a multipack is fine.”
Antonio looks at the employee again. “How many are in a multipack?”
“Forty or fifty,” the employee replies.
“Bring ten packs. I will wait by the register,” Antonio says.
Before I can argue, he takes my hand and starts walking toward the front of the store.
“That’s too much, Antonio.”
He says nothing, just grabs a cart on the way and continues toward the registers. When the employee brings everything out, my boyfriend pays, and Davide comes inside to wheel the cart out and load the boxes into the trunk.
Antonio opens the rear door of the Aston Martin for me, keeping one hand against my lower back as he guides me inside. I slide toward the far side of the seat, and he climbs in after me before the door closes and shuts out the noise from the street.
Davide drives out of the parking lot and merges into traffic, and for the first few minutes, neither of us says much, but Antonio’s hand rests on my thigh, his thumb moving slowly along the inner seam of my trousers. The contact sends a bolt of desire through me and I reach across the space between us and kiss him.
Antonio’s hand leaves my thigh and moves to the back of my neck, pulling me closer while his mouth opens over mine. The kiss tastes faintly of wine and the desert he claimed not to want before eating half of mine. He kisses me slowly at first, but the patience disappears when I bite his lower lip and climb onto his lap, my knees settling on either side of his hips.
Antonio’s hands close around my waist and squish me directly against him, his hard cock digging into my sternum. I position myself until my cock is sitting over his and move my hips. The friction pulls a low breath from him, his head tipping back against the seat while his grip tightens.
“Pull over,” he says, his voice rougher than it was inside the restaurant.
Davide signals without asking and the car leaves the main road and enters a riverside street bordered by closed offices, trees and a stone wall.
When the car stops, Antonio does not remove his hands from me as he says, “Get out.”
Davide’s eyes meet mine in the mirror for one second, then he opens the driver’s door, steps outside, and closes it behind him.
