“Now I know how to get you to stop talking,” I say, staring at her silent, half-open mouth.
She turns to her left side and kisses me, then straddles me. “You know,” she whispers into my mouth. “I’ve always wondered if Pompilia is as good as she says she is.”
“Do you want me to tell you?” I ask, cocking my eyebrow.
“Is she?”
“Why would you care?”
“Because now,” she continues, moving down to my pelvis, “I want to get you to stop talking.”
She takes off my boxers, relieving my erection of the forced compression it’s been enduring, at least until the first contact with her soft, warm mouth, which sends a shock straight to my brain.
She lowers her head and when she raises it she gives me a fiery look that seems to sayI’m going to kill you,and I want to replyI’d be happy to die like this.
Elisa accompanies the up-and-down motion of her mouth with her hands, and I find myself clutching the sheets so as not to abandon myself completely; otherwise I’d come in no time. I’ve never had a timing problem, but tonight I’ve been on the verge of orgasm from the moment she took off her dress.
On the third swirl of her tongue, I find myself forced to stop her. She has nothing to learn from Pompilia—on the contrary. “If you keep this up, you’ll make me very happy, very quickly, but I don’t want to rush tonight.”
I lift her up and kiss her, our mouths tasting of tart and sex, our hands trembling with desire.
“I bought condoms,” she tells me.
I reach for the bedside drawer and open it. “Well done, because I don’t think this will be enough.”
“The variety pack you got in Belvedere!” she exclaims, surprised and amused. “You kept it.”
“I wanted a souvenir, but a Duomo magnet seemed too obvious.”
“You haven’t opened it,” she observes, indicating the sealed package.
“Should I have?”
She shakes her head, looking down. “Well ... it’s been a while ...”
“Elisa,” I say, grabbing her chin so she can look me in the eyes. “Who was I supposed to use them with? I didn’t want, I don’t want, and I won’t want anyone but you. I don’t want to fuck. I want to make love, because you are neither my first nor my last. You are my only one.”
“But I’ve never made love, Michael. I don’t know if I’m capable.”
“Me neither.” I lean over her and kiss her, but not out of passion or desire. This kiss is an oath. “It’s our first time; we’ll learn together.”
“I missed you.”
“I missed you too.”
“I want to be yours. Make me feel like yours.”
“You already are mine. You always have been.”
Our words get lost between one kiss and another, but we understand each other anyway and lose ourselves to the point that we almost forget the condoms.
Elisa is quick to grab one at random and slip it on me.
“I hope you got the extended pleasure ones,” I joke.
“Hmmm ... judging by the smell, I’d say it’s the mango.”
She sits on me and guides me inside of her with her hand, welcoming me with a squeeze, an internal, intimate embrace, and it almost doesn’t seem real that it’s actually happening.
