14
Mia
He comes to my door and knocks just as I wished him to. Not during the night, but now in the morning, while my feelings of last night are still fresh. I need to know that what happened wasn’t just a figment of my imagination–and yet, as I let him in, no matter how excited I am to see Antonio, I struggle to find something to say.
I feel embarrassed, because of what he saw last night—me at my most vulnerable. Even having cum in front of him feels embarrassing, though he was the one to pull it out of me. But the way he made me feel last night, the mixture of pleasure and pain, was anything but malicious. He gave me something I’d been yearning for, for years already. He even taught me something about myself, and what I think I would enjoy in bed. Because of all this, I feel closer to him. I feel a certain kind of intimate shyness around him. My anger from before has dissipated, giving way to intrigue about him and what he likes. My desire to find that out has now surpassed my desire to leave. What he did last night changed everything for me.
He slowly walks in and stands at the window.
“It’s stopped raining,” he finally says, and although he still looks like the same man who probably makes most of the world cross the street when they see him approaching, in the light of this new day, his demeanor towards me has become softer, more patient. “The sun’s come out.”
“Yes,” I say with a glance out the window. The strong sun rays dry up any evidence of the rain. My eyes jump to his, eager to let him carry the conversation for the both of us.
“Did you get any sleep?” He asks coolly.
Again, I nod, wondering if he’s going to bring up last night because if he does, I’m not sure that I know how I’m going to react. How do you even address such a thing? So much of me feels embarrassed that we’re even face to face again. It reminds me of the first time I kissed a boy in school. The next day, I was so beside myself that I avoided him until the whole thing just blew over. Though, what may have been possible in high school is certainly not now. I want to say something, to respond, but silence comes between us and I’m unable to push it away.
“Would you like to join me for a walk?” Antonio asks.
My eyebrows curve down. “A walk? Where?”
Antonio tips his head to the side. “I thought you might like to get some fresh air.”
Nodding is apparently my main form of communication because that’s all I seem to be doing. The tension is thick between us as unspoken words fly in and out of my thoughts.
He clears his throat. “You might want to get dressed first.”
Quickly I look down to my pants-less legs, then to his gray slacks and light-blue collared shirt, buttons open at the neck. Right. Does he always dress so well? Probably.
“I’ll wait outside.”
He leaves me standing alone, wondering how things can seem so normal now, when just yesterday I was sneaking out of the house, planning my escape. Did what happened last night change everything? In a good way? It might have. I know that it has for me because now I want to feel him so much more than before.
He waits outside as I decide to put on a long, flowing halter neck dress. It’s a Dolce & Gabbana piece, colorful with pink flowers patterned across the material. It seems perfect for the occasion–a walk on a sunny day–and I wonder who even thought of including it in my emergency bags of clothes. It’s my favorite thing to wear actually: long, colorful dresses that sit comfortably on my wide hips. I love my jeans, but dresses are a lot more comfortable for someone with my hourglass body shape. I know I’m no skinny chick, but this dress frames my curves so well that I feel sexier for it. A pair of sandals were given to me as well, and they suit my outfit perfectly. Lastly, I sweep my hair up into a clip and leave a few tendrils causally loose.
When I walk out, the look Antonio gives fills me with a satisfaction I try to hide from my face. He scans every inch of my body, his pupils dilating as he does, his expression one that no man can hide.
I excite him, and I know it.
* * *
Before heading outside,Antonio offers me a tour of the house.
“It’s pretty big, and I wouldn’t want you to get lost again the next time you try to escape me.”
Realizing that he’s teasing me, I scoff. “Oh, I wasn’t lost.”
We’re walking down the very same corridor that my room is in, and I see him frown slightly. “No?”
“No. I made it outside.” He opens a pair of double doors, revealing a grand master bedroom. It’s spacious, with French doors leading onto a big balcony. With the doors wide open, a breeze flits through the room, picking the white curtains up to float in the air.
“Well, maybe next time you feel like being outside, you’ll choose this balcony.” We step out and I gasp at the view before us. It’s just greenery, a vast garden with rough, virgin forest beyond the manicured plant beds. I assume the forest surrounds the grounds, giving a better sense of privacy to the mansion. Antonio leans on the low wall separating us from the double-story drop and looks out into the distance thoughtfully. I want to know what he’s thinking, but I don’t ask, instead watching him, watching the view.
“My grandfather bought this house, which was quite an achievement for an Italian immigrant to do back then. Dates back to the 18th century,” he says, without looking my way. I wonder who this is really for, me, or his nostalgic thoughts.
I look up to the exterior stonework, having no comparison, I take his word for it. I nod my head but can’t help to think what kind of Italian his grandfather was. I doubt his success came from hard work and fortunate investments.
“It’s beautiful. Even if sinister on the inside.”