The rosy peaks are impossibly stiff. I massage her breast for a moment, then twist her nipple between two fingers. The effect is instant. Violetta's hips buck, pushing her delicious pussy hard against my face. Her body trembles and she screams my name.
As myvolpina'slegs give out, I catch her and carefully lower her to the floor. I tamp down the urge to flip her over and take her like I own her. I want to make love to her first.
Crawling between her outstretched thighs, I position my hardened length at her entrance and push inside her slowly, feeling the aftershocks of her orgasm as a tantalizing vibration that shoots straight to my balls.
I fuck her slowly, with shallow strokes. Propping myself up on my elbows, I keep our bodies close and watch her face. I love the micro expressions that form on her delicate features as she absorbs every bit of pleasure I give her. Learning what she likes, I listen to the hitch of her breath, the way her fingers curl against my chest. I note every detail.
Thrusting into her, I lower my head and kiss her until her pussy clenches once more and she comes with a shuddering sigh, my mouth catching her gasp of pleasure. I withdraw from her quivering body and flip us over so she's on top of me.
"Your turn to fuck me, volpina."
On hearing the pet name, Violetta smiles darkly. She pushes herself up and slowly lowers herself onto my cock, sinking down one inch at a time. Even with flushed cheeks and wild, damp hair, she's breathtaking. She rocks her hips, moving them in circles as she raises herself up and down, finding a rhythm she likes. Her hands rest lightly on my chest. I thrust my hips to meet hers and she drops her head back as she moans.
Sitting up, I cradle her close, enjoying how warm and soft her body is against mine. I help her move up and down as she takes her pleasure from me. Her technique lacks finesse and I experience a surge of satisfaction when I realize she may not have done this before.
"That's it," I encourage her. "Let your pussy swallow my cock."
The look of raw desire in her eyes as she drops her head to meet my gaze almost makes me come on the spot. I guide her hips as her movement becomes erratic. She's panting now as the pressure grows more intense.
As she's about to come, I lift her off me, drop her onto the floor and pull her up onto her hands and knees. Unable to hold back a moment longer, I let loose the beast inside me and fuck her with a ruthlessness that borders on violence.
"More!" she urges when I think I'm going too hard. "Please, Damiano, fuck me harder."
With a palm between her shoulder blades, I push her down to the floor and give her what she asked for. Writhing beneath me, she scrabbles at the carpet with her fingers, searching for something to hold onto.
When her climax comes, it's explosive. She screams as her pussy clamps down hard on me, milking my cock as I give her every last drop of my seed. I topple onto the floor and pull her into my arms.
As she slowly gets her breathing under control, I stroke her head. She places her hand on my chest and I glance down at her wedding rings, cool against my skin. A surge of possessiveness washes over me. She's mine. Every last inch of her.
SEVENTEEN
Violetta
I don't getout of the city often enough. Although Florence is one of the most beautiful places in the world and I wouldn't want to live anywhere else, the Tuscan countryside is on a whole different level. Mere words don't do justice to the vibrant green of the rolling hills, the magnificent woodlands and charming villages we pass through.
Damiano decided to drive us himself, opting to take a Range Rover rather than one of the low-slung supercars his garage is filled with. He thought my grandfather would be unimpressed by his McLaren or Bugatti. Personally, I'd have relished the chance to zip through the countryside in a sports car, its engine roaring as we accelerated along the open roads.
Still, it’s nice to be alone for a change.
For much of the drive, Damiano has been quiet, giving me time to think about the family I've never met. My father, Dario Ricci, is a man I know only from a tattered photo my mother keeps in a shoebox under her bed. The only image I have is ofhim aged eighteen, leaning against a white BMW, squinting into the sun. He was handsome then. Perhaps he still is.
My mother never speaks about him with the bitterness he's due. He left her when she was pregnant. Once he was gone, he didn't return. He never checked that I was okay, that we had food on the table. He never paid his share, and because of that my mother ran up debts and I was forced to put my dreams of university on hold.
If he asked to meet me now, I would refuse. To be honest, I'm not sure why I agreed to meet my grandfather. Perhaps it's because I'm intrigued by a man who would make a land deal contingent on my future being secured when he's never bothered to get to know me for himself.
I put those thoughts aside as we slow down and pull off the road next to a set of black wrought-iron gates.
"Casa di Lupo," I read the words fashioned into the metal above a wolf's head. "This is Lorenzo's place."
"I wanted you to see it before we get to your grandfather's house." Damiano points to a large building at the top of the hill overlooking vast fields of grapevines. "That's the visitor center. It was smaller before Lorenzo bought the place. He had it torn down and rebuilt."
Pride is evident in his voice and I can't blame him. The building is an impressive structure of brick and glass. It shouldn't sit comfortably in this rural landscape, but it does.
"And the house next to it?" I'm referring to the large villa beside it.
"He lives there much of the time. I'm sure he'll show you around someday. He loves to play tour guide."
"I'd enjoy that."
