Page 46 of Casanova LLC

And that was incredibly, astonishingly…freeing.

So I walked to the table, my back to him, and dropped the towel.

Alessandro

I stood there as she took the last few steps to the table, transfixed by that inverted heart of an ass. I could not not stare at it. In fact, by the time the sight had fully registered, she was already settling herself under the sheet. I wanted a replay. I wanted her to climb onto the table again. I wanted to see whatever else I could have seen that I now realized I’d missed while my brain was busy being fried.

I unglued my feet and stepped over to the towel. “Drop something?”

She lifted her head out of the cradle. Rested her cheek on the rim and smiled, the candlelight glinting off her bare shoulders and the peak of her cheekbone.

She watched as I rolled up my sleeves. Then she turned her face back toward the cradle. “Where did we land on spanking?” I asked.

Even in the low lighting I was sure she blushed as she hid her smiling face.

I took a full breath, as discreetly as possible, and stepped around to the head of the table. I gathered her hair and draped it off to one side, then pinched the edge of the sheet between both thumbs and forefingers, billowed it up slightly, and settled it back down at the dimpled base of her lower back.

I squirted warm oil into my hands and silently admired the hills and valleys and slopes of her. A bas-relief I couldn’t wait to explore.

Later, I told myself.

I stepped forward, rubbed my hands together, and placed my palms on her shoulders. Pressed and, slowly, slid them down her spine. Was rewarded with a long sigh from her. And the goose bumps I’d imagined in the speakeasy. “You’re so goddamn beautiful.” I said it before I’d decided to say it. “I could spend the weekend kissing your back. These shoulders. Those little?—”

“You don’t have to…”

I paused my hands. They had reached those dimples. “Do you want me to stop?”

“Oh, no. No. Keep going. Please. Never mind.”

“What were you going to say?”

She sighed. “It’s just—you don’t have to do…the whole Casanova thing. You know, the script or whatever. I already feel good, really good.”

I squatted down in front of her. She raised her head and we were eye to eye. “Everything I say to you, I mean.”

“Everything?”

In answer, I gently kissed her forehead, smiled, and stood. “Now, where was I?”

We were silent for a while as I reentered the landscape of her body. Eventually, her breathing evened and deepened. She’d needed a quick nap after all.

When I moved to her feet, she moaned. I grinned; she was awake. She breathed out a long “Oh, God,” as I dug into both hamstrings, arriving, finally, at the crease of her ass.

“Over or under?”

She knew I meant the sheet. She answered without pause, “Under.”

I didn’t wander, my fingers didn’t drift inward and lower. I wanted to take my time. I wanted the luxury of exploring her before anything became overly sexual. I knew the sheet was unnecessary at this point. I knew she wouldn’t object if I slid it off entirely. But the flimsy barrier was sexy. I was sure this was Claire’s idea of sexy: pretend barriers. High necklines, unacknowledged absent panties, fogged mirrors. I found myself captivated by it as well.

I leaned forward, over her back, whispering, “Want to turn over now?”

“Sure,” she answered, throatily. Then she flipped over before I had a chance to lift the sheet. “Ready.”

She had this way of subtly surprising me.

I resituated the sheet over her as she ran her fingers through her hair. She exhaled long and hard and rested her arms above her head, half hanging off the top of the table. A small stretch that arched her back.

It was wanton.

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