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“What happened to your hands?” She gasps, her eyes now wide as they take in my blood-stained sleeves and my bruised and beaten knuckles.
“Just some business I had to take care of,” I reply, waiting for the moment she runs into the bathroom and locks the door in fear.
“Business?” she questions, before jumping out of the bed and walking over to me. She steps so softly on the carpet, her movement can’t be heard. But I can’t say I am focused on her steps but rather her legs, her pale bare skin looks like porcelain under the glow of the lamp, and with her wearing nothing but my shirt, she looks like every man’s wet dream.
Stopping in front of the armchair, she picks up my large hand in her two small ones and lifts it closer to her face to inspect it.
She drops my hand gently and turns, going into the bathroom, and I watch her ass as she goes. Licking my lips, my cock hardens, and I wait for her to come back, wondering what she is doing. Less than a minute later, she comes back out with a damp cloth, a towel, and the arnica cream that we left for her bruises. Maria told me they were due to her falling over on the tiles in the bathroom, but that’s something else I need to get to the bottom of.
“Are you playing nurse again?” I ask, looking up at her small frame as she once again stands in front of me, placing the towel under my hand and dabbing my knuckles with the damp cloth.
“Somebody has to look after you,” she mumbles, and I grit my teeth to bite back the smile that threatens to break my steely gaze. “Besides, you have taken care of me since I have been here. I thought I could return the favor.” She nibbles on her lip in concentration, and I ache to suck on it.
“Thank you for getting my things…” I nod in acknowledgement.
“He looks like you, you know,” she says with a small smile appearing on her face, and I want more of it. Her small lips curve upwards, and she gets a small dimple on one side that makes it difficult for me to sit still with the growing bulge in my pants. Her happiness is starting to turn me on more than her body.
“Who?” I retort as I come back to myself, my eyes narrowing as there’s only one person she could be speaking about.
“The little boy who likes Legos,” she replies easily. Now she has my full attention. It appears Little Red has met my son.
I lean back in the chair at that, not as concerned with that fact as I thought I would be. I’m also truly enjoying her touch and the way her bare legs graze mine as she repositions herself to wipe my other hand. The fact that there is someone who wants to look after me is unusual. Aside from Maria, I haven’t had a woman look after me since my mother died when I was young. It is not something I thought I would have missed until now.
“Leo. He is my son.” As the words leave my mouth, her eyes meet mine.
“He is amazing. You must be very proud,” she says with a smile that takes up her whole face, her face genuinely lighting up at the thought of him.
I sit shocked for a moment, because yes, he is amazing, and yes, I am very proud of him, but for a boy who doesn’t socialize, I wonder how much time she spent with him today. I should be worried about having a strange woman in my house around my kid, but I’m not. If it was anyone else, I would already have thrown them out.
Yawning, she answers my thoughts.
“We spent all day playing with Legos. I don’t think I have talked as much as I did today in all my life. My throat is sore.” She rubs her throat, and I clench my hand at the gesture, thinking about how pretty her neck would look in my hands. I really have to get ahold of myself.
Happy with the cleaning, she grabs the arnica cream and begins to rub it into my knuckles, so softly I can barely feel her touch.
“What is your name?” she whispers, her attention staying on my injuries.
“Dante,” I reply without hesitation, and she smiles in approval.
“How long will I be here, Dante?” she asks again, and I like the sound of my name from her lips. Her twang makes it sound like it’s a name just for her to speak.
“Until it is safe enough for you to leave.” I repeat what I’ve already told her, and as her eyes flick to mine, she nods in understanding. Her obedience does something to my insides, and I grit my teeth so hard that I am sure she can hear me grinding them.
She moves her body slightly to grab more arnica cream and her bare legs hit my fingers. I take advantage of the closeness and lift my finger, trailing her thigh slightly, feeling her soft skin, my cock now painfully awake. I hear her intake a breath and my eyes flick to hers as I make a small pattern against her skin. God, she is soft, delicate, small, yet is not begging me to let her go, crying for her friends or family, or screaming in horror at what she has seen. I watch her, completely fascinated by her, as she continues with the cream, not acting offended by my touch. The only change in her demeanor is the quickening of her breath and the slight blush to her cheeks. I should stop. But I can’t.
“There,” she says, breaking me out of my lust-filled trance. I look down at my hand, which although is still red and raw, looks much healthier than when I first walked into the room. She takes the cream and the towels to the bathroom and then walks back into the bedroom and slips into bed. Good move, Little Red. Keep your distance.
“Goodnight, Dante…” she says as she closes her eyes, my name on her lips the sweetest sound in the quiet of the night.
“Goodnight, Little Red,” I reply, but I don’t think she hears me as she quickly gets lost in slumber again.
I sit sipping my whiskey for the next few hours, only leaving when the sun threatens to peek through the windows to start a new day.
10
Annie
My body is weary after a day of building spaceships with Leo and watching Maria cook her traditional Sicilian meals. My mind too is a whirlwind as I continue to quietly practice the few Italian words Maria mentioned to me today. But although I am exhausted, I am currently sitting up in bed, engrossed in a book I chose from Dante’s library earlier this morning. I spent hours looking over the selection, then grabbed a few on childhood development. Clearly, he has them for his son, and I have tagged a few pages in them I want to revisit tomorrow. Now, I am cozy in the delicate soft linens as I read all about Sicily, which I’ve learned is a small island in Southern Italy, and by the look of the photos in this book, it is the most stunning place I have ever seen.
