Amapola Part 2

I placed the kit on a small footstool in front of the chair, carefully dragging it to the side, worried that the action might damage the floor, which was probably worth more than I had ever earned in my life.
Positioning myself between his legs, I gently removed the bandage on his shoulder with a cotton pad soaked in mineral oil. The doctor had mentioned that if it stayed dry, it wouldn't need changing today, only tomorrow. But the stubborn man had made it clear that a bath would be the first thing he’d do once he got home, so I was trying to be extra cautious not to worsen the wound. We were so close that I could feel his heavy breath against my chest, and if it weren't for the padded bra, he’d surely notice my hardened nipples.
When I finished with his shoulder, I discarded the cotton and soaked another in the same oil, kneeling between his legs to carefully touch the bandage on the left side of his stomach.
"Stop, Amapola," Salvatore growled when I began peeling off a small part of the adhesive.
"Oh mio Dio, did I hurt you?" I asked, worried, as I had been taking great care not to cause him any pain.
"No, Amapola, you didn’t hurt me. But seeing you like this, kneeling between my legs, is hard to handle," he said, leaving me momentarily speechless.
"Then don’t look at me, and I’ll finish my job as quickly as possible." I resumed my position, trying to be as fast as I could.
“Cáspita,” I heard him mutter, but I tried to ignore him. I finished the task and noticed that, though it was just a graze, it was deep. There would definitely be an unpleasant scar. Before standing up, I removed his shoes and socks.
"Done!" I exclaimed, standing up, followed by him.
"Grazie a Dio la tortura è finita."
"I wasn’t torturing you, I was helping you," I clarified my intention. "But you still need to take off your pants."
"Amapola." His voice was pure warning, but I was determined to finish what I had started. Before he could begin protesting, I reached for the belt holding his pants in place, but he quickly pushed my hands away. "Stop now, girl, enough with the games," he growled. "I’m a man, for fuck’s sake."
"First, I’m not playing, and second, yes, I know you're a man. I’d be disappointed if you weren’t," I tried to lighten the mood.
"Don’t provoke me." Salvatore pulled me close, and my body collided with his. He lowered his head, and for a moment, I thought he was going to kiss me—but he didn’t, and I felt... disappointed.
"I’m not trying to provoke you, Salvatore. Like I said, let me help you." Our breaths mingled with every word due to our closeness.
"By taking off my clothes? That’s how you want to help me."
"Yes, that’s how I’m going to help you. You’re not the first man I’ll undress, don’t worry," I said, trying to reassure him. I knew he would interpret it differently, but I didn’t need to mention that the other man I had undressed was my father—or did I?
"But you’re still just a girl," he said as he pulled away, clearly not liking what he’d heard.
"Maybe, but I’m not a child. I’m twenty-one, and I know exactly what I’m doing," I stated firmly.
"Then do it." He let his arms fall to his sides, and I reached for his belt without hesitation.
This time, my hands trembled with our proximity. I knew what he was thinking, but only I knew the truth—I was a virgin and completely inexperienced. The bulge I’d seen while kneeling between his legs was much bigger than my father’s. And the worst part was that, as I unzipped his pants, I saw that bulge grow even more.
My eyes widened, and I was thankful he couldn’t see them. It wasn’t as if I’d ever actually feel it inside me, but I couldn’t help wondering how any woman could handle all that. My God, I took my time sliding the pants down his legs, giving myself a chance to let the flush on my face fade.
"Aren’t you going to take off my underwear?"
"No, I think you can manage that on your own." I tried to sound confident, but inside, I was redder than a ripe tomato.
"Aren’t you going to leave the bathroom?" he asked, a smile playing on his lips as he stepped into the massive shower with dual heads.
"No, just like you stayed with me, I’ll stay here too. But don’t worry, I won’t look," I said, sitting in the chair where he’d been earlier.
"I wouldn’t mind if you did," he replied before turning on the water, and I avoided glancing in his direction, knowing full well I might actually keep my eyes on him if I did.
I took the opportunity to examine the place, steering clear of the mirrors, of course. If I saw him naked in all his glory, I’d betray my willpower. The place was stunning. The floor wasn’t white; the veins of the marble covering the entire floor and walls were golden, like threads of gold embedded in the stone. A counter spanned one of the walls with two sinks and golden faucets—real gold, I was sure of it. There were cabinets that I assumed stored his personal hygiene items, towels, and robes. Near the shower, where he was bathing, there was a jacuzzi that could easily fit eight to ten people. Other decorations were scattered throughout the room, and I was in awe of the beauty and luxury of the place. It was almost like a work of art.

"Amapola, can you step out for a moment?" His deep voice jolted me from my moment of admiration for the place.
"No, Salvatore, I can stay here. I'm not looking at you."
"I know you're not, but I need... relief," he explained.
"Oh, go ahead, I’m facing away from the toilet. And don’t worry about the smell, I’m used to it, you know..." I made a reference to the horrible places I’d cleaned while captive. "I’ve had to clean some pretty terrible places," I concluded, keeping my eyes fixed on the wall in front of me.
"That’s not the kind of relief I mean, Amapola," he said, and I choked, quickly standing up to leave as I realized what he meant. My God, the man wanted to masturbate, and me being there was just a bit too much.
"Can you grab me a towel before you go, please?" His request made me freeze. That was it—he wanted me to see him naked, and the worst part was that I wanted to see him too.
"Sure." I tried to stay calm as I went to the cabinet and opened it, just as I had suspected, the towels were there. Turning on my heels, I focused on his face as I walked toward him.
God help me, it was bigger than I had imagined. My eyes betrayed me, landing directly on his fully erect penis, pointing toward the ceiling. I hurried my pace, handed him the towel, and bolted out of the room, my heart racing as he remained impassive.
The moment I entered the bedroom, I ran and sat on his bed, trying to catch my breath. My God, the sight of that man completely naked—I was certain I would never forget it for the rest of my life.