Page 64 of Chasing Storm

“Do you remember during my recovery while we were getting to know each other, we talked about travels?” She nods. “Well, we both wanted to travel to Italy.”

She shoots off the bed, her hands pressed against her chest, when she asks, “We’re going to Italy?”

“Tuscany, to be precise.”

For a little woman, Tea has the lung capacity of a blue whale. Her screams reverberate through the room while she’s jumping around with excitement. I’ve never seen the woman this electrified before, so it’s a new side of her I love. She’s bouncing from drawers to closet to suitcase, rambling on about going to Tuscany. Eating Italian food. Drinking wine.

As fast as her adrenalin kicks into gear, she pauses, tilting her head to the side. “When are we leaving? How are we getting there?”

“Love, I got it covered. Our flight is in six hours. You have two and a half hours to pack. The limo will be here by then to take us to the airport.”

She flies into my arms, tackling me onto the bed, and kisses every inch of my face.

I’m laughing when I say, “We have time for a blow job.” Her fingers begin to undo my jeans, but I grasp her hands. “Kidding, Love. We’ll have plenty of time for that when in Tuscany. Trust me, I’m fucking you all over the rolling hills, vineyards, and olive groves.”

Tea wiggles her nose against mine. “I love you, Joey. Thank you so much.”

“You’re my girl.”

We arrive at the Florence airportat one in the afternoon. Flying first class helped Teagan relax, seeing it was her first flight ever. She was hyped for a good two hours, ping ponging between fearful and thrilled. After a couple of drinks, she simmered down and fell asleep.

Instead of an expensive hotel, I rented a house in the small town of Poppi, so we can immerse ourselves in the culture. We’ll be driving all over Tuscany, eating Focaccia, pizza, and seafood, and sampling wines.

It’s a little over an hour and a half from the airport, but worth it. The stone house is in the hills, overlooking a valley. A stone staircase ascends to a small balcony, cement planters decorating the large ledge. It has two bedrooms, a bathroom, a large kitchen, and a living room with a fireplace. I don’t think we’ll be needing it in this hot weather. The woman who owns the house explains everything to us in Italian, so we nod along, oblivious to what she’s saying. When she leaves, Teagan stretches her arms out and twirls.

She collapses on the couch and asks, “What should we do first?”

“Me.” I offer my lopsided grin that gets her every time. Then I hold my hand out. “Let’s wander around the area.”

It’s an old rustic Italian town. Tea and I stroll through the streets, stopping so she can take pictures. The view from the castle is incredible. Situated on the castle grounds is a small bakery, where we sit outside and enjoy some pastries and an espresso. Afterward, we walk over to a bench overlooking the hills, and I sit with my arm around Tea and her head on my shoulder.

I feel her smile when she says, “This has got to be the most gorgeous view I’ve ever seen. It’s so serene.”

My eyes close as I rest my head against hers. This is perfect. My beautiful wife is nestled against me, drowning in the beautiful landscape, and no worries.

There’s a kind of magic in Tuscany where the modern world fades away, making room for the old world. Hills, mountains, valleys, small villages constructed of stone and bare of manufactured décor. Instead, colorful vines curl and draw up buildings, flowers adorn windows and doors, and the scent of home-cooked food mixes in with nature. I can breathe better. The food is outstanding, and everyone we’ve met has been friendly.

Joey does all the driving. To get anywhere from Poppi, we have to drive through the mountains, and in some areas, it’s an abrupt drop down too many feet to count. Aside from clinging to the door handle, I take in every bit of the scenery. We walk along the tops of the Pratomagno, coming across wild horses sauntering around the hilltops along with people. The roads take us to Umbria, Caprese Michelangelo, his birthplace, La Verna, Florence, and a detour to the sea to the small village of Porto Venere. After visiting Porto Venere, we spend four days driving, taking the train, and a boat along the Cinque Terre. It’s mind-blowing, to say the least.

In one of the five villages that make up the Cinque Terre, we wind up lost, wandering through Manarola. Somehow, we find ourselves on the rock formations right on the sea. It’s late afternoon, and most people are finding places to eat or taking a nap, so the area is secluded. All I’ve worn in Italy are shorts or light dresses, and today is dress day.

Joey sits me on a boulder, steps between my legs, and slides his hands up my dress.

My head swings in all directions. “We can’t do that here.”

Slipping his hands under my ass, he shifts me closer to the edge of the boulder and says, “Sure we can. No one’s near.” He claims my mouth, tongue twirling with mine. He bites my lower lip, glances over his shoulder, turns back to me, and says, “I’m going to fuck you while you look out onto the ocean, listening to the crashing waves.”

I close my eyes, his fingers move aside my thong, and he pushes inside me. A sigh escapes. I’m wet and hornier than ever. Leaning back on my elbows, head dropping back, I spread my legs wider, offering myself to him. His thumb grinds against my clit. The waves hit the rocks below, settling into foam until another round comes crashing again. It’s how my buildup and release come, and then Joey’s inside me. My ass scrapes on the rocks while he thrusts slow and hypnotic to fast and crazed. The smell of sea water rushes to my head. Joey’s fingers dig into my hips, jerking to the motion of his drives. The roar of the ocean silences our screams, slapping the boulders, including the one we’re on. Soaked and satiated, Joey takes me in his arms, carrying me to a drier area.

My hair and dress cling to me, so Joey rushes inside a store and buys me a long-knitted sweater. We find a place to eat and gorge ourselves on pasta and seafood. The smells, tastes, and people of Italy are wonderful, making Italian food my favorite now.

Unfortunately, the next day we pack, and head home. I’ve never seen Joey so at ease. Our time in Tuscany has allowed us to absorb the calmness, and I’m not ready to go. We’ve explored so many places, along with being a little riskier when it comes to sex. Apparently, our inhibitions have been hidden for the time being.

Now, we’re doing a last walk through a small town at night. The streets are bare. That’s the thing about little towns in Tuscany, they become deserted during the night. People are home, enjoying family. It’s only tourists you might come across in the late hours.

Joey takes my hand, as we wander outside town to a fountain, caged in a semi-circle patch of forest. It overlooks a vineyard, sprawled out and stretching from each side of it. Spring water pours into the fountain and the statue atop depicts a half-naked man. I love Italian statues.

I’m mesmerized by the darkness, accompanied by the moon and a sky lit up by stars. Joey catches me off guard when his hand slinks up in front between my breasts and loosely wraps around my throat. He takes my mouth, tongue swiping over my teeth, circling my own, and unleashing his cravings.

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