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His hand closed around my neck. As if in confirmation, I placed my hand over his, meeting each thrust resiliently, legs closed and ass pressed against his stomach.
His moans became more profound, his movements more frantic. More demanding. Harder. Tighter and tighter, he gripped, rougher and rougher he thrust into me. I moaned his name, the only thing I could do because I could no longer breathe.
With his free hand, he encircled my breast, played with the nipple, and pulled on it… sending me over the cliff so unexpectedly hard that I came wincing and gasping, a laugh on my lips as I realized that his restraint had failed and he had also made himself come through my orgasm.
I felt him between my legs, his weight on me, and his irregular breathing and fast heartbeat against me.
Part of me firmly believed that it was over. But Vincenzo sank back onto the mattress, reached out, and pulled me to his side as if we had done this a hundred times before. As if it were normal. As if the wine hadn't played a role.
Hesitantly, I rested my head on his shoulder, listening to his still rapid heartbeat, trying not to ruin the moment.
After a while, he turned on his side and buried his head between my neck and shoulder, one arm loosely draped over my body. It was immediately apparent he had sunk into the sleep I was waiting for in vain.
Still, it hit me when I heard him barely audibly muttering a name. Not mine. But that of his deceased wife.
13
Vincenzo
From my first waking moment, I knew I had made a mistake. A big mistake. It was not the headache that throbbed behind my temples nor the unbearable heat in the small hut. The alcohol had nothing to do with it. But the woman on whose chest my head rested had a lot to do with it. Who had her arm wrapped around my shoulders. Whose sensual scent settled in my nose and now scolded me a fool because it was undoubtedly not Rina who lay under me, but Dea, who still slept peacefully.
Last night she had given me hell for it. And all because she had pressed her sweet, firm ass into my loins and torn my patience into little snippets.
I hated myself for the satisfaction in my chest and for feeling reasonably comfortable, even though we were both sweaty against each other and my mouth was bone dry. However, I had made a mistake.
How did I get out of this without it getting weird? Without offending her – after all, I could have ended it at any time. Instead, I had enjoyed it and completely lost myself in how good it felt to feel her body around my cock and know that I alone was eliciting all those glorious sounds from her.
How she had reacted to my rough touches. How she…merda.This was the third unplanned erection since I had known her. Gradually it became annoying.
Carefully, I lifted my head and put some distance between us. Where had I thrown my damn clothes?
It had happened. And I remembered every second of it vividly.Merda. My body related to the memory of it very well, too. My cock twitched as I thought about fucking her mouth and again as I mentally moved to the feeling that had spread through me like a forest fire when I had finally penetrated her.
Merda. She was so willing. So compliant. So careful not to make a mistake that would cause me to call it all off. That damn bitch knew full well that I was haunted by my wife's ghost and had done everything she could to get around it. Like a witch who had unsuspectingly wrapped me around her finger.
Maybe I should go fromraggio di soleto calling hermagaorstrega. Strega malvagiawas even more appropriate when I revisited the night with her.
Dea had crept under my protective armor without me noticing. I had, mistakenly, believed to have the situation and her under control. Nothing happened without my knowledge.
How stupid I had been, I realized now as I sat next to her on the mattress and let my gaze wander over her body. Over her hair and her face. When she slept, she seemed so angelic. Over her perfect breasts, the curves and the flat belly that merged into her hips and ended with this fucking magical place that still attracted me and wanted to persuade me to push her legs apart, lie down between them and wake her up from sleep with my tongue.
Where was a firearm when you needed it? A bullet in my brain would have been more merciful than sitting next to Dea, staring at her and losing myself in wild daydreams I could never make come true.
Or could I?
No.
I could not.
I finally tore myself away from my thoughts, gathered my clothes, and carefully lifted myself from the mezzanine into the cabin. Outside I got dressed, ignoring that I could still feel the memory of last night on my, still damn hard, cock and stared bitterly into the morning sun.
Could she find her way back alone? I hoped so because before I spent a second longer in her presence, which made me forget my principles, I longed for distance.
What had I gotten myself into?
During the descent, I checked my phone for new messages, hoping that someone needed me in Naples or somewhere else as long as I wasn't stuck in Tramonti, but nothing.
I took out my briefly flaring anger at myself on a vine that could do absolutely nothing about it but, in the end, lay uselessly on the ground and would certainly not bear any grapes in the future.
