BRISSA
JUST BEFORE I LEAVE, I look in the mirror again, only to make sure that I do, in fact, look good in the dress. And I know I do, but the truth is that I feel insecure. That complex of being the ugly duckling of the class has never left me. So, at times like this, I feel nervous and vulnerable. I start to doubt myself, to think that maybe there is something wrong with the way I perceive myself, which probably differs from the rest.
Maybe it's because, in my head, I think that men like Carmine might prefer other kinds of women. Women with golden blond hair and deep blue eyes. But he wants me, Brissa, the attractive girl who never felt she could fit in anywhere, but who is finally beginning to accept that maybe she is perfect just the way she is.
Be that as it may, I can't deny that this dress fits me well. Tight-fitting and crimson red, it brings out the tan tone of my skin and matches perfectly with the red lipstick I'm wearing. My thick, wavy hair falls down my back and shoulder blades and the neckline just hints at the curve of my breasts.
"You look gorgeous," I repeat to myself, remembering an old trick taught to me by a friend who majored in psychology. "You are spectacular, amazing, and any man would be lucky to have you by his side. Especially this one."
The question I still can't answer is precisely why, of all women, Carmine has chosen me to fix his attention on. He is a man who can obviously arouse passions. A man who gets what he wants without any problems.
After deciding that I am perfect, I leave the hotel room and head toward the elevator that connects to the three-star Michelin restaurant located on the terrace. As one of the bellhops has explained to me, the top floor of The Grand Empress Hotel is divided into two terraces—one private, belonging to the hotel penthouse and the other, which is where the restaurant is located.
"Good evening," Carmine says to me as soon as the elevator doors open for me.
I look him over, impressed by how handsome he is. Today he's wearing a gray suit whose shade complements his green eyes, which match perfectly with the shade of his tie. Carmine has his dark hair combed back and wears a cologne that makes me want to sink my face into his neck and snuggle closer.
As I approach, he takes my hand and kisses it politely. "I hope you're hungry. I've ordered us a special dinner."
"Sounds fantastic," I admit with a smile, not letting go of his hand and as he guides me inside the luxurious and elegant restaurant, which is superbly decorated, with dark walls that mimic the texture of rock, and offers stunning views of the city.
He leads me to a central table that just happens to have a perfect view of Manhattan. What strikes me, however, is that we are completely alone.
"Where are all of the guests?" I ask him, looking around at the vacant dining area with a raised eyebrow as he moves the chair so I can sit down.
"I took the liberty of reserving the restaurant just for us for tonight," he admits, taking a seat across from me.
I look at him, sure my eyebrows have migrated to my hairline, and watch as he pours me wine. "Let me guess. Advantages of being the owner?"
Carmine flashes me a smile. "Let's just say I know how to use my resources," he admits.
I shake my head, taking a sip of wine, which is delicious. "If you ask me, it's a lot of work to try to impress me."
"And is it working?" he asks, apparently amused by my attitude.
"I don't know," I admit. "In a way, you do impress me."
"That's a good thing. You intrigue me," he replies.
The intensity of his words manages to make my cheeks blush, but luckily, a waiter soon appears and serves us dinner.
For at least an hour, Carmine and I chat with apparent normality and ease. He tells me about his life in Manhattan and is interested to know what it was like for me growing up in Chicago, the daughter of a Puerto Rican mother and an Italian father, which amuses him.
I discuss personal stories from my childhood with him and am amazed at how focused he is on paying attention to my every word. Every time I finish telling him something new, he follows up with questions that show genuine interest.
At one point, he pauses mid-sentence as his eyes are drawn to something behind me, and when I turn around to see what it is, I catch sight of a couple outside on the sidewalk who appear to be having an argument in the corner of the room. The woman's voice gets louder and louder until she bursts into tears and storms out of the restaurant.
Turning back to Carmine, I can see a hint of sadness etched on his face before he quickly recovers his composure and refocuses on our conversation. We talk until our plates are almost empty and he insists on ordering us dessert despite my protests that I'm too full. His enthusiasm makes me laugh and give in to his request.
At the end of dinner, and after a delicious chocolate mousse that we enjoy for dessert, Carmine stands up and takes my hand, leading me to the windows so we can better admire the view.
After removing the plates, the waiter left, and I sense that he will not, in fact, appear again. "This has been a lovely evening," I admit, grateful for the man who has apparently made such prodigious efforts at impressing me.
"You deserved it," he admits. "I owed you a great dinner after I hunted you down like a wolf after its prey."
"Well, I wouldn't say it was quite like that," I tell him, laughing.
"But in a way, I feel like it was. The difference is that my prey wanted to let itself be eaten, but... that doesn't change the fact that I hunted you," he continues, his eyes dark with desire.
His eyes, which remind me so well of the passionate, albeit brief, moment we had experienced, make my legs tremble. And I think how delicious it would be to be with him again. To allow desire to take me over and simply give myself to this man.
"Tell me why you're so interested in me," I ask, completely intrigued.
"I honestly don't know," Carmine admits, holding out one of his hands to gently caresses my head. "But you charm me. Everything about you enchants me." He runs his fingertips over my face from my eyebrow down to my chin.
"I've already told you I'm not looking for anything serious," I repeat, but I know my voice sounds full of doubt. That, and the way I look at him, must make it quite clear to him that I do, in fact, desire him.
"I'm not looking for a formal relationship either," admits Carmine.
"So, what are the two of us doing?" I ask.
By way of response, he takes a step toward me, again leaving my body trapped between him and the wall. Only this time, the wall is made of glass.
"Let's say that we are two mature, adult people who desire each other without fear of saying so. That we can have any relationship we want without fear of it breaking us, or being misunderstood by the other," he says.
Carmine still has my chin trapped between his fingers. He pulls me a little closer, and I stand on my tiptoes, wanting to feel the brush of his beard against my skin as he kisses me. "I'm fine with that," I reply, my voice barely a whisper.
In the middle of my words, his lips find me, and I can't think of anything anymore. I lose myself in the way he kisses me, in the way his fingers run over me, in the way his lips possess me.
Carmine lets his tongue sink into me as he lifts my dress up over my thighs. "Let's go to your room," I tell him, knowing that what follows isn't something I want to share with the world.
"No. I don't want to wait," he tells me. "I promise no one will see us. I told you, the restaurant is closed..."
"But... someone might see us from the windows." My heart races with fear, yet I can't resist the blissful sensations of his tongue stirring against my fragile skin. A warning crosses my mind as I imagine us being observed from the windows, but I succumb to passion and lose all inhibitions in an overwhelming moment of pleasure. And the sensation is delicious.
Carmine releases a hoarse, perfect dark laugh and then looks me in the eyes as he says, "We're so high up no one could see us. This is like an open secret. We'll do it in front of everyone without anyone being able to witness our actions."
And his voice, so seductive, coupled with the very sensual proposal that gets my blood hot, makes me feel drunk.
"Sit on the table."
He orders, and I obey. He stands in front of me. His eyes are fixed on my body as he undresses me.
Carmine removes each article, and I feel like a gift being unwrapped. He unfastens each button with care, sure to let his fingers brush my skin.
"Your breasts have haunted me." He opens my blouse, caressing my breasts.
After a moment, his hands reach down and grip my panties, sliding them down my legs. Then he lowers back onto the chair.
A wave of warmth runs through my body as he spreads my legs, and I let him. He licks his lips, and never in my life have I felt so exposed.
His warm lips move up from my ankle, pecking kisses on my calf, then I feel his tongue on my thigh. I moan, twisting as my pussy tingles with an intensity that makes me tremble.
"Are you trying to torture me?" I moan as his hands travel up my waist and his breath passes over my pussy.
"Yes, but I wouldn't call it torture." His lips explore every inch of my inner thighs.
"What would you call it?" I groan in pleasure and pull him closer to me, wanting more from him.
"Pleasure, bellissima. Pleasure."
His fingers caress me, gently at first, feeling for the wetness that is already there before his touch intensifies. Then his tongue circles my clit and fills me.
"Fuck...." My body arches off the table, and his hand spreads on my stomach, holding me in place.
He explores deeper. The sensation is intoxicating. I can feel the heat radiating from within me as he brings me closer and closer to orgasm with each passing second.
The light in his eyes dims slightly and his pupils dilate. He pulls my hips hard against him, thrusting deeper into me, sending a wave of desire crashing into my core.
"Carmine..." I call out as my orgasm rips through me.
He sits back, looking pleased with himself. I prop up on my elbows as he stands between my legs.
This isn't what I expected tonight. And while I give him my body, he's inching closer to my heart.
He takes me with his fingers, which plunge passionately inside me, and I moan as I lift my head, wanting to feel him, and he begins to unbutton his pants.
When I feel him hesitate, I ask between moans, "Are you clean?"
His intensity never falters. "Of course. Why? Do you want me raw?"
"Yes," I pant, and I can't believe my words. But after the previous night, I want to experience all of him. "I'm on the pill."
Carmine slips his fingers out and then sinks into my wetness, pressing in just the right places. The sensation is so delicious, the friction so perfect against my walls, that it almost makes me go crazy. He spreads my legs wider, gripping my ass, and lifts me up so that I entangle my legs at his hips.
An electrifying sensation pulses through me as he moves faster and faster, pushing me to heights I've never experienced before. His touch is so intense that heat radiates from my body all the way down to my core. I'm close to exploding as every nerve in my body pleads for completion again.
His thrusts come faster now, and I can feel him hitting harder, pushing deeper into me. Our eyes meet as he rushes me toward orgasm again, and just in that brief instant, his eyes seem to tell me that he won't let me go.
My breathing becomes erratic as I start feeling the sensations build up, and with a few last thrusts, he sends us over the edge until we're panting in each other's arms for a few moments before we get back to reality.
I feel like his name is now engraved on my lips and tattooed on my skin. And for the first time in my life, I will not stop because of the 'buts' or the 'whys.' I'll just let myself enjoy the moment.
I wrap my hands around his neck and whisper, "Can we do it again?"