15. Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Fifteen

I did it.

Holy mother of all the tiny cheese crackers, I did it! I drove through Florence alone and arrived at Donvino's place with no incidents or accidents. I did get beeped at once by an impatient driver when I paused to try to decipher what Google Maps was telling me. Instead of taking it as an insult, I opted to think of it as a toot of honor. My first Firenze honk!

I circled his block a few times, finally giving up being close to his door. Instead, I pulled up behind a row of bins for trash, recycles, and other such things. Easing out of my car, I wiggled between the door of the green and white Bianchina and the last bin. Perhaps I had parked a bit too close, but there was literally not one single place to park. Hoping I didn't get a ticket of some sort, I made my way to Donvino's home, stopping at a small deli to pick up a bottle of red wine, then I ducked into a bakery to grab a loaf of Tuscan bread still warm from the oven.

Mom always said that you should never show up at a person's home without gifts. She never mentioned if said gifts would smooth out a lover's tiff. If a tiff was what one person cold-shouldering the other could be termed.

I took in the sights and sounds of the city as I neared his home. It was encouraging to see the Suzuki parked in a skinny spot amid several other motorbikes. My stomach was tender. I hoped we could sort things out. He was the first man that I'd ever been this drawn to on an emotional as well as physical level. I found the same sleepy orange cat curled up around the same wilted tomato plant. The cat looked fat and healthy, the tomato plant not so much. I rang the bell next to his name, nervously chewing on the inside of my cheek.

"It's you," I heard Donvino say. I glanced up to see him leaning out of his window far above.

"Yes, it's me." I held up the wine and bread. "Please, can we talk? I think we've come to cross odds as they say."

"Who says this?"

I blinked skyward, unable to see his face well as the sun was right in my eyes. "The British maybe? I don't know. It sounds British."

He stayed quiet, looking down on me as I held food and drink over my head, praying he'd be a big enough man to—

"Let me ring you in," he called down and then disappeared.

A massive sigh of relief billowed my cheeks. I jogged into the shady foyer, taking in the smell of cigarette smoke before climbing to the third floor, the temperature rising with each step higher. Donvino stood in his doorway, tense but so incredibly gorgeous I found it hard to breathe.

"Buongiorno," I chanced to say, hoping to lift the dark vibe clinging to the man. "I think we need to talk."

He filled the door, shoulders bare and wide, chest slick with sweat, lower half clad in only thin cotton shorts that left little to the imagination. My lips were suddenly dry. "If you want. If not, then I'll just leave this sitting here on your step."

"How did you come?"

I tipped my head in confusion. "I drove."

His dark brows flew to his hairline. "You drove to me?"

"I did. That's how badly I wanted to speak to you. Can we please do this inside?" I asked, sniffing the air and then wrinkling my nose as the stink of cigarette smoke grew stronger. Peeking downward, I saw a middle-aged woman in pink shorts and a crop top, with a smoke in her hand, staring up at me. She saw me staring, flicked her ashes on the step, and then disappeared. "That was rude."

"Come in," Donvino said, stepping back into his apartment to allow me to enter. It all looked the same, yet it felt much different than it had when I'd been here last. The chilliness that permeated the room sadly didn't make it any cooler. The door closed behind me. "She is my neighbor, smokes too much, and is always saying for me to bring her food from work."

"Do you?" I placed the wine and bread on the bed and divested myself of my vest. Ha! Okay, I still had my wittiness, even though my chest was as tight as a kettledrum. Being this close and yet so far away from Donvino hurt like a broken toe.

"Sometimes. She is not well mentally," he replied, his sight locked on me as I stripped down to only my shorts. He might be upset with me but he still lusted after me. That was obvious to someone as well-versed in picking up the signs as I was.

"Donvino," I opened with, pulling his gaze from my belly to my face. He spun from me, wine in hand, to go paw through the dishes piled in the sink. Sighing, I stepped closer, something that was easy to do as the place was so small you could cross it in twenty steps. Ten if you had long legs like the man twisting a corkscrew on the wine bottle. "I know that things have gotten weird between us…"

"Weird? No, it's no weird." The cork came free with a loud pop. He turned to face me, hurt deeply etched into his face. "You go off to Venice to be with Ricardo. That is what you should do, be with a man who is rich like you." He took a drink, a long pull that emptied a good quarter of the bottle.

I reached up to jerk it from his lips. "Don't be a hog." I swilled back a quarter, swiped my mouth with the back of my hand, and then slammed the bottle to the counter with vigor. "Also, don't be jumping to conclusions."

"I'm not jumping to anything. I hear that you are there with him. He is good for you. He is what you need."

"Okay, I am sick and tired of people telling me what is good for me!" I shouted so loudly he drew back in surprise. "My father tells me what to do, and my aunt, my tutor, even the damn cat has started bossing me around! Wake up and give me some salmon flakes, Arlo! Come pet me, Arlo! And okay, sure, I don't mind Lucia being bossy because she is adorable but I really resent the rest of the world doing it so please stop saying Ricardo is the man I should be with when it should be pretty fucking obvious that I want to be here with you !"

I stood there panting, hands in fists at my sides, glowering up at the oaf. His shock shifted into something far softer, his eyes closing gently for a second, the tension in his wide shoulders leeching away. He mumbled something in Italian.

"You're a dumb carrot?" I asked. He snorted once but then began to chuckle. The frustration chugged through my veins like a runaway train slowed, slowly being replaced with two emotions that were warring with each other to be top of the heap. Humor, because the man had an infectious laugh and desire because I wanted nothing more in the world than to climb him like the lemon trees in my great-aunt's garden.

"Yes, I am a dumb carrot. The dumbest carrot in Italy."

"Huh, I was right. I guess my lessons are paying off. Can I do something?"

"Sì, yes, of course."

I launched myself at him, knowing he could catch me with ease. My mouth crashed over his, my tongue slipping in to taste the heady wine lingering on his tongue. His hands cradled my ass as I linked my ankles behind his lower back.

His tongue glided over mine, ramping up our passion, until he broke the kiss and eased me up to sit on his tiny slab of Formica. My spine shoved the coffeemaker into the wall. I chased his lips, but he was keeping a good foot between his lips and mine.

"We should finish our talk," he said, his voice raspy with want. My cock wanted nothing to do with talking unless it was dirty talk. I doubted that was what Donvino had in mind, though. I kept touching him as he worked at gathering himself, stroking his stubbly cheeks, massaging his shoulders…anything to keep contact. "Both of us are bad at this thing."

That pulled my attention to how lovely the skin over his collarbones was. "Bad?"

He nodded, not moving away but not easing closer. "Bad yes. I was jealous of Ricardo, so much so that I was willing to let him have you."

"Excuse me, Signor Macho Man, but I decide who has me, not you, not some governmental heartthrob, not my aunt or my father or anyone else on the planet. Me." I tapped my chest. "I decide, so you can stop trying to hand me off to some other guy like a prized goose. Capito?"

He smiled sheepishly. It was a good look for him. Then again, any expression was a good look on him.

"Yes, I understand." He ducked his head for a moment, lifted it, and then cupped my face with a large hand, his thumb coming to rest on my lower lip. "I've never done this before."

I placed my hand back on his chest, enjoying the feel of him under my finger pads. "Define this."

"This for being with a man in more than a sneaky sexing up." He rubbed his rough thumb over my lip. My dick was leaking into my briefs, the wet spot becoming larger with each passing moment. "I have hiding…been hiding being gay for so long. I am sorry for being so crazy in the head over things. I've never cared for a man so large before."

I patted his pectorals, leaned in, and stole a gentle kiss. "I understand. And to be honest, I've never felt for a guy like I feel for you. I think I might have been acting clingy. Angry that you didn't text me after you failed to qualify."

"Uh, yes, that was unpleasant." His eyes grew sad. "I so want to make my father proud, but I fail all the time. I'm not a good rower, I'm omosessuale. Gay, I am gay," he clarified when I made a confused face. "I was sick at myself for being poor, for being queer, and so when I see you with Ricardo I feel sicker at myself, about myself, and then it goes worse. I am like a turtle Bianca says, when I suck my head then legs into my shell after making snapping faces at those who only want to feed me lettuce."

"Oh you silly, sentimental turtle," I cooed, letting my forehead come to rest on his chin for a moment as I parsed. "Okay," I said, then lifted my head to stare into his deep brown gaze. "You have nothing to be jealous of when it comes to Ricardo. I do not want him, I want you, which is why I'm sitting here on your counter with a massive erection." His eyes darted down to where my dick was trying to bust through my zipper. When his gaze returned from my crotch, his eyes were even hotter. "So, that's that. No more worrying about the undersecretary. As for him having lots of cash and you having less, who cares?"

"I care, my family cares, everyone cares, Arlo."

"Nope, not everyone. I don't give two farts about money." He cocked an eyebrow. "Okay, let me amend that." I was sitting here in designer shorts, after all. "I do care, obviously, and I do like money, a lot. We all do, but a person having it or not, does not nor did it ever, figure into my attraction to a man. And now… well, now I don't have any money either. I'm making working man wages for a year, then probably will be living on a meager stipend since I have no plans of running the fucking company. Dad and Aunt Ginerva can cut me off. I don't care. I'll move in here with you and we'll make trunks! Yes, and when we're selling scads of trunks, we'll buy you a new scull and you can compete and make the Olympic team and all of our dreams will be fulfilled!"

He studied me intently, his expression inscrutable. "I'm not so sure about most of my dreams, Arlo, but there was one…I pray every day for a man to call my own." My damn eyes welled up. "I dream of that, and maybe I think you are here for me."

"I am, I am here for you to call your own!" I wiggled off the counter, back into his arms, linking my hands behind his neck and then levering my lips to his. The kiss was earth-shattering. "I'm not good at this either. I'm super possessive, it seems. I'm scared people will leave me, so I either shut them off or demand they're always within reach so I can hold onto them so they cannot disappear."

"We are big messes," he whispered over my lips before claiming my mouth so deeply and thoroughly that I feared I might just pass out.

"The hugest messes. Please have patience with me. I promise I'll try to be less…oh gods, that's lovely," I mewled as he nipped a line down my neck to a tender spot where my shoulder met my throat. He suckled a mark onto my flesh. I knew it…could feel the tenderness blossoming but didn't give one shit. Nor did I care when he plunked me back on the counter, pulling free of my arms to peel my clothes off me. I wiggled free as best as I could to help him. My shirt flew over his head. A button on my shorts pinged off the old floral paper covering the kitchen walls. My underwear, sexy as it was, disappeared as if by magic. With a gentle nudge to my shoulder, I laid down, using my arms to clear whatever was on the counter to the floor save the coffeemaker. That I draped my leg over, opening myself up to his heated gaze.

"Are you hungry?" I asked as I took my cock in hand. "I have some meat for you," I teased and gave my dick a tug.

"Hungry yes, but thirsty most," he replied gruffly, reaching for the bottle of wine that I'd brought. Hands shaking, he freed the cork, eyed me as if I were a buffet, and began to drizzle red wine over me. I giggled madly as the liquid ran down over my sides and puddled on my abdomen. "So thirsty," he growled, moving between one leg resting on the coffeemaker and the other dangling off the side of the counter. Flesh met flesh. Oh how lovely! He'd shucked his shorts. Now it was all us, all skin and wine and passion. He lowered his head to lick at the wine on my nipples, wringing a short squeal of pleasure from me as he cleaned one tiny nub and then the other before lapping his way down to my navel. There he drank like a man crossing the Sahara. I tucked my calf behind his head. He lifted his head. His stubbly chin dripped with wine. Eyes smoldering, he licked his lips, took the bottle, and doused my cock. I gasped as the liquid coated my balls and pucker. I cried out as he took me into his mouth. His technique needed work, but Lord above his love of dick could not be denied. He sucked and tongued my cock, then my balls, and then bent me nearly in half to spear my hole with his curled tongue.

I flailed at the counter and wall, knocking the loaf of bread into the coffeemaker, uncaring if it went to the floor or into the sink or who knew where. Right now, I had no desire for bread. All I wanted was more of this divine adoration. When he finally returned his attention to my cock, I was teetering on the brink of orgasm.

"I love your body," he purred hungrily, falling on my prick once more, pulling moans from deep within me.

"I'm too close," I panted. He pulled off, wiped a hand across his mouth, and hoisted me from the counter as if I weighed the same as the fresh loaf of Tuscan bread that was resting on the edge of the Formica. "I want you in me."

"You will have that," he promised, toting me to the bed and tumbling into the twisted covers with me, his hips grinding down on me as we enjoyed each other's mouths. "Let me find what we need. Do not move from me."

He eased to the left, found the rickety nightstand, and returned with condoms and lube in hand. We wasted no time. I rolled the condom over his prick and coated him with slick. Then I laid flat on the bed, threw my legs over his shoulders, and wet my lips.

"Here I am, love me," I whispered, opening my arms to him. He eased into me, no stopping or slowing, just one long press that made me yelp and shudder then groan. The pressure was everything. Everything. As was the weight of him on me, his big body blocking out most of what I could see, not that I wanted to look at anything other than Donvino. His eyes glowed with devotion and fire, dark pools that held little mysteries. The man was not one for suppressed emotions or secrets. What he felt showed, and it made me tremble to see such exaltation caressing me as he moved within me. It was nothing that I had ever dealt with before. I'd fucked a shit ton of men, more than I wished to count or could name. Hell, most I couldn't name if my life hung in the balance. Nary a one of them had gazed at me with anything other than pure lust, and while that was what I thought I wanted now…

Now I was questioning everything. I placed my hands on his shoulders. He grunted as I tightened around his shaft. I arched up when he went deeper. Rolling his hips, he ground into me so far I was sure I might blackout from the pleasure. His cockhead hit my prostate. Stars exploded around his head. Was I having a religious experience? Then my cock spewed between us, coating his hairy chest and my bare one, my eyes closing as my own personal rapture swept over me. Donvino thrust once more, driving deeper still, his cock pulsing as he filled the condom. His head dropped to my shoulder. I cooed softly, rubbing my fingers into his damp hair, turning my head to drop tiny kisses to his sweaty neck. He rolled his head, capturing my mouth as he shivered while his body cooled.

Neither of us was cold. Not by a long shot, but we still clung to each other, bodies shaking slightly, as we drifted from the heavens back to his stuffy little room on the third floor.

"And to think I didn't want to come to Florence." I sighed, then pouted as he eased off me, his cock sliding out, and sat back on his heels to stare down at me. The sounds and smells of the world outside this little flat began to creep back in as we took a moment to study each other just as one would on one of those massive oils hanging on the walls of the Accademia Gallery.

"I am glad you come," he softly said, placing a hand on my fluttery tummy. "I will do my best not to be a jealous idiota."

I put my smaller hand over his and pulled our clasped hands to rest on my thumping heart. "And I will do my best not to be a clingy idiota."

That made him smile. "Bread and wine now?"

"Is there any wine left?" We both glanced out at the food area where the empty bottle lay on its side.

"Seems no. I will go get more. Stay here, please, in my bed, just like this with your skin hot from our loving?"

"Sì, rimarrò." Yes, I will stay. At least I think that was what I said. Donvino stole a fast kiss and streaked into the closet-sized bath where I heard him washing and brushing his teeth before darting out in shorts and a tank top of pale blue with a washcloth in hand.

"You stay. I will go get wine." He wiped my belly, kissed my knee, and then ran out the door. I sighed dreamily, wiped up the mess on my stomach, and dropped the cloth to the threadbare carpet. Moving to my side, I let the fan blow hot air over my back as I let my eyes close, Firenze bustling along as it did just outside that small window. Sated, I fell asleep, coming awake when someone placed a kiss on the nape of my sweaty neck. I smiled at the wall, rolled to my back, and reached out to the man holding the wine, the bread, and I strongly suspected with no small amount of terror, my heart.