Enchanted and Desired (24 page)

“E’così bello qui.”
[It’s so beautiful here]

“I hardly ever know what you’re saying, but it sounds beautiful. I could listen to you speak Italian all day. It’s super sexy.”

He grabs me around the waist, letting me feel his length hardening against me. “
Voglio che gridare per me il mio amore. Solo per me. Tu sei più bella per me di tutta l' Italia. Ti amo più della vita stessa
.”
[I want you to scream for me my love. Just for me. You are more beautiful to me than the whole of Italy. I love you more than life itself.]

I melt into his embrace, completely beguiled by the unknown words of seduction that roll off his delectable tongue. “You had me at ‘voglio’.”

He laughs against my lips. “Seriously? I seduce you with my mad Italian skills and you give me a cheesy Jerry Maguire rip off?” He starts to tickle me relentlessly, making me convulse in the middle of the street.

“Stop. Stop, stop. I take it back. I love your mad skills.” He continues to torment me.

“Aaaannnnddd?????”

“And……I LOVE YOU. Mercy, please, MERCY!”

His lips find mine, his hands no longer torturing me as they slide down my sides to cup my ass. “Don’t you forget it baby.”

We spend the rest of the day walking around Venice, taking selfies on the Rialto Bridge, buying venetian opera masks in the gorgeous little markets dotted all over the city, and finally having an amazing dinner in Piazza San Marco. Our hotel looks out onto this famous square, and with such a magnificent backdrop, we make love into the early hours before I curl up against Simon’s warmth and strength, my mind wandering as soon as his breathing becomes shallow and even. I stare at him for what feels like hours, trying to capture everything about him and lock it away to keep close to my heart. My tears drip down onto the dusting of hair on his chest and as I wipe them with my fingers, the familiar charge I feel whenever we are connected, sparks and ignites a new wave of desire deep inside. I begin to kiss and nuzzle his hard, toned, tanned flesh, seeking a comfort I will never find.

“Not had enough of me yet Tesoro?” A sly grin creeps across his stunning features, his eyes still closed.

“I will NEVER get enough of you Simon. Remember that.” My eyes twinkle with unshed tears, my voice laced with melancholy.

He tilts my chin towards him, pinning me with his gaze. “I will. I’m yours Jess, for as long as you’ll have me…I’m yours.” A tear breaks free, making its way down my cheek towards my lips. Simon catches it with his tongue. “What’s wrong? Why so sad?”

“I’m not sad…I’m happy. I just feel so overwhelmed by how beautiful this city is, how beautiful you are when you’re here, how lucky I am to have met you.” Before the extent of my despair spills from my mouth, I capture his bottom lip with my teeth, savoring the taste of him. It’s all the encouragement he needs to ravish me into the night.

We spend the next day in bed, recovering from our night of passion. The only time I leave the bed is to be sick, in secret. I managed to convince Simon to go and get us some food while I ‘freshen up’, but by the time he returns half an hour later, I’m wiped out and asleep on the bed. I think he assumed it was exhaustion from our sexathon, but in reality, my body is changing, my energy is being redirected to nurture the baby that grows inside me, and the constant lying to him has me completely and utterly emotionally drained.

As the week progresses we work our way down the countryside, seeing so many quaint, authentic Italian towns that most tourists will never know even exist. We visit olive groves, churches, museums, beaches – I want to experience anything and everything with Simon. The water here is so clear and blue as far as the eye can see, the beaches white as snow. It’s not the season to be out sunbathing, but it doesn’t detract in any way from my appreciation of such wonderful surroundings.

Today we’re driving to Florence. Not only is it an amazing city, full of culture, art and some of the best shops a girl could ask for, it is also where Simon’s family are originally from. He still has family living on the outskirts of the city and he wants to take me to meet them. I’m apprehensive at first, it’s a big deal to meet so many members of his family at once, I don’t speak the language, and when we get back to New York…the spell will be broken, and I will become a distant memory to him in the months and years ahead. I make the decision to learn everything I can about Simon, his heritage, and about his family here in Italy. This will be part of our child’s identity, and I want to be able to teach him or her everything I can about where they come from, and the amazing man that fathered them. By the time we reach the little town called Campi, twenty minutes outside of Florence, I am almost excited at the prospect of meeting everyone.

Simon’s aunt Theresa keeps trying to offer me drinks. “No wine for me thank you.” I think this is the fourth time I’ve refused her in the three hours since we arrived.

She turns to Simon. “Why she no drink? Bambino? Simon!”

His face tightens as he admonishes her. “NO, zia. Cazzo fai madonna.
Non spaventarla.
”
[No, aunt. What the fuck? Don’t frighten her.]

I don’t need to speak Italian to know that he’s not happy with her assumption. My heart sinks a little further into my ever present despair. When he finishes cussing her out in Italian he moves over to sit next to me. “Are you okay Jess? Now that I think about it, you haven’t really had much to drink since we touched down in Italy.”

I manage to force a smile. “Trust me. If you had the same travel sickness that I had on the way here, you wouldn’t be drinking much either. The thought of most things, including alcohol, still make me feel a little queasy.” He accepts my answer and goes back to catching up with his family.

He must have about twenty cousins here and five or six sets of aunts and uncles – I have trouble keeping track of everyone. It’s nice to watch Simon in his element, the whole family crowding him, loving him, so full of affection. He speaks so fluently and with such ease, it’s a joy to watch, even when I have no idea what he’s saying. He tries to translate as much as he can, but I don’t want him to miss out on enjoying time with his family because of me. The evening passes quickly with lots of laughs and twice as many stories of Simon as a young boy, getting up to mischief with his cousins here in Italy during the long summers. I ask so many questions, gathering information to salt away and remember for our baby in the future. Simon watches me, a massive, panty-dropping smile on his face as I interact with his family. My face must mirror his as I watch him play with his cousins’ children. They range from 18 months to 9 years old, and they all love him. He’s adorable with them, and I can’t reconcile the man that doesn’t want a family of his own, with the man in front of me, surrounded by family and loving every minute of it. I guess having that level of extended family is more than enough for some people.

We stay in a gorgeous hotel in the center of Florence for a few days, with a view of the Duomo. We spend a lot of time with his family, but he carves out time for the two of us to explore the city together. He takes me around all of the famous museums. I stand in awe of The Birth of Venus in the Uffizi, and am completely dumbstruck in front of The David in the Galleria. Having said that, The David is nothing compared to the sculpted perfection that is holding my hand as I walk the streets of Florence. We leisurely walk up and down the Ponte Vecchio, Simon making me wait outside while he ducks into one of the jewelers. I take the opportunity to savor the sights and sounds of this magical place; watching as couples from all over the world enjoy the romance that this historic city inspires. He comes back out twenty minutes later, empty handed, telling me they didn’t have what he was looking for.

I’m a little sad when we leave Florence and his amazing family behind, but I’m happy that it’ll just be us for the remainder of our time together. With the top down, a breeze in my hair, and Michael Jackson’s ‘Love Never Felt So Good’ blasting on the radio, we’re headed for Rome, and for a brief moment, I feel perfectly carefree. Just a woman, completely in love with the man of her dreams, an endless future of possibilities sprawled out before us like the vast expanse of road ahead. If only it could stay this way.

SIMON

I wish we could stay here forever. Italy feels like home to me, and having Jess here with me, and all to myself without the hassles and pressures of work has been amazing. Every day I spend with her, every hour that passes, I fall even more in love with her – if that’s even fucking possible. If there was any doubt in my mind that she’s ‘The One’, it’s been completely eradicated by our time here.

I’ve brought her to Rome for the final four days of our vacation. It won’t be enough time to show her all of the beautiful treasures this city has to offer, but it will give her a taste, and we’ll be back in the future. There’s a myth that if you stand in front of the Fontana di Trevi, with your back to it, and throw a coin over your shoulder, if it lands in the water you’ll return to see it again. I do it every time I visit, and I plan to take Jess to see it while we’re here.

The view of Rome from our suite is phenomenal - a panoramic vista of the ancient city, but the view behind me is even more breath-taking. Jess is asleep on the bed, rosy cheeked and rumpled from our afternoon love making. She’s radiant. The sheets have pooled at her waist, her gorgeous breasts, plump and begging for my touch.

As the sun spills through the windows, kissing her skin, I can’t help but do the same. I crawl onto the bed, lowering my lips to capture her sweet rosebud nipples into my mouth, applying as little pressure as possible, suckling her, flicking my tongue over the hardened tip. My hand runs from her waist up and over her other breast. She stirs beneath me, her voice sleepy and so damn sexy.