Page 22 of Rome with Dad's Best Friend

“Are you hungry?” I ask.

Hannah lets out a moan before she can answer. It sounds like she’s already excited again. I’m not surprised after all it was her first time, and she’s young. I knew she would be ready to go again quickly. I’m not too far behind her myself.

“Yes,” Hannah says at last. She glances over at the clock on the bedside table. “It’s past dinner time already.”

I check and see that she’s right. “Takeout?” I ask, planting a kiss on her nipple to finish off my teasing. “I figure it’s easier than getting dressed.”

“Takeout sounds good,” Hannah says. Her voice sounds dreamy, like she’s still in her own bubble of bliss. I want to keep her there for as long as possible. “I don’t care what.”

I grin, deliberately rolling my hand across her body as I reach for the phone on the side table. For Hannah, who loves food so much, not to care about what we eat must mean that she is completely blissed-out. “I’ll order something,” I say, scrolling through the phone for my favorite takeout place. As a businessman, there have been many nights when I’ve worked so late that takeout is really the only option.

I speak quickly down the phone to get the order placed, and I hear the snap in attention in the server’s voice as they recognize my address as one of their most valued customers. I always order well and tip generously, so that in the future I can expect the best service. It’s one of the tricks of my trade, treat others well and they will do their best for you in return.

That done, I put the phone down and return my attention to Hannah, who is still sprawled out, open, and exposed to me. I hear her gasp when my fingers enter her without warning, slow and gentle at first, but when she groans and grinds her hips down against me as I move faster.

I’m already hard again, and I move over her swiftly, taking her into my arms as I position myself to plunge deep inside. She feels so good, so tight and hot and wet, all ready slick and ready for me. This time is easier, better, the two of us moving in time without hesitation. The rhythm builds and I sit upright, going onto my knees in front of her and lifting that peach of an ass up onto my thighs as I drive down into her, watching her throw her head back as the angle drives her crazy.

We cry out together, both of us getting our release as the doorbell below rings, signaling the arrival of our food. I grin down at her, panting for breath, and wipe the sweat off my forehead with the side of my arm.

“So,” I say teasingly, meeting her dreamy eyes. “Looks like one of us has to get dressed and answer the door.”

“Forget the door,” Hannah says, sliding her eyes closed with a smile. “I’m too happy to move.”Chapter EighteenHannahMy eyes open in a rush, a flood hitting my consciousness as I remember everything that happened last night. The amazing sex, not just my first time but my first three times – after we refueled with the takeout, and both managed to find a little extra stamina needed to finish off the night. We fell asleep then, and though I remember Marco’s arms around me last night, this morning the room is empty.

I look up slightly, moving into a sitting position, and catch the sound of running water coming from behind a door to one side of the room. He must be in the shower. I think about joining him, but then I think about this house, this big, wonderful house that must hold all of his secrets. I don’t want to miss this opportunity, so I grab his discarded shirt from the floor and put it on like the girls in the movies, buttoning it over my bare breasts so I don’t feel so naked.

The bedroom is well-decorated but masculine, and there are only his things in the drawers and by the bed. It’s not exactly a surprise to know that he sleeps alone, but I’m glad to have it confirmed. It’s not as though I really know anything about his life here – all I know is what I’ve heard from my dad, and in the past few days, Marco hasn’t let much slip at all.

I move out into the hallway, trailing my hand along the banister above the stairs as I explore. Besides the massage room, there are another three bedrooms, made up neatly with guest beds, as well as a small bathroom at the other end of the hall. It’s big enough for a family here – can Marco really live here alone?

I’m about to start my journey down the stairs when I hear a light step and look up, to see Marco wrapped in only a towel, water still dripping from his skin. “Morning, bella,” he says, reaching out to cup my chin with both hands.

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