Page 58 of Her Filthy Italians

There’s a knock at the door. “Are you ready, bambina?” Alessio calls out.

Camila places her hand in the small of my back. “Let’s go, honey. You have my blessing.”

I pull her in for a hug. “I hope to say those words to you, big sis, before too long. Hope you’ll meet someone with whom you can share your life.”* * *The Cipriani Hotel on the island of Giudecca is a fairy-tale setting for our ceremony. I stand between Marco and Alessio in the flower-filled garden perfumed by the scent of roses, our friends and families surrounding us. “You look like an angel,” Marco bends and whispers in my ear.

“Our beautiful angel,” Alessio adds. “We love you so much.”

“And you are incredibly handsome,” I tell my filthies. And they are. Dressed in tuxedos, they look so freaking gorgeous they steal my breath.

Carlo Koffler, our ‘officiant’, takes our hands and joins them. “Please, make your vows.”

We form a triangle and say the words we’ve learned by heart, “We, Serafina, Alessio and Marco, pledge our love to each other for as long as we live. What we possess in this world, we give to each other. We will comfort and care for each other, protect and shelter each other, for all the days of our lives.”

To tumultuous applause, we kiss. Our mouths grow hungry, and Luigi shouts, “Get a room!”

We break away, laughing. There’s a room waiting for us in the hotel, but first we need to spend time with our guests.

Italian weddings are a marathon, I’ve been to a couple since taking up residence here, and although this isn’t a wedding as such, we’re celebrating our love as if this was one. We start with drinks and canapes in the garden, then proceed to a buffet of cold cuts and salads before a sit-down lunch. Two antipasti, two pasta dishes, two main courses with sides, enough wine to float a ship followed by another buffet of desserts.

Finally, we take to the dance floor. Marco, Alessio and I dance together, and it’s like the first time we danced all those months ago. The DJ is spinning Andrea Bocelli’s Fall on me. My filthies pass me back and forth between them. Marco pulls me into his rock-hard chest, then releases me so Alessio can claim me and do the same.

He holds me close, his hand firmly gripping mine and the other circling my waist. Marco, behind me, places his hands low on my hips. He reaches around my body to grasp Alessio and we rock together, the three of us.

We’re surrounded by the people we love and who love us, accept us for who we are. Alessio’s entire family are here… his parents, three brothers, two sisters, their spouses and kids. Marco’s parents, his sister and her husband, plus their two little girls. My bosses, Stefano and Caterina. Camila is dancing with them… she and Caterina get on like a house on fire. Carlo Koffler, his wife Margherita. I sweep my gaze around the floor. So many new friends. Their faces blend into each other while my filthies whirl me between them.

“Happy?” Marco asks.

“So very happy,” I sigh.

“I know what would make you even happier,” Alessio smirks.

“You do?” I feign innocence.

He bends and whispers in my ear. “Two cocks in your pussy.”

I smile at the delicious filthiness of the suggestion. “How well you know me,” I giggle.

“Time to slip away?” Marco suggests.

“Definitely,” I respond.* * *We literally fall through the door of our luxurious suite into the lounge area. Their strong arms envelop me, their noses pressing on the top of my head as they breathe me in. They tilt my chin up and meld their mouths to mine.

My breath catches, and I slide my tongue along their lips, feeling them harden against my belly. I arch up and kiss them deeper, my hands around their necks as they pull me against them. Our heads switch sides, our tongues dancing, our lips sliding. The heat burning between us crackles like electricity.

We cling to each other, breathless, stumbling and stabilizing.

I clutch at their hair and tug.

Their fingers dig into my hips, yanking me closer.

They take it in turn to suck on my tongue, biting down as I fuse my legs to theirs and wedge myself against their hardness.

I want to crawl under their skin.

Still kissing me, they unzip my dress and it falls to the floor.

I unbutton their shirts, pull down their pants.

We stumble over to the sofa and make short work of the rest of our clothes.

Marco pulls me into his lap, so I’m sitting on him cowgirl style. He presses his hardness against my asscheeks, loops his hands around my thighs and spreads me wide.

Alessio kneels on the floor, his face between my legs. He parts my slit with his thumbs and pushes his mouth into me. Then he licks inside, his tongue darting in and out. “You’re so beautifully wet for us,” his voice vibrates against my pussy.

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