A Sweet Taste of Italy by Janie Jerome

Author:Janie Jerome
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: fiction, romance, italy
Publisher: Janie Jerome

CHAPTER EIGHT

I BREATHE THE LOVE

RESPIRO ‘AMORE

There was a private lounge beyond the bar. I fell into his arms. We held each other fiercely; I loved the feel of his strong arms around me. I loved feeling the strength of his body holding me. We began to kiss with open mouths in passionate wild desperation such as I had never known. We responded to each other perfectly. If either of us had experienced any doubts about how much we wanted each other we could be in doubt now. We were equally amorous and erotic.

His first thrust was so powerful it flung me back into the soft depths of the lavish sofa. I felt him so deeply in between my legs and grasped him tightly. I kissed him more feverishly than ever. Then as if he was content to have had that moment deep inside me his hand lifted my skirt and he touched me there, in my place. Although it had been so long I knew I was already very swollen and very wet. I was close to orgasm. My kisses became ever more frenzied. His hand left me and he thrust at me again, once, twice, three times, then once more he saved himself to touch me intimately again. Now I was gasping, making soft moaning noises in his ear. More thrusts, I pushed back. One more taste of heaven in another fluttering embrace of my special place before that last immense plunge. Our two bodies were moving in a perfect rhythm of happiness. We came together.

I moaned, I kissed each of his closed eyelids softly, then his neck. Our open mouths came together again more tenderly now as we subsided into stillness. All too soon he gently let go of me. His eyes were looking elsewhere and I followed his glance. Two women were approaching the terrace.

I glanced through the open door towards my table and saw my white Italian Coccinelle handbag on the floor under my table. It was so strange. I felt as if it would have made a sweet Picasso sketch. It told a story of an owner who had abandoned it to go to her lover.

He went to greet them, I followed and sat down at a table back in the bar area. I didn’t know what else to do. I picked up the menu and began to fan myself. He walked out to greet the women. A workman came in and leant on the bar, “Ciao, “he said.

“Ciao,” I replied.

“Caldo” (hot) he said.

“Si, Caldo”, I acknowledged.

He came back in. Still I didn’t know what to do or where to go. I thought it best to go back to my table outside on the terrace. I felt very lost and alone already. Should I be the first one to initiate departure and leave? I rather thought I should. Yet I could not go. It crossed my faint heart and foolish mind that he would desert his post, take me down to the apartment, push me on to the bed and take me again with another powerful thrust of his body.

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