The past three months… I don’t know how to describe them. But, somehow, I feel lighter, calmer. My mind isn’t racing. My body isn’t fearful and trembling. I sleep through the night and smile more throughout the day. Even Delilah has noticed a change in me. And that has made me the happiest of all. I want her to see me happy. I want her to see me healthy and healed. Perhaps I even want her to see me in love.
As another breeze nips at my skin, I wrap my arms around myself and turn toward the lemon tree planted at the edge of the garden closest to Gio’s office. I admire the small plant and touch its leaves. I wonder how it will grow. I wonder about the fruit it will bear just as I dream of the possibilities for Gio and I.
Gio loves me. He’s told me so and his actions prove it every day. Maybe it took me a while to believe it. Maybe it took me a while to feel comfortable with it. But now, there’s no more avoiding it. Gio Moretti loves me. And the way he touches me, looks at me, speaks to me when we’re alone… It makes me feel more than loved. It makes me feel wanted, desired, craved.
The memory of our first kiss has replayed repeatedly in my head since it happened. The way he wrapped his hand around the back of my neck and pulled me to him, possessive, and yet perfectly balanced with tenderness. And then, there’s the memory of us in the pool. His words electrified every part of my being while also making me feel so safe. For the first time, I felthis lustandhis love, and it made me feel desired in a way I never have before. And I’ve wanted to feel all those things again for weeks now. But I’ve been scared. Gio, on the other hand, has been patient. And every day that he’s waited for me, I’ve fallen for him.
He saidbeautifuldoesn’t begin to describe me. It’s not so easy to describe him either. He’s kind, gentle, respectful, caring, thoughtful, protective, strong, intelligent. He’s everything. But one thing I love most is how he loves Delilah. Perhaps seeing his love for her is what truly allowed me to let go of my fear.
A week ago, when the three of us decorated the house for Christmas, I’d gone up to the third floor in search of ornaments. It’s a single room, almost like a make-shift attic. When we’d first moved in, it was nothing but storage. But this time, I found the space empty and prepped for construction. I don’t know how Gio cleared it out without my noticing. But, in the center of the empty room, I found blueprints, and he later confirmed it. He’s turning the third floor into a playroom for Delilah. He plans to fill it with toys and costumes for her to play dress up. It’ll be ready just in time for Christmas morning. That was it. That was the moment I truly knew—I not only feel Gio’s love, but I love him too.
As I turn back to Delilah and watch as she runs through the garden with Ru, I know my patience with myself has run out. And it’s time I tell him how I feel. It seems more than the season has changed. It’s time to write my next chapter. Or, should I say,ourchapter—Delilah’s, mine, and Gio’s.
With Delilah takinga nap in our bedroom, I decide to take advantage of the good weather andaccomplish a task that won’tdisturb her. With my headphones in, Gracie Abrams playing, a big outdoor brush and a bucket full of cleaning supplies in hand, I head to Gio’s terrace to give it a little spruce. Though, the job quickly proves not so little. There’s a lot more mildew on the stones than I remember, and the dirt and bird excrement on the bistro set is practically cemented to the iron. With sweat beading on my forehead and my paper towels ripped to shreds, I decide I need some gloves to finish the job and a potty break while I’m at it.
With my music still playing, I head inside. Not wanting to wake Delilah or walk all the way to the downstairs bathroom, I go to Gio’s. I make it to the vanity before I notice the steam on the mirrors and the spicy cinnamon scent filling the room. As movement in my peripheral draws my attention, I turn. My eyes widen in shock and my mouth falls open as Gio comes into view.
He stands, naked and completely visible, behind the glass shower door. One hand pressed against the tiled wall, the other… My eyes drift lower and I gulp. He strokes himself. He…his, his very large self.
There’s pressure in my lower back as I remember what it felt like the night he had me atop his lap. His dick pressed into me from behind and I remember it feeling impressive. But my mind was on so many things that night, and the conversation we were having was way more important. And then, there was that time out by the pool when I forced myself not to look, knowing what the sight of it would do to me. Even when he showed me the scar on his upper thigh, I avoided eye contact with his center. Now, there’s nothing to distract me from his length, his girth, or the thick veins in his hands, or the way his bicep flexes as he touches himself.
I press my thighs together as the need to pee and cum collide. I don’t know which of the two bodily functions is the cause of the wetness in my panties. Though, as I lift my eyes, draggingthem up Gio’s body, admiring the muscles in his legs, ass, and abdomen, it is a new bodily function that has my mind occupied. And that is, my heart racing, as Gio’s dark gaze takes hold of me and has my feet frozen in place.
“Oh, so…sorry,” I stutter. I rip the earbuds out of my ears. “I’m…I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you and I…” Gio opens the shower door, stealing the words right off my tongue. His eyes don’t leave mine as he steps toward me, still touching himself. What is he doing? What am I doing? What’s happening?
His eyes dip lower and lower until they reach my breasts. This dress isn’t the most attractive thing I own. It hardly gives me any cleavage. But Gio doesn’t seem to care. His eyes trace the curves of my body. As he admires me, he tugs his bottom lip between his teeth and the speed of his strokes increases. As he does, I remember all the things he said about my body, about how he wants me. I’m now no longer afraid to admit I want him to. Still, this is unexpected. This is… “I should… Should I go?” I ask.
A muscle in his face twitches. “No.” It’s a single word answer, barely audible given his low tone and the water still spraying in his shower. But his message is clear. And so, I stay, and I watch him as he watches me.
He once said my body is a work of art, but his is like a statue made of marble. In every way that I am soft, he is hard. The more I stand in his presence, the more amazed I am, the more aware of his strength I become, the more vulnerable I feel, and yet, the more aroused. This man…this man could do wicked things to me. And yet he treats me with such gentleness. Though, that look in his eyes and the things it does to my insides makes me wonder what it would feel like if he were a little less gentle.
Gio takes another step and reaches toward me. Brushing my sleeve off my shoulder, he pulls the strap of my black bra between two fingers. He tugs and the subtle movement allowsmy feet to break free from the imaginary ice. I move toward him. As I do, Gio’s grip on my bra intensifies as he takes it by the fist full. The fabric tears at my nipple as Gio’s lips crash into mine. I moan as we collide and struggle to keep up as Gio kisses me with a speed, a hunger that I’ve never experienced before.
This kiss is so different from our first, which was soft and tender. This one, this one is ravenous and all-consuming, so consuming I forget his other hand is still very much busy until Gio’s body jerks and his lips no longer move against mine. Instead, he moans and hisses as cum shoots from him. I look down, watching as it stains my dress and drips onto the floor beneath us.
Even as cum drips from his head, Gio’s dick is still erect. Slowly, gently, he continues to stroke himself as he takes a step back. The small amount of space allows me a moment to breathe and remember the craving coiling inside me. But…but I’m filthy, sweaty, dirty from the gardening and cleaning. I also can’t remember if my legs are shaved, much less my pussy. I want him. I want him to grant me a release just as he’s done for himself, but not like this.
“I…I should clean this up,” I say, dropping to my knees before him. But, as I reach for the nearby toilet paper, Gio takes a step toward me and brings his fingers to my chin. He directs my eyes to his, though it does not go unnoticed that his thick, throbbing, dripping penis is in perfect position to enter my mouth. The thought has saliva filling the back of my throat.
“The only way you’re cleaning up my cum is with your tongue,” he says with a glint in his unusually dark eyes.
“But wouldn’t that smear it?Ohhh!” He doesn’t actually care about the cum on the bathroom floor. Though, as my eyes drift to his appendage once more, he pulls me up into his arms. Perhaps he doesn’t want that either.
“And I would never dare have you on your knees for me before I have kneeled for you. But there is something you can do for me,” Gio says as he takes a fist full of my dress.
“What’s that?” I ask quietly.
He smiles and uses his free hand to brush a loose curl behind my ear. The darkness in his eyes leaves him. And, as much as I long to experience all of him, his gentleness calms my racing heart and settles the butterflies dancing in my stomach. Until he says, “Join me.” Gio steps back toward the shower. Releasing the fabric of my dress, he intertwines his fingers with mine, prompting me to follow him. Though, he does not force. He allows it to be my choice. And, suddenly, all concerns regarding the state of my body leave me.
I step forward, kicking off my sandals as Gio takes me with him back behind the glass door. How ironic? I once thought of the glass door separating my world from Gio’s, the fairytale from the mundane realm. And now, I find myself on the other side of another glass door, awaiting yet another life-changing experience.
Steam surrounds us as water crashes down on me, drenching my hair and dress so that both hang heavy on me. Gio places one hand on my hip and wraps the other around my neck. My lips part in anticipation. I don’t have fond memories of this position. Choking is not something I’m unfamiliar with. But I asked Gio to give me new memories and I trust his touch. I trust his grip. I trust him not to hurt me. I trust him to stop.
“I’ve wanted this for so long, Darcy,” Gio whispers. He kisses my neck as he applies slight pressure to my throat. It’s a gentle choke, one that doesn’t hurt but actually makes me feel incredibly safe. It’s as if the entire world would have to break through him to get to me and somehow, I know the world would fail. Gio will protect me. Gio will take care of me. Gio will love me. All the reassurances I’ve given myself, all that Gio has givenme—I finally believe every word. I finally have no hesitations. And with that, I melt beneath him as Gio digs his teeth into my flesh. It’s quick, then replaced with a kiss.
As my hands peruse his body, savoring the touch of every muscle I find, Gio’s kisses continue, trailing from my neck to my chest. As his lips move, so do his hands. Releasing my throat and hip, he moves his fingers to my other sleeve and slips it off my shoulder. The fabric sticks to my skin. It doesn’t fall all the way down, but just enough to reveal my black lace bra, the fabric of which is straining under the pressure of my erect nipples.
As Gio kisses the tops of my breasts, he cups them. I moan in response to his squeezes. Though it’s what he does next that has me truly unraveling. He lifts his eyes to mine. The dark glint from before has returned to him. Through the fabric of my bra, he rolls my nipples between his fingers. I gasp and squirm. It’s the most perfect torture, a kind I never want to escape from. My legs begin to shake, and my hips thrust forward. Gio notices and he stops.
