Page 17 of Choosing Hope
Without discussing it, Carlo and I moved closer. My fingers itched to explore her soft skin.
Carlo settled between her legs while I loomed over her torso, gently picking up her right hand and drawing her fingers to his lips.
“Tell me I can taste you, Chess.” The vibration of Carlo’s voice made Chess tremble with her need for him.
She nodded frantically.
“Speak, baby, ask me to lick you,” he replied, sending a fresh tidal wave of blood south, thrilled at his dominance.
“Yes, please, I want that.” She answered him, her clumsy words catching in her throat.
For the entire summer, Chess became our third. And Carlo was dead set on having a future with our girl. He inquired about my thoughts on her living with us in London.
Even though Carlo believed he’d met his ‘one’, he was never selfish with her time or body. Carlo enjoyed coaching Chess in the way I enjoyed being touched; he said they liked me in their bed, and he seemed to take great pleasure from observing our passion for each other.
The three of us learned together, exploring each other, learning from our bodies’ responses until augmenting each other’s desires became like an obsession.
I will never forget the night I held our girlfriend in my arms while my boyfriend made love to her. It was the hottest thing I’d ever experienced.
We were young and innocent. But these experiences forged a deviant nature that I, for one, have found almost impossible to resist ever since.
Left almost entirely to our own devices by Nonna, we enjoyed an insanely erotic three months. By the end of that summer, none of us were virgins anymore, and I felt a depth of love for both of my friends that was indescribable.
The three of us became addicted not only to each other’s bodies, but to the sensations our own bodies could generate and enjoy.
Those few weeks were the best of my life so far; they were blissful. But sadly, they couldn’t last.
When Alonso arrived for a surprise visit, he caught the three of us in bed together.
We’d never witnessed such rage. He was catatonic.
We begged him to let her come back to England with us, but Alonso ignored us, ripping Chess from our arms and rushing back to Sicily with her. He seemed to disregard his previous concerns about the risks to her safety. Concerns which, only a year earlier, were significant enough to bring Chess to Nonna’s lemon grove.
Within a fortnight of her return, Chess had vanished, believed kidnaped.
Carlo and I were inconsolable.
Though two weeks later, after we returned to London, we received the call we’d prayed would never come.
Chess was dead.
Chapter Four
Spencer
Dr. Klein gasps when I deliver my last fatal line. The line that stopped me from speaking for several moments.
Even now, thirteen years later, the tears still pool in my eyes when I consider the loss of my first love.
“I’m sorry you had to suffer a significant loss like that at such a vulnerable age,” she murmurs, her words swirling in the weird emptiness in my mind.
Suddenly, the comfort of the chair is gone.
What once felt safe now feels too open—like it’s swallowed me whole and spat me out undera spotlight.
I can’t hide here, can’t even tilt my chin to block her view of my face.
There may be a clinical reason for that, but right now, I don’t care.
