Florence night

VIOLET

The humid air of Florence hit me like a soft wave the moment we stepped out of the airport. It was warmer than I expected for late summer, but not unpleasant. The sun hung low on the horizon, casting a golden glow over the ancient city. People bustled around us, a mix of tourists with wide eyes and locals who moved with the relaxed confidence of belonging.

I adjusted the strap of my bag on my shoulder, still processing the fact that we were really here. Italy. Florence, to be specific. Everything felt surreal, like I’d been plucked from the chaos of my life and dropped into another world.

Ryan walked a few paces ahead, his phone pressed to his ear as he spoke in low, clipped tones. His presence was magnetic, as always—commanding without even trying. The sharp line of his jaw tightened as he spoke, his expression unreadable. He had handled every detail of this trip, from the flight arrangements to the apartment where we’d be staying. All I’d had to do was follow him, which was just as well since my mind had been a foggy mess since we left Boston.

I glanced down at my hands, clutching my passport and boarding pass like lifelines. How had we gotten here? The last 48 hours were a blur—tense conversations, stolen moments, and Ryan’s insistence that he’s got everything handled which I believed given that I hadn’t seen anyone we know popped up behind us and huddled us back to New York.

Talking about that, mom and my aunt had called relentlessly and I hadn’t picked their calls nor replied that texts— at least not now. At some point, I had my phone turned off same with Ryan. A part of me felt bad, for doing this but the other part which was so much in love with Ryan and would do anything for him surpassed it. 

“It’s here” Ryan’s voice broke through my train of thoughts and I glance up to see a sleek black car pulled up to the curb, and Ryan motioned for me to follow him. He opened the door for me, his hand brushing my lower back as I slid into the cool leather seat. The driver greeted us in Italian, and I offered a small smile in return, feeling out of place in a way I couldn’t quite articulate.

Ryan settled in beside me, his phone finally tucked away, and the car pulled into traffic. Florence unfolded around us like a living postcard—narrow cobblestone streets, pastel buildings with shuttered windows, and flower boxes spilling over with vibrant blooms. Every corner seemed to hum with history, the kind you could almost feel in the air.

“You okay?” Ryan’s voice broke through my thoughts.

I turned to find him watching me, his brows furrowed in concern. It was one of those rare moments where his guard slipped, and I could see the boy beneath the man—the one who cared more than he let on.

“You seem so familiar with this place” I said,breaking the heavy silence that stretched between us.

“Yeah, I came here earlier this year after I heard the news about my dad getting remarried” He replied with a smile I couldn’t quite decipher.

I didn’t need him to elaborate. I knew what he meant—his dad’s remarriage, my mom’s involvement, the complicated web of emotions we’d both been thrown into. It then dawned on me that I never asked how he truly felt about it, though I’d always sensed his resentment ran deeper than mine.

“I needed to get away, clear my head. This place…” His voice trailed off as he looked out the window. “It helped.”

I studied him, noticing the way his shoulders relaxed slightly as he spoke. 

“Do you regret it? Our parents’ marriage, I mean,” I asked softly, my voice barely above a whisper.

He turned back to me, his eyes meeting mine. “Not anymore,” he said, his voice steady. “If it hadn’t happened, we wouldn’t have found each other. And now? I’m glad it did.”

The sincerity in his words made my chest tighten. He reached over, his hand warm as it settled over mine. I squeezed his hand gently, offering a small smile in returned 

“We’ll be fine here. Pending the time our parent get over this shit, we’d be good” He reassured 

“I nodded, but the lump in my throat didn’t go away. Good. That word felt foreign, almost unattainable after everything that had happened.

The car slowed as we approached a tall building tucked away on a quiet street. It wasn’t grand or ostentatious, but it had an understated charm—earthy tones, ivy climbing its walls, and a small wrought-iron gate at the entrance.

“This is it,” Ryan said, stepping out of the car and grabbing our bags from the trunk.

I followed him up the stone steps, my heart pounding with nerves and something I couldn’t quite name. He unlocked the door and pushed it open, revealing an apartment that was both modern and rustic. The living room was spacious, with exposed wooden beams on the ceiling and a large window that offered a breathtaking view of the city. The furnishings were simple but elegant—a plush cream-colored sofa, a wooden coffee table, and shelves lined with books.

“Wow” I mouthed as I take in the sight. “It’s so nice” my eyes gleamed with admiration.

“I got it when I first came” He shrugged nonchalantly. 

I flinched slightly at the statement, surprised but not entirely. It might have seemed odd for a recent high school graduate to own a place like this, but this was Ryan Jenkins. Everything about him defied convention.

Of course, he had this place.

Hours passed as we unpacked, the initial rush of settling in gradually giving way to a comforting rhythm. The quiet hum of normalcy wrapped around us.

Later,we ordered pasta for dinner, too drained from the long journey to even think about cooking. The simplicity of the meal felt grounding, a small indulgence in the middle of so much change. Once we’d finished eating, exhaustion took over, and we decided to call it a nigh

It felt so weird. Living in the same house with him was different but living in “our” house, sharing the same bed feels like something married couples and suddenly the prospect of marriage with Ryan wasn’t as scary as I thought it’d be.

But I wasn’t going to be one of those recent high school graduate who rushed into the thoughts of marriage when there is still college and career ahead of them, so I shoved the image of little green eyed babies into the back of my mind as I snuggled into his arms.

“What are you thinking?” Ryan asked,his breath hot against my skin but I didn’t reply,so I let myself savour the warmth of his skin. I missed this so much—I miss him.

“You know,” he began, his lips brushing my cheek, trailing down to my neck. “I have plenty of plans for us.” His voice was low, a husky promise. “But I think we should start here.”

Heat surged through me at his words, the underlying meaning clear. Instead of answering directly, I chose to tease him.

“How so?” I asked, my voice a soft murmur, barely controlled.

Ryan’s grin turned wicked. “It’s our first night here. Let’s make it count.”

Before I could think it further, he pulled me in, his lips crashing against mine. It wasn’t slow or tender; it was urgent, almost desperate. My heart raced, my entire body reacting to the intensity of the kiss, the heat of his touch.

A moan slipped from my lips but the sound was swallowed by his mouth. My mind spun, lost in the heady mix of desire and euphoria, my body humming with need.

His hands were everywhere,he pulled off my shirt and I shivered, my skin pebbling from a mix of desire and cold. I wasn’t wearing a bra, my nipples were so hard sending jolt of heat straight to my core. 

Ryan broke the kiss, his lips curling into a smile as he found the racing beat of my pulse. He trailed his mouth down my throat, his tongue traced the curve of my neck, sending shivers through me as he moved lower, his hands following the path of his lips.

His mouth continued its journey down

Down

Down

Slow and deliberate, until his lips closed around my nipple, pulling and teasing with a light bite acrosss the sensitive tip.

This time, I gasped— my moan closer to a stifled cry. My fingers tangled in his hair, both holding on and dragging him close as he continued teasing me.

I was so wet, I could feel my underwear getting soaked,my body ached for more and  my legs instinctively moving to find some friction. But before I could fully process it, Ryan spun me around, so I was facing the mirror

My reflection stared back at me, disheveled, breathless, and flushed, the image only heightening the intensity of the moment.

“Bend over,” Ryan's voice was rough, commanding. My body moved instinctively as I edged my legs apart. 

Ryan suddenly stood from the bed and confusion overwhelmed me which soon dissipated when he walked towards the sound system and turned it on. 

The familiar strains of Lost in the Fire by The Weeknd weaved through the air. The lyrics was so hauntingly fitting to the image of me bending on the bed,my legs spread wide, my breast bared and my thighs slicked with my juices.

“The music’s for the neighbors,” Ryan murmured against my ear.  “Wouldn’t want them to hear us.”

His fingers hooked into my underwear, pulling it down swiftly, and I gasped as he exposed the evidence of my arousal. 

“You’re dripping,” he muttered, his voice thick with desire as his finger traced the wetness. A whimper escaped me, my body reacting to his touch.

Ryan chuckled, low and teasing. “Does this turn you on, mouse? Getting bent over and played with while you wait for my cock?”

The words hit me like a spark, and I answered without hesitation. “Yes.”

His smile was wicked, his eyes glinting with satisfaction. “Not so innocent anymore Violet but You’ll have to wait a bit longer,” he said, his hand leaving me too soon, and I whimpered in protest. He knelt between my legs, the promise in his eyes sending a shiver down my spine. “But I’ll make it worth your while.”

His tongue, hot and slick, traced the sensitive skin where I needed him most, and the world splintered into nothing but sensation.