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“She’ll make a small incision in your abdomen and take a look inside with a tiny camera.”
“When does she want me to do it?”
“I have an opening next week, Monday. At 10:00 a.m., if that works for you?”
“How long does it take, and can I go to work after?”
“The procedure should only take 30–45 minutes. While it is an outpatient surgery, you need to relax after the procedure is complete and should take at least two or three days to recover from it. You’ll also need someone to drive you because you’ll be given general anesthesia.” I ask Katie a few more questions about the procedure, which she answers and finishes giving me instructions to prepare for the surgery.
I hang up, sit at the kitchen counter, and think about the news I just received. The doctor is concerned enough that she wants to insert a camera inside of me to see what’s going on. Those nerves at the bottom of my belly twist and my gut reminds me that something is wrong. I exhale a long breath of both frustration and concern.
I grab my phone again and dial my mother to ask her to take me to the surgery next week and if I can stay with my parents for a few days. I tell her that since I live on the fourth floor and there is no elevator, I need to stay at her house. Fuck, I better start taking notes of all these stories I’m telling.
It’s a rare night that both Massimo and I are home for dinner. He’s making his mother’s sauce, meatballs, and linguini, and I’m making a salad. I love when he cooks—he’s very good at it, and he enjoys doing it.
We both love cooking, yet both prepare different dishes, him Italian and me Latino. Massimo is definitely the better cook between the two of us. The days we’re home together, we like to spend time in the kitchen experimenting with different foods. While one prepares the meal, the other helps, or prepares drinks.
After tuning the radio to Magic 106.7, I remove a bottle of wine from the rack and begin cutting the capsule open. It’s a smooth, even-bodied wine and is one of our favorites, which Massimo sells at the restaurant. We brought home several bottles to add to our collection.
“My mother got her MRI results back. They’re normal. But the doctor is having her go in next week for a laparoscopy to check things out.” I push the corkscrew into the cork and twist it, pull it out, and rest the bottle on the counter while I get two wine glasses from the cabinet to my left.
“What’s that?” His back is to me, and he’s stirring the sauce, adding seasoning to it.
I pour myself a taste of the wine, swirl it to lift the aromas to smell the bouquet better, sip to let the flavors absorb on my palette, and pour us each a glass.
“The doctor will take a look inside with a tiny camera. Have a better idea of what’s going on. I’ll take her since my dad works and stay with her for a couple of days while she recoups.” I smell the wine again before sipping it. “I love this wine. I can’t get enough of it.” I hand Massimo his.
“Salute.” We clink our glasses.
“I love you, Mrs. D.” He brushes his lips to mine, swiping his tongue across my lips to pry them open.
“Staking your claim before it’s time, are you?”
“Our wedding date just makes it official. You’re already mine.” He deepens his kiss, placing one of his hands on my back so I can feel the arousal beneath his jeans. He puts his wine glass on the counter and takes mine out of my hand, placing it next to his.
Massimo lifts me up and onto the island. He’s hungry for me. His fingers press into my rounded hips. “I want to fuck you,” he murmurs while kissing me.
“I still have my period,” I say, placing my hands on his chest and nudging him back from me.
“I don’t care. I need to be buried inside of you.”
“You know I’m not into that.” I jump down from the counter, dropping to my knees before him—my eyes level with his waist. I peek up at him while my hands work at unbuckling his belt. When I manage to open it, I pop the button open and pull the zipper down—his jeans swiftly falling to the floor. Massimo wears tighty-whities; they hug his lean, flat hips, accentuating his V and trail of dark hair running from his chest down and hiding behind his briefs.
I rise up on my knees and lick around his belly button. Massimo threads his hands in my hair, tangling his fingers in my curls. My tongue licks down the trail of hair, and when I reach the top of his briefs, I bite the elastic to pull it down. My hands tug at them until his beautiful erection is before me, glistening. The thick vein on its underside is prominent. My mouth is watering to take him in.
“Is this what you want?” I ask, grasping his length with one hand while licking and swirling my tongue, my eyes never leaving his.
Massimo grips my hair, his head dropping back. “Fuck yes.”
My mouth opens, taking him in, and I hear him grunt. He’s moist, his unique scent mixed with the saltiness of his arousal. I adjust myself to take him further in, covering his length until I feel him rub the back of my throat. I flick my tongue up to tickle him, begin slowly pulling my mouth back until reaching his crown, then slide back down.
“I love fucking your mouth while you’re wearing lipstick.”
I peek up at him. His eyes are dark and hooded, lust flaring. My mouth continues to glide up and down his shaft, sucking my cheeks in for him to feel the pressure of them, his hands guiding me.
I remove him from my mouth, my hands holding his length. “I want to drink all of you.” Wrapping my lips around him, I scrape my teeth slowly down his shaft until he’s fully seated in my mouth, and Massimo yells in pleasure. My lips cover my teeth, gently soothing his iron length as I glide it out. I hear Massimo groan, and he begins to rock his hips, taking control of the movements, which means his arousal is building, his release on the cusp of exploding.
He increases his speed, tangling his fingers further in my hair, tugging at it until he grunts. “Lena, I’m gonna come.” I move my hands to his firm glutes and push him toward me until he lets go, emptying himself, his cream filling my mouth. When I feel Massimo’s legs relax and his hands loosen in my hair, I pull back and look up at him, licking my lips from satisfaction.
