Authors: Lonaire Drummond
Adele swam for a few beats, and as she hoped, Ambrogio’s eyes trained on her when she broke through the water. He white-knuckled the edge of the swing while his dick rose in reverence to the gifts Adele had laid out before him.
“Adele.” His lustrous voice coated her name in a blanket of tightly woven need.
“Don’t…..move,” she said.
She took calculated steps toward him, mindful of the swing’s precarious position over the water, yet never taking her eyes off of his. A contortionist Adele was not, so she pushed the thing over the wood floor, its braided cord firm in her hand for support. She waited, nose to nose, for him to make a move. He didn’t.
Spurred on by her new position of power, doling it out like any dictator worth his stock, she propped Ambrogio’s hands up against the back of the swing.
“
Merda.
You’re trying to kill me,” he said.
“Don’t speak.” She rose up so her breasts were level with his eyes. Weapons in her sex arsenal, she traced his lips with her breasts. He retaliates with a kiss to each pebbled bud.
“Don’t move. I mean your lips and--other things too.” Adele said, feeling his cock twitch through his underwear.
She bit his ear, but not hard enough to draw blood. In response, Ambrogio dropped a kiss onto her shoulder. Only intending to teach him a lesson, she undulated against his crotch, treating him to several devilish rolls of her hips when her clit connected with his bulge, the resulting sensation transformed a slow grind into a full on bucking ride. Adele became undone.
“You don’t listen well.” Adele said through short breaths.
“How will you punish me?” Ambrogio’s eyes shined with mischief.
“Take these off first, and then I’ll show you.” She said, after she caught her breath.
With his body held aloft, Ambrogio shimmied his drenched briefs down and off, not caring which direction they landed in.
Out of the need to control Ambrogio, coupled with the increased discomfort of having both knees dig into the wood swing, despite the cushion, Adele changed positions.
Arms clenched around his neck, their eye lashes touching, she lowered her body onto him, swallowing his tip momentarily, and then retreating all together just to bounce on him again and again.
She liked him this way: speechless and yielding. His neck sprung back against the edge of the swing, the familiar comebacks and easy charm now reduced to throaty grunts. To change things up a bit, she slid down onto him to fully consume his hardness.
Saddled up, she rode him with a vigor she did not know she possessed. The squeaks from the swing and the skin slapping acted as the refrain in their love song. Her actions became jerky when another orgasm approached. Not one to be outdone, Ambrogio grasped the dip in her back and drilled into her.
She laid her head against his neck when she couldn’t hold herself upright anymore. In this position, Adele was overcome with the urge to suck on his sweat-stained skin.
Ambrogio had taken to babbling in a nonsensical blend of Italian and English, but he was coherent enough to muster one last mighty thrust and over into oblivion she fell. The braided cord snapped at the same moment Adele’s orgasm consumed her. Still connected, they plunged into the pool below.
“You are exquisite,” Ambrogio said.
“Did we just break the swing?”
“
Si
, you are very talented.
Brava
,” he said.
“I wasn’t up there alone. Don’t put it all on me.”
They both stared at Ambrogio’s long forgotten briefs floating by in the water.
“I am a victim. You gave me no choice. How did you become so talented?” Ambrogio asked.
“A pole dancing aerobics class.”
“Pole dancing?”
“Like what the strippers use--,” she said.
“
È uno scherzo
?” A wide smile lit up his features.
“I’m not joking. It was Robynne’s idea. Can we get out of this pool? My vagina broke the fall. I think I might need to see doctor.”
She felt the soreness spread throughout her bottom half when Ambrogio helped her out the pool and onto his bed. The roar of the faucet announced his intentions, but her vagina was not amused. Although she couldn’t go another round, the thought of lingering in a tub with Ambrogio brought a smile to her face.
Gloriously naked, Ambrogio strolled into the room. “You’re beautiful when you smile. Why don’t you do it more often?”
“I smile.”
He hooked Adele’s arm around his neck, lifting her from the bed. “You only smile when you think no one is looking.”
“You drew me a bath?”
“To ease the soreness,” he said.
Sudsy clouds puffed high, floating in the tub. Along the edge, the flames of a dozen scented tea candles flickered.
“Join me.”
“You need to rest,” he said.
“I’m sure you’ll be able to control your urges.”
Ambrogio slide behind her and Adele eased backed between his legs. The silence along with the steam from the hot bath swirled around them.
“Tell me.” Ambrogio rubbed down Adele’s tense shoulders.
“Tell you what?”
“Adele, don’t play dumb. You don’t wear it well.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” Adele moved to raise herself out of the tub, the pain between her legs long forgotten.
She cursed Ambrogio’s willingness to ruin their moment with painful questions regarding her family. Instantly hard, Ambrogio’s penis had other ideas too.
“Stop trying to distract me.” Ambrogio held her still and willed his erection away with a strength he didn’t know he had.
Adele’s limp hands fell back into the tub. “My father heard me talking about putting him into a home. He left the house and next thing I knew, he was dead in the neighborhood playground.” Her spirit, once weighed down with heaviness, lifted, thankful for release.
“What happened was a tragedy. It was not your fault.”
“I know that now. Felicità taught has taught me to look at my situation differently. She’s just as strong-willed as my father. He was like a Pit Bull, once his mind locked around an idea, it took the Jaws of Life to pry it out of his head. His determination made him a good musician.”
“What did he play?”
“The violin was his second hand. He performed on subway platforms up and down Manhattan. He did very well for himself…and us.”
“I’ve never ridden the subway. I would like to someday. I can’t believe he made a living from playing music on the subway.”
Adele smiled through her tears. “He had to get a permit and everything. Sometimes he’d bring me along; I collected the money.”
Ambrogio hugged her from behind. “He was a good man?”
“He was a great man. I wasn’t going to put him in a home. He caught the tail-end of a conversation between my mother and me. She wanted to put him in a home.”
“Are you close with your mom?”
“We don’t talk.”
Ambrogio’s cellphone rang, an interruption they both tried to ignore. After the second set of rings, he left Adele to soak alone in the tub. Good and pruned, she abandoned the lukewarm water in search of food, a pursuit which occurred without Ambrogio by her side. Two hours later, with Ambrogio still engaged in an important business call, Adele finally went to sleep.
She found a note in lieu of his warm body the next morning.
Adele tore the note to shreds. “I hope he tells his business associates goodbye at least. What an asshole.”
More hurt than angry, she marched down to the front desk haphazardly dressed in a pair of wrinkled black shorts and a purple tank top.
“I need a room.”
The clickety-clack of Celeste’s keystrokes did not stop when she looked up from her computer. “There aren’t any rooms. There’s a celebrity golf tournament in town. Every hotel on this island is booked. Is there something wrong with Mr. Argentero’s villa?”
Adele fumed. “Nevermind.
Celeste rose from her seated position behind the front desk. “Are you going to the chocolate tasting tonight? Since Mr. Argentero is gone and my boyfriend has to work, we can be each other’s dates.”
She had forgotten about the chocolate tasting. Seeing the event as a perfect way to get Ambrogio out of her mind, Adele agreed to go with Celeste. Now all she needed was a dress: the more scandalous the better.
Chapter 18
Adele busied herself with one of her favorite pastimes—shopping. In Castries scrutinizing dresses, she banished all thoughts of Ambrogio out of her mind, however, remnants of their intimate time spent together still throbbed in her thighs. The swollen flesh there had turned a nasty shade of bluish-purple. The affliction caused her to shuffle instead of walk like a regular human being.
Adele found a low-cut, body hugging white satin dress which followed the white or black dress code. The gown looked poured on. A sizable portion of side-boob revealed itself when Adele’s profile came into view.
Sales associates gathered around her, oohing and ahhing.
“You look lovely. What’s the occasion?” A salesgirl asked.
“I’m going to Le Chocolatè’s annual party,” Adele said.
“There was a man in here this morning looking for a suit for the same occasion. Although he was very attractive, he acted like a complete jerk. It was as though he owned the world or something.”
“Did his name start with an A?” Adele asked.
“No, it started with an M. I can’t remember it now. He drove me to drink. He was so good looking. What a waste.”
Adele sighed. “I’m familiar with the type.”
“I wish I was going. It sounds like so much fun.”
Adele peeled off the dress. “It will be.”
Adele headed straight for Tress’ Dresses. She wanted to be the center of attention, but it didn’t mean she had to appear as though she worked at an establishment with poles and a three drink minimum.
Awashed in a chocolate wonderland a few hours later, Adele admired the swans floating in a river of lustrous dark chocolate from the raised floor. Wait staff, decorated to resemble living champagne display cases, plied guests with bubbly pulled right from their costumes as they entered the room.
Celeste tapped on Adele’s arm. “Isn’t it beautiful?”
Startled, Adele looked down to make sure her bare breasts hadn’t made an appearance. “It’s amazing. I’m a little perplexed as to how the hotel pulled off the chocolate river.”
“I’ll never tell. What do you think about the chocolate-dipped strawberries hanging from the ceiling? It was my idea.”
“Do we get to eat them or are they just for decoration?” Adele asked.
“The guests get to eat them. It’s an interesting little game I’ve designed to encourage the single guests to mingle with each other.”
Adele picked up a rose from the centerpiece and ate a petal upon discovering it too was in fact made of chocolate. “How very scandalous of you.”
“You’re ruining the centerpiece.” Celeste said.
“I prefer licking chocolate to licking my wounds.”
“I’m sorry about Mr. Argentero,” Celeste said.
“I’ve already forgotten him.”
Steel drums played a Calypso version of a Rihanna song. Celeste swayed to the music, decked out in a one-shoulder red ensemble in direct defiance of directions on the invitation.
“I like your dress. Why red?” Adele asked.
“Employees always wear red. It’s how big brother keeps tabs on the staff. Do you see the man over there?”
Adele looked in the direction where Celeste was pointing. “I’ve seen better.”
The man’s hair, a mass of curls, hovered around his head like a halo. Adele had a feeling a bevy of products helped him achieve his casual “bed-head” look.
“He’s stunning.” Celeste said.
“I thought you had a boyfriend.”
“I do, but I’m not dead. I can still look. I think you should dance with him.” Celeste said.
Adele shook her head. “Why would I?”
“He’s interested in you. He’s been looking in this direction since he walked into the room.”
“I came to forget men.” Adele said.
“Your dress says something totally different.”
“It is pretty revealing, isn’t it. I don’t normally dress this way. I wanted to make Argentero jealous, but I realized how stupid it is to try to make someone jealous who isn’t even here.”