He started striking a bunch of different, silly poses, some flexing his muscles, some not. The fire was crackling behind him, flashing reds and oranges across his bronzed skin. It was art.
Alessandro was a man who could best be described as attractive without trying. He didn’t often do his hair, but the way his curls sat as a mess atop his head was oddly fashionable. He almost exclusively wore suits, but not because there was an allure to them, simply because that’s what his dad always told him to do. People reacted best to him when he was in his suits, so they made up about eighty percent of his wardrobe, with the other twenty being comprised of suit adjacent fashions like button-ups and long-sleeved polos. Even in high school, he was typically the nicest dressed kid walking around. If he owned t-shirts, I never saw them, and his pairs of jeans were used as grunt work clothing alone.
I let my fingers walk across his abs, admiring them up close. He smiled down at me and tossed me a cheeky wink, so I playfully jabbed at his stomach. He crawled forward, making his way up my body, leading with hands to settle on my breasts. He squeezed as he kissed them before dropping down to hook his fingers in the edges of my pants. He peeled them down, pecking along my thighs as he went, and stretched them to get them over my heels and off.
“These are staying on.” He licked my shin and kissed it as he crooked my leg over his shoulder.
His free hand dropped to his large and leaking shaft to pull at it while looking me over. He licked his lips like a wolf about to feast, and he guided himself down to my eager entrance. He perched himself there, tapping the sensitive bundle of nerves that sent me spiraling. I let out a moan, loving the feeling of the heated head teasing me. Alessandro knew exactly what to do and when to do it. He was a god among men.
“Please baby,” I simpered at him. “I need you inside me.”
Alessandro shook his head. “Well, shit, when you ask so nicely, how can I refuse?” He dipped into me without hesitation, quickly filling me up with all of him. He let out a deep breath. “Fuck.” He shuddered, drawing out the word. “Why do you always have to feel so good? I can’t last.”
I took the leg he didn’t have fastened over his shoulder and poked the toe of my heels at his arm. “But I want so much of you, baby. You have to last.”
He growled. “I’ll never make it with you talking like that.” He pushed even further into me, despite my believing he was as deep as he could go. The heavens sang when I clamped around him, feeling overstimulation as I came without warning.
“God, dammit. What are you doing to me?” he moaned.
He started to move in and out, in a hungry, rhythmic pattern. I wiggled my hips as he moved, wanting to feel as much of him moving around inside of me as I could. He picked up his pace until the sound of skin meeting skin was a lewd soundtrack to our dalliances, with vocals of my moans and his guttural grunts.
He was a maze I was happily lost in. Each new row of hedges was Alessandro turning me into a new position as the firelight flickered over us. He turned me around to where I was on all fours, wrapping his arm around me to massage my raised buds while he worked himself in and out of me at a wild, animal pace. He ventured into being a little rough, raising his hand above my ass and bringing it down in a pain-meets-pleasure slap that had me shaking with excitement.
He blanketed himself over me so he could take his time gathering each of my breasts into his mouth to enjoy. My nipples stood, excited to be rubbed between gentle teeth before being suckled with passion. He kept one leg hooked over his arm, stretching me wide, and making it easier for him to reach deep inside of me and play with spots that had me orgasming over and over without ceasing. His hands splayed across my skin, searching for any spot to grip as he dove into me.
Finally, he sat cross-legged and seated me in his lap. I wrapped my legs around to lock behind his back, while my arms circled his shoulders to hold on there. The closeness elevated the intimacy to new heights, our breaths landing in moans against each other’s clammy flesh. I rocked against him, pistoning him in and out of me at whatever speed I wanted. I edged him a little, going at a quicker pace until his hips were shaking, and then slowing down in legato movements, making him groan in my ear.
“Baby, I’m gonna come.” He bit down on my ear lobe.
I could feel it too. I’d lost track of how many times I’d struck gold, but there I was again, screaming out in unison with Alessandro, him emptying into me in the process.
I only barely recalled Alessandro carrying me up to my bed after our storm had died down. In the morning, light spilled in through my window, hazy and gray. A storm was developing outside. I looked over Alessandro’s face, calm and quietly snoozing next to me. I rubbed his bare chin and cheeks, realizing that I’d never seen him with facial hair. The Varassos weren’t facial hair people. On occasion, I’d see one of the older boys grow beards out, but Angelo was strict about not having facial hair and typically didn’t allow it. They’d all gone through stages of defying their father’s wishes—facial hair was a sign of becoming a man—but Alessandro never went through that. He hung on every word his dad said, never questioning or doubting him for a moment. He took what his dad said stone seriously, so I imagined
that when tiny whiskers started to appear on his face, he eradicated them post-haste and never allowed them to return.
Angelo had had a weird effect on his third son. It seemed like his eldest two were far from being his number one fan, but his youngest, though always trying to impress him, seemed more afraid of him than respectful toward him. With Alessandro, however, somewhere something stuck. Alessandro held high regard for his father, which was why I was somewhat surprised to hear that Luca had taken their late father’s seat and not Alessandro. He’d left his third eldest his entire set of rings, what I believed to be his most notable symbol of lordship over his family. Had Angelo intended for Alessandro to take over, and Luca strong-armed his way in as the oldest?
I bid the musings farewell. I loathed that burning curiosity inside me that occasionally wanted to know more about the Varassos’ inner-clockwork. Anyone would be interested, but at the end of the day, I didn’t want to know anything more about the Varasso family than what was necessary. For what it was worth, I knew I ultimately should be grateful that Luca held the throne, whether by will or by force. If Alessandro sat in his father’s chair, neither of the past two nights would have happened. I wouldn’t have even considered letting Alessandro talk to me at the funeral. A participant was one thing, but the patriarch was far beyond what I could handle.
I brushed over Alessandro’s face a few times before he reached up and took my hand without opening his eyes, kissed the palm, and set it back down against his chest.
His head lolled over, and he smiled at me. “Good morning.”
“Good morning, yourself,” I kissed his bottom lip gently. “Last night was wonderful.”
“Last night was more than wonderful,” he replied, returning my peck with one on my nose. “I didn’t want it to end.”
I nodded. “I know what you mean.”
One of his hands was wrapped around me, and his fingers circled against my lower back. I started to mentally hang onto the back and forth movement, feeling my eyes get tired again.
Alessandro snorted. “You look like you could go back to sleep.”
I nodded. “I probably could.”
“Go ahead,” he coaxed. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Will you?”