"Hmm." I responded, pretending to think about my response. But I already knew I was going to lie, I was just trying to come up with a reasonable lie. Something that'd make him not ask again, but also something that wouldn't make him more curious.
But then I thought about just telling him the truth. And if he ran now than all the better, right? No hurt. I mean, I'd probably get my feelings hurt if he rejected me, and I'd probably be embarrassed too. But my feelings being hurt and being embarrassed, over my heart being broken, was something I'd prefer any day of the week. For the rest of my life.
He shifted under me impatiently. "I'm not... fond of them." I replied.
He raised his perfectly shaped eyebrow in questioning, "Because?" He asked, dragging the word out when I continued to stay silent.
I rolled my eyes, "I'm a mother, Dante. I went from a C-cup to a double D when I was pregnant with my son."
"And that bothers you because?" His confused expression was the clone of adorable.
I let out a huff of breath, "Because they have stretch marks and they aren't as perky as they once were."
"Yes, I understand that. But that comes with being a mother, no?"
I leaned my head side to side, "Yes and no. Some women don't get stretch marks at all." I answered.
"And you think those women are lucky?" He asked, using air quotes around the word lucky?
"Well, yes actually. The got the joy of having children without ruining their bodies."
He shifted beneath me, turning his head to the side and lifting his chest to get a look at my face. "You think your son ruined your body, no?"
Flustered I replied, "Well now you're making me sound like I regret him or something. Which I don't. I wouldn't trade my son for anything in the world. I love Julian, don't get me wrong. I just wish being pregnant hadn't made my breast look like cow utters. You know?"
He snickered. "Cow utters you say? I don't particularly believe you."
I nodded, "Well, its true, and i'm not the only one who thinks so either." I accidentally let that little tid-bit slip. I wasn't really the type of person to talk about my past or my troubles really, and I definitely never let shit slip. But something about Dante made me feel comfortable. Maybe even too comfortable. If I do show him he'd probably laugh, or maybe he'd try and play it off, like they weren't hideous, then promise to call me the next night and I'd never hear a word from him again. He seems more like the quietly-run-and-never-return type, now that I really think about it. But If he did then so be it, right? What was that song verse? "If you love me, then thank you, if you hate me, then fuck you.' Sounds like it applies to this situation.
He stiffened "Who exactly agrees with you on this matter, Mia?"
I involuntarily mocked his stiffness, "It honestly doesn't matter. The fact of the matter is, they used to be perfect, and now they're not. That's hard to get used too."
He nodded, "Sure, I can understand that. But I also think our biggest flaw finders are ourselves. They are probably not even close to the way you describe them. And you Ex-Husband," He shrugged, then added, "È uno stronzo."
I wasn't exactly sure what that meant but, I knew it was some sort of insult. His nonchalance about it was sexy, and -like most things Dante did- I was not so surprisingly turned on by it. The power emitting from his every pour was more than a turn on. I hadn't actually expected something like that to turn me on, Logan was similar to that, but Logan gained it form praying on the weak, smaller minded people... Like me. At least when it came to him. groveling wasn't something I was used to doing, cowering from someone had never been something I would have normally done. But, Logan seemed to find every weak point inside, dragging it out and using it against me. Repeatedly.
Although Dante was power personified he was also compassionate. I didn't know him very well, but I could tell by the way he stroked my hair when I rested on his shoulder, or drew small patterns on my arm, or even by the way he'd randomly kiss my forehead when he'd listen to me ramble on and on. If I were being honest I was more than freaking out about how fast things were moving with him, but at the same time I couldn't get enough of the superb attention that I hadn't gotten since... well, forever.
I tried not to think about him being an ex porn star, my poor brain could only handle so much at once and I was simply enjoying myself too much to think about the negative things. But I know that I could only use that strategy for so long before it came back to haunt me. And things that you put on the back shelf always came back to haunt you. Some things were just unambiguously unavoidable. But, I was trying my damnedest to live in the moment, be spontaneous. We'll see how long that last.
"What are you thinking about?" He asked.
"Do you really even want to know? Or is that just one of those questions men just ask to fill the silence?" I countered.
He sighed, " I really want to know, Mia."
I'd never actually been asked that question before. "Just thinking about Julian, you?" I lied.
"Same actually." He replied, sounding a little surprised.
I was probably even more surprised than he was, but I couldn't keep the stupidly satisfied grin off my face. "Why?"
"Just thinking about how much he looks like you. Gemelli."
stupidly satisfied was gone, and now I was panicking, "When did you meet him?"
"I didn't, but you had thousands of pictures of him all over your home." He said, without missing a beat. "Cute kid." He added.
I rolled atop his chest, resting my chin on my crossed arms, smiling now like a fool. "What?" He asked, with a smile just as big as mine.
"Oh you know," I kissed his luscious lips, hard. He quickly responded, caressing the outer part of my bottom lip, his wet, warm tongue sending shivers all the way down below. Just one kiss and I was soaking. What the hell is up with that? I opened, letting his tongue slip past, and into my mouth. We toyed with each other for what seemed like centuries but still not nearly enough. The kiss swiftly became heated when he slipped his big hands up behind me and squeezed my asscheeks. I involuntarily shivered, and I highly doubt that got passed him, because his cock twitched against my stomach. I was so very thankful I hadn't been standing because every bone in my body felt like jelly at this point. Once again my entire body felt like I'd been standing too close to the sun.
We both pulled away for air, panting like dogs in a hot car, or after a long run.
"Dante?" I whispered, not even really sure what I was asking for.
"Shh, silenziosa." He murmured as he flipped me over, now holding himself up on his forearms, my head resting on the bed between them. Now, I was up to date with my brain, knowing precisely what I had been asking when I'd said his name. The fact that my mind and body knew exactly what I wanted before I'd even caught on, was more than a little nerve wracking. But... living in the moment here.
He bent down and kissed my neck, opened mouthed kisses, his tongue stroking a sensitive spot just below my ear and I couldn't help the soft moan that escaped my lips. My arms had goose-bumps. He dipped lower, my nerves on a fine wire as he looked up into my eyes, begging for permission, I gave a nod, letting him know he could undo the front clasp of my bra. once he set my breast free from their imprisonment he leaned back, causing the nerves swelling in my stomach to be even more haywire under his scrutiny. He starred at them, his face something I couldn't rightly read. I quickly tried to cover them up, "See, I told you..." I stared but was interrupted by his grunt, "Shut up, Mia." Then he sucked a hard nipple into his warm mouth, flicking it, nibbling it. My back arched off the bed, silently asking for more. He cupped both breast in the palms of his big hands, squeezing them gently. Once he was done with one nipple he moved to the other, delivering the same wicked treatment and then kissed and licked between them, squashing them against his slightly scruffy face. He made soft grunts, but I wasn't exactly sure what that meant either. But I was hoping it was something positive. "Cosí fottutamente deliziosa!"
I virtually screamed "WHAT THE HELL DOES THAT MEAN?' But he continued his sweet torture, jiggling them in his hands as he came up for air. "Have they ever been f*cked, Mia?" He asked. I shook my head shyly. "No."
"May I?"
I thought about it for a bit. I'd seen it done once on the internet, but I'd never really had an interest in it. My "no" was cut short by his, "Per favore" I knew enough spanish to know that it probably meant the same in Italian, and I briskly gave in. I rolled my eyes. But he know it was a yes-fine-just-get-it-over-with roll of the eyes. The look of pure excitement flooding his made my stomach fill with thousands of those little butterflies or maybe it was the dendrite? Who knew. He skipped of the bed so fast I hadn't known what he was doing until he pulled me to the side edge of the bed, and stood on either side of my head. Giving me a face full of his balls. He was so immodest, and I was so turned on by it. "Push them together, bellissima" He said as he took my hands and helped me smash my breast together. I was too distracted by the sight of his heavy sac so close to my face to even realize what he had done. Then, I watched him grab his hard member with his right hand, placing the left palm on the bed beside my head for support, he dipped his knees and slowly pushed through my smashed breast, his balls closer to my face with each thrust. The grunts and groans from him hadn't even registered because I was too busy debating whether or not to stick my tongue out and just lick his heavy, hairless scrotum. I'd always secretly like large balls. Something about the size screamed macho to me, and I loved It.
The kinky side of my brain won out. I flicked my tongue out, and when he thrusted again I licked him. He paused as soon as he felt it, and I gently sucked one of his balls into my mouth. He let out a long manly moan, my pussy clenching at the sound. This is by far the dirtiest thing I've ever done, and I have yet to feel embarrassed about it. It could have been the fact that his index and middle fingers were deep inside my wetness, or the pad of this thumb working my clit over, or maybe I was just simply distracted by both, enough to make me completely feel no shame what-so-ever for the ball sucking I was delivering. Anyhow, I couldn't say that I wasn't enjoying what I was doing and getting done.
He worked those two relentless fingers inside me, my impending release coming quicker than it had ever come before -at least from two fingers- but I was too close to that rapturous edge that I couldn't be as astounded as I normally would have. His clemency was just as quick as mine, his hot come shooting out onto my chest and stomach.
Lying on the side edge of the bed, my head twisting up to look at him, I surprisingly still hadn't felt any self-disgust even as he looked me in the eye, "E 'stato caldo!" Caldo, that meant hot right?
Our unfinished conversation knocking at the fore-front of my mind now, I quickly brushed his sexy Italian off and asked, "So, why porn?"