Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

Isabella

Anal sex hurts a whole lot less than I expect it to hurt. It still hurts, though. I mean, online there's some pretty clear advice. Lots of lube. Tell him to take it slow. Focus on your breathing. Relax. I do none of that. I give it to him without preparing the way I should, just pulling him out of my pussy while we're spooning and guiding him back.

I still move and moan like it's the best thing in the world, of course.

I give him my ass because I need him to want me.

I need him to want me more than he wants to go back to California.

He's been in town for four weeks. He has three weeks of vacation time left. I guess his firefighter contract gives him a lot of vacation but once he has some accrued, he has to use it or lose it. He's using it now. Three weeks. How am I going to survive when the man I love leaves again?

Yeah. Love. There's no denying it.

And so, yeah, I guide his cock to my virgin ass. Why not, right? As I understand it, couples break up all the time because the girl won't give the guy the backdoor. I'll use it to keep him close. And it doesn't hurt as much as I expect. Oh, it hurts, but it's manageable and even… Hell, it's almost good that it hurts, sexy. I don't know.

Anyway, he screws my ass and it doesn't hurt as much as I expect and I actually feel damned sexy. When he cums, everything gets so slick and easy that I end up rubbing my clit like crazy when he's still inside me. I cum and it's really powerful.

Anyway, that's not right now. That's an hour or so ago. I'm thinking about anal sex right now because he's gone on an errand for his mother, and so far, I haven't heard him tell me how he's decided to just stay here in the city forever.

Yeah, like he's going to say, "I just can't imagine leaving not that you've given me your tiniest, tightest, and most absolutely forbidden hole."

I giggle at the thought, which makes a few of the people browsing the greengrocer's rows of fresh peppers, zucchini, and other veggies pause and smile. There are a lot of things I can imagine Vittorio saying. I can promise you most absolutely forbidden hole isn't one of them. I grab some fruit, my reason for being here but all at once I decide to make dinner for Vittorio.

I grab peppers, a lot of them, along with some onions and other veggies. I end up getting far more than I expect but I'm just getting started! Next door is the butcher, and I get enough meat to make a feast. What the hell am I doing? I'm crazy.

And I go to O'Malley's. Yeah, an Irish place. What can I say, he's the only fish monger in the city you can trust. I get shellfish, calamari, and striped sea bass his sons caught. I don't know what's going on in my head but there will be a feast at Vittorio's little guest house tonight and a ton of leftovers to freeze afterward.

I feel really good.

I drive directly to his place because I'll be working all day. I haven't done something this impulsive in a very, very long time. My phone rings just as I step out of my car. I answer, giggling, "You'll never guess what I did but you're in for a surprise."

"I'm leaving for the airport," he says, and it's confusing because I hear his voice not only through the phone. I turn and see him walking out of the house, suitcase in hand.

"Airport?" I ask. My heart sinks. "But… But why?"

"Wildfires," he responds. The Fire Authority asked all of us to come back."

"But you're on vacation," I say. Damn it, I'm going to cry.

He leans down and kisses me softly. "I'll try to come back after the fire. If not, I'll send for you."

"I'll come with you."

"No." he says sharply. "You stay here. I'll either come back or I'll send for you but you stay here. Do you understand?"

Well, what the hell am I supposed to do? Am I supposed to weep and beg? I've been preparing my whole life to be a mafia bride. I've been preparing for a husband who goes to jail for years. I can handle a firefighter.

At least until he drives away.

Then, I climb into my car, drive until I'm out of sight of his house, and cry like a baby.