I grasped his forearm tightly, clenching my nails into his copper skin.
“Dante represents human nature and their fight with good and evil, heaven and hell,” I say, exhaling small breaths from pursed lips.
“More,” his breath hot against my neck as he tortures me.
“Romance isn’t what it is today, yet the feeling of love is universal through time,”
His thumb found my clit, rotating in teasing circles while his index fingers fucked the inside of me in a frenzied rhythm.
Holy fuck me! This man is a sex God!
“Society has forgotten the true aspect of love in its entirety. Dante and Beatrice. Romeo and Juliet,” my voice trailing into a hushed pleasurable whisper.
My hips began to roll with each thrust of his finger. He growled in my ear in frustration.
“I said don’t move,” he orders.
“I can’t stop, Enzo.”
“Neither can I,” a telling groan escaping from deep within his throat.
My orgasm so close that I can feel my pulse nearly explode from my chest. I felt myself coming undone around him and I clench my thighs together even harder against his hand. I soaked his fingers as I erupted completely around them. I grabbed his forearm wrapped around me tightly, with my nails digging into his skin. My teeth biting against his muscled forearm as my orgasm ripples through me. My head fell back contently against his shoulder.
“I fucking love feeling you come. That’s my princessa.”
As he takes out his fingers from inside of me, he brushes a drop of warm juice against my inner thighs. His touch eliciting fire that my body desperately tries to cool with chills running down my spine. I turn around to face him, readjusting the plum-colored fabric of my dress around my hips. He runs one of his fingers across his lips, slightly grazing his tongue across it.
“No fucking doubt you are Italian,” he says.
This man just finger fucked me in front of the statue of Dante and just licked my juices off his finger in public.
“We finish this later,” I whisper breathlessly.
A small, satisfied smile crosses his face. I follow his gaze that just moved off me to the opposite side of where we stood. In the distance, Antonio stood unapproving and defensive. Enzo kisses me gently on the cheek and walks over to his friend across the courtyard. They intently discuss something of importance. Enzo’s posture stiffens and he becomes rigid with a stone face. They shake hands reluctantly as I look between them through confused eyes. My chest rising and falling with short breaths, trying to control my still throbbing core.
There is something more to Enzo, something he isn’t telling me. Something is off.
My gaze returns back to the monument of Dante in front of me. Dante and Beatrice and love intrude upon my thoughts.
His love for Beatrice may have been idealized, but the core of his love was complete admiration and respect of her entire soul. His love for her was unyielding feelings of respect and devotion. A love like them was truly something to aspire to. I thought I had that love with Lucas, but even he turned worse than Abelard. Maybe I’m not capable of finding love in its truest form. Love has become synonymous with sex, which has become at the forefront of my relationships with Finn and Enzo. Could they ever respect and devote to me completely as Dante did? As Romeo did?