Gelato and Desire

VIOLET

I never thought I’d say this, but I think I might actually be experiencing the most blissful sugar coma in existence. Over the past two weeks, Ryan has been whisking me away on countless dates and outings, each one sweeter and more extravagant than the last.

I never imagined he could be this perfect—this thoughtful, attentive boyfriend who anticipates my every need. But somehow, he’s managed to shatter every expectation I had, especially after he arranged a private meeting with my favorite author. That was the moment my heart fully surrendered, leaving me in a state of pure, euphoric disbelief.

“Why do you think he’s doing this, Lily?” I asked aloud, addressing the delicate bloom of a pink lily I’d crouched down to admire.

We were at the Giardino dell'Iris in Florence, an enchanting garden dedicated entirely to the city’s iconic flower. Beds of vibrant irises stretched out across the terraces, a kaleidoscope of colors dancing under the late afternoon sun. The garden overlooked the tranquil waters of the Arno River, the sunlight painting streaks of orange and gold across its glassy surface.

Sweat trickled down my temple, and I wiped it away with the back of my arm, my gaze fixed on the flowers. I reached out, my fingers brushing over the velvety petals of a deep lavender iris. “You don’t know either, huh?”

The stillness of the garden was interrupted by a familiar voice.

“Please don’t tell me you’re talking to flowers again.”

The sound sent a shiver down my spine, a familiar frisson of excitement sparking in my chest. I turned my head and found Ryan standing there, holding two ice creams. His shirt was slightly untucked, his usually neat hair tousled as though he’d raked his fingers through it one too many times.

I straightened and extended a hand toward him, feigning dramatic desperation. “Just what I needed.”

Ryan smirked, his eyes gleaming with amusement as he stepped closer and handed me one of the cones. “You’ve been busy having deep conversations with flowers. Figured you might need a break.”

I took the ice cream, the coolness of it instantly soothing against the heat of the day.

“Flowers are good listeners,” I shot back, taking a lick of the creamy pistachio gelato. “Unlike some people who think interrupting perfectly meaningful conversations is acceptable.”

“Meaningful, huh?” Ryan quirked an eyebrow, taking a bite of his own cone. “What did Lily over there have to say?”

“She’s sworn to secrecy.”

His chuckle was low and warm, the sound settling over me like a favorite melody. “Fair enough. But I hope you told her that I’m doing all this because I like seeing you happy.”

His words caught me off guard, as they often did. Ryan had a way of cutting straight to the heart of things, even when he cloaked it in playful banter.

I looked down at my gelato, suddenly shy under the weight of his gaze. “I didn’t tell her that,” I admitted softly. “But…thank you. For everything. It’s been…perfect.”

“Good,” Ryan murmured, his voice dropping into a deeper, quieter tone, one that seemed to reverberate through my very bones. “Because you deserve it, Violet.”

There was a raw sincerity in his words, a rare glimpse of vulnerability that made my chest tighten. 

My ice cream, half-melted and precariously dripping down the cone, became an afterthought. Ryan noticed before I could, his large hand gently taking it from mine and setting it safely on the stone ledge nearby. Even that small, thoughtful gesture made my heart stutter. How could someone so rough around the edges also have these fleeting moments of tenderness?

Freed from the worry of sticky fingers, I wrapped my arms around his waist and pressed myself into his chest. The solid warmth of him enveloped me, his familiar scent—a mix of cedarwood, faint cologne, and something inherently him—flooding my senses. My face buried in the fabric of his shirt, I let myself whisper the words I had been holding back all day.

“I love you so much, Ryan,” I said softly.  “You make me happy.”

He stilled for a moment, and when I tilted my head to look up at him, his expression had shifted. The wolfish grin that curved his lips held a promise—dangerous, intoxicating, and completely irresistible. He tilted my chin up with a single, rough finger, his thumb brushing over my jawline as if tracing a delicate map.

“Say that again,” he commanded yet playful enough to draw out a small smile from me.

“You make me happy,” I repeated obediently, my cheeks flushing.

“No,” he murmured, his grin widening. “The first part.”

I laughed softly “I love you so much,” I admitted again.

His dark eyes gleamed with something untamed, something that made my stomach tighten and my knees weak. “You do, huh?”

I tried to roll my eyes, though the fluttering in my chest betrayed my attempt at nonchalance. “Don’t get too cocky.”

“But that’s part of my charm,” he teased, his thumb now tracing slow, deliberate circles against my cheek. The contact sent tingles down my spine, a silent reminder of the power he held over me.

Before I could retort, his hand shifted, sliding to my throat. His fingers curled around the delicate column, not tightly enough to hurt but firmly enough to send a thrill rushing through me. My pulse jumped beneath his touch, my breaths coming faster as I stared up at him, completely at his mercy.

“Ryan…” I whispered, my voice barely audible as his free hand began its journey, slipping beneath the hem of my camisole. The rough pads of his fingers skated across my stomach, sending goosebumps rippling across my skin. His touch was electric, every movement deliberate and intoxicating as he moved higher, his hand finding the swell of my breasts.

The satin fabric of my bra offered little protection from the heat of his palm. When he twisted my nipple, the sensation shot through me, a mix of pleasure and pain that made my head fall back. A shudder tore through my body, and I bit my lip to keep from moaning too loudly.

“You love this, don’t you, Mouse?” he murmured, his voice rough and edged with hunger.

My body betrayed me before I could form words, arching into his touch, desperate for more. A gasp escaped me when his other hand found my neglected nipple, this time pinching harder. The sting brought tears to my eyes, yet I couldn’t bring myself to pull away. If anything, the ache between my thighs only deepened.

There’s something wrong with me. Because why else will I crave for something this chaotic?  But I didn’t care. With Ryan, everything wrong felt so exquisitely right.

“Tell me,” he demanded, his eyes burning with an intensity that made my heart stutter. “The day Luke almost kissed you—why didn’t you pull back?”

I blinked up at him, my hands trembling as they clung to his shirt. “I wasn’t yours then,” I signed shakily, each word an effort.

His grip on my throat tightened just slightly, enough to make my pulse spike. “Wrong answer,” he growled. “You were always mine, Violet. From the very start.”

His hand slid lower, his fingers hooking into the waistband of my shorts. With one swift motion, he tugged them down, my panties following suit until they pooled at my feet. His hand found my aching pussy, cupping me, pressing against the slick evidence of my arousal.

“What else did Luke try to do? Did he touch you here?” he asked, his voice a dangerous rumble.

“No,” I gasped, shaking my head fervently.

“Good,” he murmured, his lips curving into a smirk that sent another shiver down my spine. 

“Because you don’t like gentle, do you, my Mouse? You don’t want sweet whispers and soft touches. You want this—the rough, the raw, the completely fucked up.”

His hand came down sharply, delivering a stinging slap to my center that had me crying out. The pain radiated through me, sharp and fleeting, but it ignited a fire that burned even brighter. Tears pricked my eyes, but I didn’t push him away. I couldn’t.

“Bet you didn’t get this wet for him,” he said, his thumb brushing over my folds, spreading the evidence of my desire.

“Never,” I whispered

“That’s my girl.” He released my throat, his hands moving to unbuckle his belt. 

“Ryan, we can’t,” I protested weakly, glancing around.

The garden was secluded, but not completely private. “Someone might see.”

His grin turned wicked as he lifted me into his arms, my legs wrapping around his waist instinctively. “I won’t fuck you,” he promised, his voice dark and full of intent. “I just need to feel you.”

His cock, hard and warm, slid against my folds, the friction sending sparks flying through me. I clung to him, my nails digging into his shoulders as he moved against me with a deliberate rhythm. The pressure building in my core was almost unbearable, each pass over my clit driving me closer to the edge.

“Fuck, Violet,” he groaned, his voice rough and ragged. “You feel so good.”

The world around us faded, the tension between us consuming everything else. Just when I thought I'd come from the constant friction on my pussy , he stilled, his forehead resting against mine.

“Wait,” he said, a sly smile curving his lips. “I’ve got one more surprise for you today.”

Breathless and dazed, I blinked up at him. “Another one?” I asked. “Ryan, you’re going to spoil me rotten.”

“That’s the plan,” he said with a grin, reaching for the forgotten ice cream. “But first, finish this. You’ll need your energy for later.”

Laughing softly, I took the cone from him, the sweetness melting on my tongue.

“Wait here I'd be right back”

He walked out of the garden  and for once, I didn’t question the happiness that filled me. I let it wash over me, savoring the fleeting perfection of the moment—both in the gelato and in the man by my side.