Salvatore Dalla

We arrived home, and I decided we should have dinner before heading to the bedroom. Once we were there, I knew we wouldn’t be leaving anytime soon. The smile on Angela’s face made it clear that she had noticed something had shifted between Amapola and me. She could read between the lines, and I believe that even before either of us admitted our feelings, she already knew.
“I’ll take a quick shower and meet you afterward,” Amapola said after we climbed the stairs and stopped in front of her bedroom door.
“Why don’t you shower with me?” I pulled her close, burying my face in her hair and trailing down to her neck, feeling her shiver beneath my touch.
“If that’s what you want, Mr. Salvatore, let me just grab some clothes.” She started to move away, but before she could step into her room, I grabbed her, spinning her around so her back pressed against my chest.
"Before you go, Amapola, I need to clear up a question that’s been bothering me all damn day."
“Yes?” she asked, her breath hitching as my warm breath and deep voice caressed her neck and ear, filled with desire.
My hands roamed over her body, starting at her thigh and moving up to her breasts. I slipped my hand into her neckline and squeezed one of her hardened nipples, making her moan. She, like me, was already overwhelmed with desire.
“What do you want to know?” she asked, her voice trembling.
“This damn skirt—if I pull down the zipper, will you be completely exposed, Amapola?” I asked as my hand drifted lower, teasing her over the indecently thin fabric she wore.
“Why don’t you test it out, Salvatore? See for yourself what you want to know,” she teased, making me want to pin her against the wall and take her right there. But I liked to draw out the tension, so I slid the zipper down slowly, revealing what I already suspected—the skirt parted on both sides, exposing her from her left thigh all the way to her right.
“Fuck, Amah, you know how hard it was for me all day just imagining how easily this skirt would leave you like this, ready for me to touch?” I slid my hand inside the fabric and squeezed her sex, feeling the lace of her panties.
“Oh, Salvatore,” she moaned when I pinched her clit. “I... I didn’t know. I didn’t mean to make you feel that way.”
Her hand gripped my erection, still trapped in my pants.
“Don’t lie to me, Amah. You knew exactly what you were doing, but I don’t mind. I spent the entire day thinking of all the ways I’m going to fuck you, and tonight, I’ll make sure to do them all. Don’t take too long, *principessa.*” I turned her around, pressing our lips together while my fingers continued to toy with her, resisting the urge to fully take her right then.
I let go of her, watching her body tremble slightly on her heels, weakened by desire. I helped her stay steady before leaving her by her bedroom door, heading to my own room without looking back. She’d need a few moments to recover from our little exchange, but I hoped she wouldn’t take too long to find me.
Once in my room, I went to the mini-fridge, grabbed a bottle of Chardonnay, placed it in a bucket of ice with two glasses, and made my way to the bathroom. I set everything on the edge of the jacuzzi and started filling it while shedding my clothes.
I poured the wine and settled into the perfectly heated water, letting my head rest against the edge and closing my eyes for a moment. I wanted to shut everything out, but my thoughts were constantly filled with Amapola. She was becoming everything to me.
“Salvatore?” Her soft voice brought me back, and I opened my eyes to see her standing nearby, dressed in a sheer white robe that barely concealed her perfect body.
“Come here,” I called, extending my hand. She took it willingly, and I watched as the delicate fabric slid from her body, leaving her completely exposed. Her dainty feet stepped into the bubbling water, followed by the rest of her.
Amapola straddled me, her legs on either side of my waist. My hands hungrily roamed her body, guided by her moans as our sexes met, even without penetration. The mere friction between us could have made me finish right then and there, but I held back.
I trailed my lips down to her breasts, biting and sucking her nipples until they were completely hardened. Her moans grew louder as I teased her, slipping my fingers into her and working on her clit with expert circular motions. I knew she was close to coming but wanted her to do so in my mouth.
“Sit here, mia Amah,” I said, lifting her and placing her on the edge of the tub. “Spread your legs for me.”
“Oh, Salvatore,” she moaned as my mouth closed around her, devouring her with hunger. I intensified the movements of my fingers inside her, hitting her G-spot while my tongue worked her sensitive clit.
I removed my fingers from her and forced my tongue deeper into her tight entrance, just enough to make her explode into a mind-blowing orgasm. Her entire body trembled as if she was convulsing, her moans turning into high-pitched screams.
Without waiting, I pulled her back into the jacuzzi and, aligning our bodies, thrust into her all at once. I could still feel the aftershocks of her climax, and it almost pushed me over the edge, but I held on, focusing all my attention on her as I guided Amapola to move at my will, my hands on her waist, taking all the pleasure she had to offer.

At times, I have her ride me slowly, savoring every inch of her, while at other moments, I quicken the pace, thrusting deeply. The sound of our pleasure—her moans, the rhythmic slapping of our bodies—fills the air, intoxicating us both.
Everything about Amapola was crafted perfectly to fill the empty spaces within me. She gave me her body, and in return, I gave her my soul. It was with this thought that we reached our climax together. Our breaths were erratic, our sweat mingling with the water, our pleasure dripping from her, and, most of all, my soul connecting with hers.
Reluctantly, I pulled out, placing her between my legs. I took the glass of wine and brought it to her lips, watching as the liquid spilled over her mouth. I captured each drop with my lips, savoring them. The wine had never tasted so sweet—it wasn’t just the rich flavor of the grapes but the unmistakable taste of love from my *mia Amah*.