As I suspected, the beauty of the sunset only enhances our spectacular surroundings.
But as beautiful as everything is, I can't take my eyes offher.
She spins slowly with her hands outstretched as if the flowers transport her to a place of pure happiness. When she stops and faces me, I drop her shoes and take a step forward, closing the distance between us.
Bringing my hand to her hair, I weave my fingers through the tendrils at the nape of her neck and bring her body flush with mine. The soft scent of her cherry blossom perfume envelops me as the breeze catches her hair.
“I love you, Vincenza.” The words slide easily from my tongue, feeling them wholeheartedly and deeply.
A wave of relief crashes into me. I’ve felt it for so long and have bit my tongue, but finally saying the words aloud feels incredibly right.
Kissing her softly, I coax her mouth open and trace her tongue with my own. She sighs and relaxes in my hold, kissing me back, but never changes the tempo.
When we break apart, she stares up into my eyesand I see a thousand things dance across her gray-blue irises.
“I love you too.” She presses up on her tiptoes to reach my lips again, and I meet her halfway.
In the middle of the marigolds, we allow ourselves to speak silently through our kisses, long past when the sun sets.
It’s only when the voices of other patrons entering the farm sound in the distance that we force ourselves apart, but my hand never leaves her body, sliding from her neck to her hand. “We should go, piccola ladra. Come home with me? Stay the night. I want you in my bed when I sleep and when I wake tomorrow.”
“Okay.” She smiles, then looks around strangely, like she’s about to get caught doing something.
My brows knit together as I try to figure out what she’s doing, before she reaches beneath her skirt and pulls her stockings down her legs, stepping out of them once they’re at her ankles. “Can I have my shoes, please?”
I bend down to grab them and hand them to her, watching as she balances on one leg to slide them on. When she’s done, winks at me.
“Can I have another ride?”
Laughing, I squat down and allow her to climb back onto my back. “You can have whatever you want, piccola ladra.”
The sky is dark as we ride back to the city, veering in and out of traffic before we finally have a straight shot on the freeway, at least for the next ten minutes or so. Our route is a shortcut of sorts, one that I learned years ago when I was far more impatient than I am now.
With every tilt of the bike, Vinnie’s thighs clench around me and I hear her gasp. It shouldn’t turn me on, but I grow impossibly hard thinking about her bare skin around my hips and how the vibration from the bike must be making her feel.
A thought trickles into my mind, but I’m hesitant to act on it. It’s reckless, but the closer to The Kenna we get, the more desperate I become to try it.
Leaning forward, I press my elbows against the handlebars of the motorcycle and pull the glove off my right hand and stow it in the pocket of my riding jacket.
All day, I’ve longed to touch her in ways that should only be done behind closed doors, but in the darkness of the night I can’t resist any longer. Careful to focus on the road, I slide my ungloved hand up Vinnie’s leg, feeling the softness of her skin beneath my fingertips.
Twisting my arm, I maneuver the fabric of Vinnie’s skirt until my hand is beneath it, and since she’s so close, it doesn’t take long to find the fabric of her underwear. I’m not gentle when I yank it aside and plunge two inside of her, knuckles deep.
It’s too loud to hear any noises she makes, but the way her helmet slams against my back and her hips scoot forward into my hand, tells me what her words cannot.
Gripping the handlebar with one hand, I seamlessly multitask as I drive down the freeway while my other hand works her body, fingering her with two digits.
My fingers slide in and out as slowly as I can, alternating between curving upward to stroke her G-spot and mercilessly pumping into her.
Her thighs widen slightly as I push harder into her.
From this angle, it's difficult to rub her clit as I know she likes, but it is fine because right now, my end goal is not to make her come, but to wind her up.
Her hand slips from my waist to my thigh, and I feel her nails press against the fabric. Her helmet rocks against my back again.
She’s incredibly wet, her juices coating my fingers as I pull onto 1st Avenue. Traffic is thick again, forcing me to slow the speed at which I’m driving.
I anticipate Vinnie removing my hand now that more people are around, but she surprises me when she squeezes my side and rolls her hips, chasing more of my touch.
