Page 87 of Giovanna

“Thanks for coming, Doc. Apologies for waking you,” Giovanna greets her before introducing me. “Francesca, this is Dr. Margaret Hunter. She works for theFamiglia.”

“Call me Marg.”

Despite her unorthodox attire, Marg is efficient and professional, if not particularly warm. She inspects the wound in my neck, cleaning it carefully to prevent infection.

“Hmmm, I’m going to need to chuck a few stitches in where it is a bit deeper just here,” she points to a spot on my neck that I can’t see, but Giovanna nods. I’m still sitting on her lap and Dr. Hunter instructs me to get up and lie down flat on the sofa.

“I’ll stay right here by your feet,” Giovanna kisses my temple seeing my reluctance to leave the safety of her embrace. She gets me up and helps me to lie on the sofa, treating me so gently I again get the deliciously warm feeling that I’m precious to her.

True to her word she perches at the end of the sofa and gently squeezes my bare feet while Doc injects me with some local anaesthetic.

It hurts a lot, the injections and then the stitches, but all I can think of is our kiss. I’ve been pining and fantasising about it for so long that as the minutes pass since our lips parted I start to wonder if this kiss too was merely a figment of my imagination.

It is like the impossible has happened, but at the same time, it is all entirely inevitable. That one kiss felt like fate; my destiny, our destiny.

It isn’t the pain that has me willing Marg to hurry up and finish stitching my neck, it is my hunger to climb back into Giovanna’s lap. If she’ll let me. A worry that she will regret our kiss already niggles at me. She’s stroking my feet and the bottoms of my legs and it is lovely, but what if she backs off as soon as the doctor has left?

What if she says it was a mistake and tries to foist me back onto her brother? My heart might just shatter.

I’ve wanted this for so long.

The head rush I got from her mouth devouring mine was like nothing I’ve ever experienced. It was so soft and languid. The most sensual thing ever and it was just a kiss.

We didn’t even get to second base. Did she feel the power behind it like I did? Maybe it was just another kiss for her, like every other kiss I’ve had up until this point.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Francesca

16 Years Old

It feels dangerous like I shouldn’t be here. I don’t have permission and even if I pretend to myself that I’m just going to grab Massimo’s phone charger, I know that I’m really satisfying my uncontrollable curiosity.

Desperation to learn more about her propels me. The desire to be in Giovanna’s personal space and see where she sleeps, gets changed, and takes women to bed. The latter gives me a pang of jealousy.

She has a whole wing of the house to herself and I enter through the living area, it’s minimally and tastefully furnished. The sofa is big and comfy-looking and I imagine what it would be like to snuggle up to Gio and watch TV. She’s a lot taller than me and has lots of muscles. The thought of her enveloping me in her body has me wrapping my arms around myself tight.

My infatuation is entirely one-sided. Giovanna sees me as a child; her brother’s best friend. The little girl she has babysat for years. But, I’m 16 and soon it won’t matter that she is 14 years older than me. Look at Mum and Dad or Sandy and Peta. They have bigger age gaps than that.

Deep down I don’t think she will ever want me though. I’m scrawny and awkward. I’ve seen the women she likes and they have curves, big boobs, and juicy bums. They ooze sex whereas I am a walking and talking example of inexperience and innocence. Like Bambi learning how to walk.

Massi said he left his charger in her bedroom so I head over to the door on the other side of the lounge, a thrill slithering up my spine. The door is open just a crack and as I approach it I hear voices from within.Shit, Giovanna isn’t out after all.

‘Just knock and ask for the charger, idiot’ I think, but my hand stalls as I am about to rap my knuckles on the door.

“Good girl,” I hear Giovanna growl and I hurry to align my eye with the crack in the door, desperate to see the lucky woman on the other end of her praise.

My heart stutters and I swear it stops for just a moment. Giovanna has her back to me. She is standing at the end of her bed and she is completely naked. Naked, except for straps that go around her hips, thighs, and bum. Her muscles strain against them and the sight triggers a throb between my legs.

She has an arm behind her head, her elbow pointing upwards, and it makes her upper back muscles ripple. My mouth waters and despite my sexual inexperience, my body tells me I want to dig my fingers into her toned back. Her other hand is gripping the hinge of the hip and thigh of a naked woman. She is on her hands and knees on the bed, bum in the air, face pressed into the bed.

With each thrust of her hips, Giovanna lets out a sexy grunt that has my vagina clenching in time with the slap of their connecting flesh. The woman on the bed is moaning like a cat in heat and I am overcome with thoughts of violence. I have never felt this degree of desperation to have something before. I gulp. I want her hands onme, movingmybody, fucking me hard.

“Push back into me, babe,” Giovanna instructs roughly and then rewards her with another low, “Good girl”. How are those two words so hot? I want to be her good girl. I’d do anything to hear those words from her.

When Giovanna drops both hands to the woman’s hips, lifting her so that her knees rise off the bed so she can plough into her harder, my insides turn to mush and I let out an involuntary whimper. I slap a hand over my mouth, but it is loud enough that Giovanna snaps her head around and her eyes meet mine.

My cheeks redden and I immediately want to cry with embarrassment. She stares back at me, eyes burning right into my soul, through the crack in the door, without breaking her rhythm. I am frozen, sick to my stomach, and yearning for a woman I can’t have.

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