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I press light kisses across his chest, and he drags my face to his to take his fill. His tongue wraps around mine and I taste my own desire on his breath and words are not required, as our bodies do the talking for us.
Despite still being inside me, I sense his cock hardening and blink in disbelief as he swells inside my tight pussy. He bites my lower lip, causing my stomach to flutter and as he drags his finger through my own orgasm; he pushes it inside my mouth which I suck, loving how erotic this is. Then his dark eyes flash as he holds my wrists above my head and growls, “Now for the main course.”
My body comes alive as he rocks gently inside me, the earlier frantic moves a sweet memory. This time Alessandro makes love to me. With care, gentleness, and love in his heart. Gentle touches replace rough ones. Soft kisses caress the storm of before. Light fingers trace a path across my heart and whispered words of love bind me to him forever. This is love at its most powerful. Two people together at last pledging their souls for eternity and forging a path through the barriers with one common aim. Love.
The second orgasm is just as sweet as the first. Softer, longer and like a leisurely end to the perfect day. This time we float back to earth on a cloud of love, not lust, and I wouldn’t be able to say which one I prefer. As long as it’s with him, it’s all good and despite the circumstances that brought me here, I wouldn’t change a thing. I belong in this position, and he belongs with me. There was always something so compelling about Alessandro Majerio and I doubt that will ever change.
Day turns to night, and we remain as close as two people can be. In the moments when we aren’t exploring each other’s bodies, we explore our minds instead. So much to catch up on and so much to say, and I am greedy for every detail of what happened since we were all together last. As he talks of the special time at Rockwell, the memories gradually return. While he speaks, I remember, and it becomes an exciting game. Somehow my memory is returning, albeit slowly and only when prompted by happy memories of the past. I love listening to him talk with his husky voice, the Italian accent caressing his words. He can’t seem to bear it if one part of his body isn’t touching mine and I’m the same.
Our need for food makes us reluctantly shower and dress, and I’m a little worried about the reception we may get. I’m guessing the guests have long departed and as I take Alessandro’s hand, I wonder where the next metaphorical blow will come from.
We head into a kitchen that is silent and empty and I breathe a sigh of relief as Alessandro heads to the cupboard and starts pulling out ingredients.
“What are you doing?”
I’m surprised to find he appears to know his way around the kitchen, and he grins. “Pasta, of course.”
“I didn’t know you could cook.”
“I’m Italian, baby, of course I can cook.”
He drops me a wink, making me giggle, and as he begins to prepare the food, I make my way to his side.
“Can I help?”
He raises his eyes. “I don’t know, can you?”
“With direction—possibly.”
He nods and tucks a stray strand of hair behind my ear and whispers, “First you can pour us some wine, then you chop tomatoes. Lots of tomatoes.”
He winks and turns back to his job in hand, and I’m light spirited as I search for two glasses and a bottle of red.
It’s so good to be doing something normal for once. I’m struggling to remember anything at all, but I’m guessing cooking isn’t one of my skills if I’m honest. We were brought up with chef’s, maids and people who carried out the domestic chores and I expect it was the same and still is for him However, Alessandro is obviously a master chef because the air is soon filled with the aroma of bacon, onions and lots and lots of tomatoes.
It doesn’t take long, and we are soon sitting hunched together on the terrace outside, spoon feeding one another penne pasta and loving every minute of it. We talk in between mouthfuls of anything and everything just to make this magical night last as long as possible and I love the happiness that gleams in his eyes as he stares into mine.
The bottle of wine is soon empty and as my eyes start to drop, Alessandro wraps his arms around me, my head resting on his shoulder as we gaze up at the stars.
He whispers, “I used to look at these stars and wonder if you were watching them too.”
“You did?”
I’m a little shocked at that because this man doesn’t seem the type for sentiment.
“I hoped you were thinking about me as much as I was you. I tried not to imagine you with him.”
“I’m not surprised.” I make light of it, but a shiver passes through me when I think about the wasted shell of a human being not far away and I say sadly, “Part of me never wants to remember the past two years but there’s a huge part of me that’s telling me I must.”
“Why?”
“Closure perhaps.”
I sigh and stare up at the brightest star, and once again it’s as if an important part is missing. It surprises me because it appears that life has worked out just fine in the end, but something deep inside me is telling me there is something essential I need from my past.
Alessandro also appears preoccupied, and I don’t want to ruin this perfect day by dragging up the past, but I need to concentrate on healing my mind because until that happens, I can never truly be happy.
* * *
