“You smell good.” He turns his head, looking at me with those eyes that make me melt. If I was standing, my knees would get all wobbly.
“You smell good sometimes.” I nudge his ribs, which is really just my way of figuring out how I can touch him again.
“Hey!” His mouth parts as he jokingly acts offended. He knows he never smells bad. Even when he’s sweating, he smells like some expensive cologne.
“Wine?” He asks after we’ve laughed a bit.
“Sure.” I nod, and he sits up, popping off the cork and pouring each of us a glass to the brim. We finish the entire bottle, lost in a conversation (debate) about the fashion industry. It ends with Antonio saying if I care so much, I should make my own clothes.
“I do want to make my own clothes.” I sit my glass down and lay back. He lays down as well, grabbing mine, and our fingers intertwine over his chest.
“Then you should do it.” He grins, tapping his forehead to mine. My heart skips a beat.
“If this fake dating thing succeeds, I promise I’ll try.” I laugh, and he nods, a look of satisfaction across his relaxed face.
“Good.”
For a while, it’s silent as we look up at the sky, and then a shooting star streams across it. Quickly, I close my eyes and make a wish that one day this would be real. To be with someone who really wants me and roots for me to succeed in all my endeavors.
“I wished for this to be real.” Antonio whispers, and my eyes fly open as I tilt my head to him. Not because we were thinking the same thing but because of the implications of his words.
“What?” I blink, slightly stunned.
“I want this to be real. You and me.” He moves our hands back and forth as he bites his red-wine lips.
“You don’t mean that, Antonio. You had too much wine.”
“I’m completely coherent, and I want you.”
“Stop.” Now I’m actually getting huffed. Tears in my eyes that I loathe for making me feel stupid. It's to the point where we’re arguing now. I’m insisting he doesn’t want me this way, and he’s telling me he does. I don’t even think he knows what he’s really saying.
“Antoni—“
“Stella, I think we should become a real thing.”
“Antonio, I think you’re drunk.” I mimic his candor and sit up. Quickly he follows and takes my warm cheeks in his hands. His eyes are pleading for me to believe him, but how can I? One moment he’s here, and the next, he’s gone, attempting to forget his feelings and problems and responsibilities. We can’t work. It’s just too complicated.
“Please.” He whispers, and I swallow, my breathing quickening into a nervous strain.
“Antonio.”
“Stella.” His lips twitch into a smile, and I can’t help but do the same. He kisses me quickly before I can work my way out of his grasp, a strange look on his face that tells me he’s sorry, but he shouldn’t be. I’m more of a mess than him right now because I kiss him back with more passion than his initial move.
I push him onto his back, straddle him, and kiss down his neck as his breathing quickens. Before I realize it, I’m grinding my hips over his hardening bulge. We’re breathing into our kisses with a passion that won’t easily be quenched. We can’t go back now. It’s always like this. The moment we touch, it’s like we melt into each other's hands, forget all senses except the pleasure we mutually partake in.
“You said no.” He whispers as I bring my lips back to his mouth.
“I say a lot of things,” I whisper and kiss him softly again.
“I want you so bad.”
“I know the feeling.” We smile into another kiss, and he rolls us over so I’m on my back. I feel his cock pressing into the thin satin thong I have on. I don’t think he’s wearing anything under his shorts, and I honestly don’t care. And I want him, but this feels different because we’re recalling looking at each other between each kiss. He’s trailing down my body like he wants to remember every detail. I bring my legs over his shoulders, and he plummets to my burning arousal, pushing my panties aside and flicking my clit with his precise and strong tongue. Immediately, I'm carried into another realm because his touching me always feels transcendent.
I’m lost in the stars. That’s where my eyes fall as I moan. He moves his tongue fast over my drenched pussy, slipping a finger halfway inside and caressing the center of me. I grip his hair tightly, and he lets me as I build to an intense orgasm. His hand slides up my silky dress and cups my breasts, bringing me further from any sense of up and down.
Even simple touches feel erotic, so his face buried in my depths is pure ecstasy. That is the only way I can describe our encounters because it's the only thing I can get addicted to. Breaking the habit will be horribly hard, but thinking about it is the last thing I want to do currently, so I push it away as I climax. I'm panting, and he knows what that means, but he continues to push me, licking faster than before until I’m digging my fingernails into his arms. He doesn’t let up, and I gasp into another glorious, intense burst of pleasure.
“Antonio.” I breathe, and he looks into my eyes with such attraction I lose my breath for a moment. His perfect green eyes brighter than the moon, hair pushed back on the sides and perfectly tousled atop, pieces falling down in waves into his rounded forehead. His square jaw is covered in stubble that looks sexy regardless of whether he has hair on it or not.