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Until the familiar tension builds in my groin and up my thighs.
Do I come in her?
“I’m gonna come,” I mumble.
“Stay in. I’m going to too.”
Alright then.
My cock pulses and explodes in her in four or five bursts. I feel her clench simultaneously, paired with a scream that escapes her, and she milks me for everything I’m worth. My chest drips with sweat, and I collapse next to her. Her knees sink to the bed, and I throw my arm around her shoulders to hold her to my side. She rolls over onto her back, and I shift to half-lie on her, balancing my weight, while my lips find her pillowy lips in the dark.
“What’s Tilly short for?” I whisper when our lips part. I already know the answer from researching her when we first met, but we’ve never talked about it.
She laughs and covers her face with her hand. “Ugh, don’t laugh.” She sighs. “Matilda. My mom loved the movie.”
“It’s pretty. Just like you.”
“Funny we both go by shortened versions of our names, Vincenzo.”
“Fuck,” I laugh. “I couldn’t really go by VJ for Vincenzo Junior, could I?” I tease her, and Tilly bursts out laughing and pulls me back to her. My heart might race, but my mind is finally at ease.
We’re calm—in a way that doesn’t feel temporary—and happy.
Chapter Eighteen
Tilly
I convince Enzo to check out a new club that recently opened. Napa has plenty of bars and lounges, so I was surprised to see a club advertised. And he’s such a hermit. It’s mind-boggling how he found me at that damn bar when he doesn’t go out. But it was one of those fateful things. I can understand why he’s a homebody, given he’s at the vineyard five to six days a week, but he’s spending less time there on the weekends because of me.
This week was his first week back at work after withdrawal, and he was tired throughout the week. His body is still getting used to being on its own, and I only spent Tuesday and Friday nights with him.
Since it’s a summer Saturday night, I told him we needed to get out and make memories.
What better way?
Maybe the club environment isn’t the best call while he’s maintaining drug sobriety, but he’s not the type to relapse and do something reckless in a club anyway. He has a reputation to uphold, and part of me doubts hard drugs would be present in a club in Napa. I could be naïve, but I guess we’ll find out.
“What should I wear?” Enzo asks me, standing in tight-fitting briefs in his walk-in closet. I roll my eyes at him but don’t dwell on his bulge.
“Something sleek,” I call out, setting my dress on his bed.
My dress is a champagne metallic color and has one shoulder. It’s a mini length—slightly too short for my tall frame and barely covers my ass, so I hope Enzo won’t throw a fit about that either.
“What does that even mean?” he asks with a touch of exasperation. I strip down to a thong, and he turns his head to scan my body. He blinks at me. “Hello.”
“Don’t get worked up. We need to go soon.” I slide the satin up my thighs and slip my arm through the single strap. “Zip me?”
“Only if you promise I get to unzip you later,” he says as he steps out of his closet.
I smirk to myself. “I have to get out of it somehow,” I say, sweeping my straightened hair over my shoulder. The dress tightens around my torso as he pulls the zipper up. “Alright, your turn. Black dress shirt, black slacks?”
Enzo smiles as if I spoke his language. “That’s more than doable.”
“Good.” I look into his dark eyes. “Figure it out. And wear that sexy cologne, too,” I add, biting my lip.
I sit on the velvety bench in front of his bed while I watch him pull trousers up his strong legs. He leaves them unbuttoned as he pulls on a long-sleeved black dress shirt and buttons it.
“Is this what you had in mind?” he asks, walking out of the closet and fiddling with his cuffs.
