Amore and Pinot Grigio - a Guido la Vespa Christmas Tale [Guido la Vespa] (BookStrand Publishing Mainstream) Read Online Free PDF

condom, lay down beside her and commanded her to put it on him. She had barely rolled it all the way down when he could no longer stand it. In one swift move he rolled on top of her, using a muscled thigh to pull her legs apart.
    “Put your legs around me,” he ordered, and as she complied, he entered her in one motion. He took her, slowly at first, taking her face in his hands and kissing her passionately, then speeding up his movements, ceasing the kissing and dropping his hand down between their two bodies, placing his fingers ever so gently on her clitoris, massaging it with swirling motions.
    “No, stop,” she cried out, “It’s too much, too much.”
    “That’s it, Sigrid, that’s it, bella , come for me, come for me.”
    She called his name as her spasms began, tightening and flexing around his hardness until he lost control. She removed his hand from between them, putting both arms around his back and pulling her close to him.
    When he finally finished, he collapsed, falling asleep on top of her and still inside of her. Sigrid lay awake, not wanting to ruin the moment, stroking his back and enjoying the feel of him, eventually falling asleep herself.
    And now awake again and alone in the bed, she thought, what do I do now?

Chapter Three
     
    Down the hallway, Sandro was having the same thought. What do I do now ? He was having some other thoughts as well. How do I get her out of here? What do I say to make it clear I’m not looking for something serious? Can it be done without hurting her? Why did women always have to make such a big deal out of sex? Will she make a scene? And why were they always so dramatic?
    She certainly was a heavy sleeper. The animal hospital had already called about Pinot Grigio and she hadn’t woken. He had had a shower and she hadn’t woken. The noisy Monday morning traffic of Rome was in full force and she hadn’t woken. The sounds of the coffee grinder and the great hiss and gurgle of the coffee maker hadn’t woken her. He had stared at her when he woke up, thinking she was very beautiful, different than what he had previously thought constituted beautiful. Pale, ethereal-looking, tall—most of his girlfriends had been short, earthy and voluptuous, dark women, including Flavia. And judging by Sigrid’s hair and clothes, she was not one to invest a lot of time and money on appearance. Natural, she was, like the Canadian wilderness, he imagined, having never been to Canada.
    Time to face her, Sandro thought grimly, walking toward the bedroom with two cups of coffee in hand. She was sitting up in bed, having put her panties and shirt back on. She was checking her phone for messages. “Buongiorno,” he said, giving her a kiss on the nose, as though she were an annoying young friend entrusted to his care, not an equal, not a lover. He handed her a cup of piping hot black coffee.
    “I didn’t know how you took it, so if you want milk or sugar, I can go get those for you.”
    “No, no, black is fine. No calories.” She smiled. Awkward, she thought.
    “You are slim. You could stand to take some kilos.”
    “Women love hearing that,” she said. “And I am sure my remaining weeks in Italy will help in that regard.” Goodness, I sound so stilted, she thought. My remaining weeks in Italy will help me in that regard? I sound like a visiting public official . Such passion with this man last night and now we’re all weird and formal with each other. “The food here is amazing. But I try to be careful, now that I’m over thirty. Weight doesn’t come off easily as one gets older.”
    “You look like a kid. I couldn’t believe it last night when you said you were over thirty.”
    Finally ! “Thanks, yes, I’ll be thirty-two in March.”
    “And not married?”
    “No,” she said indignantly. “But neither are you and you are how old?”
    “I haven’t said.”
    “I know, but how old are you?”
    “I’ll be thirty-four in May. But it’s different for men.”
    Sigrid