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I thought Alessandro Romano was the devil, but I might actually be in paradise. Alex gently wipes my inner thighs witha warm washcloth, all the while softly pushing away the tendrils of my hair sticking to my forehead, giving me soft pecks and whispering sweet nothings to me. Is this the same man who broke Jimmy’s fingers and essentially threatened him? Alex Romano is an absolute mystery.
When he’s done cleaning me, Alex gathers me in his arms and pulls the blankets on us, fucking spooning me. I’m starting to doze off when his first question comes.
“What’s your last name,cara?”
I muster the strength to let out a short laugh.
“Now, you’re asking for my name?” Alex chuckles, his warm breath caressing my nape. “Gomis,” I finally respond.
“Emma Gomis,” he repeats, saying my name like it’s a magical formula, or a prayer… “And what do you do for a living, Ms Gomis?”
I can’t help but laugh again at this completely backwards conversation.
“I’m a hotel hospitality manager, Mr Romano.”
He hums, at the same time running the tip of his aquiline nose over my sensitive skin, before leaning closer to nip at my shoulder. I let out an audible sigh of pleasure and push my bare ass into his semi-erect cock.Holly shit. My pussy spasms, my clit tingles, and I run an inner check, wondering if I have it in me to experience another orgasm.
Alex’s soft, rumbly laughter vibrates against my back.
“babe, I can hear the wheels turn in your brain. I’m fucking wiped. Give me a break, then we’ll eat and drink something. Then I’ll fuck you again, yeah?”
I roll my eyes at the humor in his voice, snuggle deeper into his chest, and close my eyes, letting my body relax into a comforting rest.
* * *
I wake up a few hours later, alone in Alex’s immense bed. I let my eyes roam around the spacious room.Fuck, my fancy apartment at Fitzpatrick Place could fit in this room. I guess clandestine gambling and other unlawful activities must pay well.
I’m starting to feel self-conscious, and asking myself what the hell I’m doing in the bed of a man I just met a few hours ago, wondering if I have time to get dressed and sneak out before he returns, when the bedroom door opens and Alex walks in with a tray heavily loaded with fruits, cheese, crackers, baguette, and water.Fine, I can stay a bit longer.
We eat, talk, exchange tender gazes, soft kisses, and more heated caresses. I tell Alex about my early life, growing up in West Africa. How I came to college in Texas, then ended up finding a job and establishing myself in Bourbon.
“I love it, here. It’s just big enough to suit a city girl like me, but there are all these small communities. Like the apartment complex where I live. The owner is a funny, eccentric older lady. She’s a hoot, and we all get along really well.”
He listens attentively, asks questions, and shares his own life story. How he lived in Italy till the age of seven because his father wanted him to speak the language fluently and know his family, their culture. How his parents passed away, just a couple of years after he returned to the States. The idea of a solemn, dark-haired boy crosses my mind, and my heart breaks into a million tiny pieces. Alex catches a tear at the corner of my mouth with the pad of a gentle finger. He presses a hard kiss to my lips.
“Don’t cry,cara. I’m here, now. I’m good. I miss them, but they’re always in my heart.”
He raises his left arm and shows me the words tattooed on the underside, ‘I carry you with me, I carry you in my heart.’ A quote from the poem by E.E. Cummings. One of my favorite. Now, I’m full-on crying. Alex holds me tight against his chest and whispers comforting words in my ear. He’s speaking in Italian, so I have no clue what he’s saying. Just that his voice is charged with tenderness, soothing.
Then he tells me about his father’s best friend. The ‘uncle’ who initiated him to the life. The man who took him under his wing taught him the ropes, and is his father figure.
I don’t ask about his business and what else he may be involved in beside the gambling joints. I just enjoy him, us. The feel of his big body, the taste and scent of him, the rumble of his low voice, the way we perfectly fit. Our conversation and laughter.
We fuck again, then we make love, then something else that’s maybe a blend of both. I feel closer to Alex than I’ve ever with any partner, boyfriend, or man I’ve had feelings for. It’s at the same time exalting and scary. Having this dangerous, extraordinary man open to me, confide in me, give me not only his body, but so much more. His mind, and dare I say it? His heart…
I fall asleep in an absolute state of abandon and bliss. Feeling safe and cared for in the strong arms of my Italian stallion.
* * *
The next time I wake up, it’s very early morning. The first rays of sunshine barely piercing through the room’s sheer curtains. Alex lays on his stomach, his broad back bare, the covers bunched up low on his waist. The swell of a muscled ass peaking from the thick, white comforter. I stare in fascination at the multiple of tattoos covering his back and sides. I wish I had time to explore every single one of them and listen as he tells me their story in his deep voice. Wish I could stay, wake up by his side, start a new day with this extraordinary man. An entire life. I wish things were different. Wish we were different. But in the cold light of day, my hopes and illusions from the night dissipate into smoke. This man is rich and dangerous. Yes, he fucked me senseless, and we shared an amazing night, had a true human connection. But, come on. What will he want to do with an ordinary woman like me? I’d never fit in his life or him in mine. And I’m definitely getting ahead of myself. Alex Romano has no lasting interest in someone like me. I squeeze my eyes shut, pushing away the knot in my chest, the sting in my eyes, the ball of pain in my throat.Get yourself together, Emma. You spent an unbelievable night. Cherish its memory and count your blessings.
I get out of the bed as discreetly as I can, gather my clothes, shoes, and clutch, and sneak out of the room on the tips of my toes, intent on getting dressed in the hallway and snooping out of this mansion.
* * *
When the ride-share I ordered a good fifteen minutes-walk from Alex’s house drops me off at Fitzpatrick Place, I’m beat and defeated. I’m sliding my magnetic card over the electronic reader when I hear a voice call behind me.
“Hey girl.”
