He quickly glanced behind me to where Aurelia stood behind my shoulder. “And your friend?” He waggled his eyebrows.
I smirked. “We’re going to share.”
“Ooh ...” He turned back to the boys. “They’re gonna share a sandwich. Isn’t that cute?”
I pulled out my wallet to grab my credit card.
“No, no, no.” He waved the card away. “You know better than that, Constantine.”
“Come on, you never let me pay.”
“Your family never charges us when we stop by Rosticceria Da Cristina.”
“But I don’t work there or own it.”
He continued to wave the card away like it was bewitched with a curse. “Con, your money is no good here. Stop it.”
I sighed before I returned the card to my wallet. A couple minutes later, I took the sandwich, and Aurelia and I walked away from the crowd. There was an empty park bench farther down the curve of the road, so I took a seat and held out the sandwich so she could have the first bite.
“What have we got here?” she asked, taking the sandwich with both hands.
“Pistachio mortadella, stracciatella, pistachio pesto ...”
She eyed the sandwich and tried to figure out her plan of attack before she went for the corner and took a small bite, missing pretty much all the good stuff.
“You can do better than that.”
She took another bite, getting the meat and the cheese, and covered her mouth as she chewed. She nodded as she experienced the flavors.
I held the sandwich with a single hand and took a massive bite out of it.
When she finally finished her bite, she lowered her hand. “Damn, that’s good.”
We shared the sandwich back and forth, each taking a bite until there was nothing left but crumbs on the waxed paper.
“So you really know everyone around here.” She sat with her legs crossed, the slit in her long dress exposing her beautiful tanned skin, the definition in her thighs and calves apparent.
“Yep.” For better or worse.
“That’s cute.” She studied the street again, looking like a subject that belonged in front of the lens of her camera. “Anything else on our list?”
“You haven’t experienced Taormina until you’ve had a cannoli.”
“I actually had one when we first got here.”
Weas in her and Alex? Orweas in her and someone else? “But have you been to La Pignolata?”
“No, never heard of it.”
“Then you haven’t had a cannoli. Come on.” I left the bench and tossed the waxed paper and napkins in the garbage.
“Wow, this is one hell of a tour. I’ll have to leave you a nice tip.” When we returned to the street, she gently came into my side, giving me a playful bump as she smiled.
I didn’t bump her back, not when the slightest touch from my size could make her trip and fall. Instead, I moved my hand to her ass and squeezed it before I gave it a playful smack. “That’s what I’m talking about.”
I sat across from her outside the small café, watching her eat a massive cannoli with cream spilling out on either side of the opening. And of course, all I could think about was sticking my dick in her mouth.
Her dress was low cut in the front and showed the slight swell of her tits, and when she took a bite, a piece of the shell broke off with the cream and landed right on the exposed skin of her left tit.
