DELUCA

ELEVEN

The ride home was a tense and quiet one. For a while, Eleanor had wondered if she had done something wrong – something to upset him, but the thought quickly faded when Francesco's hand fell over her as he drove.

She tried her hardest not to smile at herself, seeing that some of the night's long efforts had been finally paying off. Francesco intrigued Eleanor, in more ways than just one. When she was younger, Eleanor had spent her youth on her education and taking care of what little she could in the household.

She wished she had had the freedom to experiment sexually, but while also lacking the freedom to do so, Eleanor also lacked the drive. Maybe it was from working every single day and being exhausted. Maybe it was from her never leaving the house unless she had an intention.

And while she wasn't some hapless virgin, Eleanor couldn't control the way her body reacted to Francesco. Whenever he was near, she had suddenly become aware of his every movement. Tonight, dressed so handsomely, she couldn't keep her thoughts on what she knew lay beneath.

Even now, the heat from his hand felt as if it would burn a hole through her. With the touching, an irrational side of her pondered if he could read her thoughts.

Eleanor stole another glance at Francesco whose eyes were trained on the road with his brows furrowed. He seemed completely unbothered by the kiss they had shared. There had been no true reason for Francesco to kiss her then, no appearances to keep up.

Hell, she didn't even care for the reason. She just wanted it to happen again.

The house was quiet when Eleanor and Francesco arrived. While Francesco locked the door, Eleanor slipped off her heels hoping not to wake the entire household with the incredibly high heels.

Her feet cooled on the cold tile sending relief up her spine.

"Wine?" Francesco asked, walking past Eleanor as if the kitchen itself were on fire.

"Um, sure," Eleanor said, following behind him at her own pace. Eleanor took a seat on the stool as Francesco searched through the wine fridge for a bottle of his choosing.

"White or red?"

"Any bottle that is no more than fifty dollars."

"Well... I would have to go to the store, and I don't think that they're open." Francesco looked at Eleanor apologetically before she realized that he was just teasing her.

Again, she was charmed. While he poured a glass, Eleanor wondered to herself if he realized he became someone completely different when people were around.

Eleanor watched Francesco as he rolled his sleeves up to his elbows showing off the tattoos that covered his arms. They even covered his hands. She studied the way his arms moved when he attempted to uncork the bottle. The age of it made the cork all the more complacent. A different muscle became highlighted in all of his efforts leaving Eleanor breathless.

Had she truly been kissing this same man not even an hour ago?

Pop!

The sound of the cork finally dislodging caused Eleanor to jump and then smile when she noticed Francesco was now looking at her.

"Bastard is stubborn." He commented.

He poured a small amount of the wine into the glass studying the island's overhead lights. Eleanor looked at it as well, trying to see what he was looking for but whatever he was looking for he had seemed to find it quickly before smelling it.

"What are you doing? Pour the wine." Eleanor complained with a smile.

Her words looked to have offended Francesco but none of the seriousness traveled to his eyes, "This is a two-thousand-dollar wine, you do not just pour it."

"I said fifty and you picked two thousand?"

"Tuo, mio, nostro."

What does that mean?" She always found herself enthralled whenever Francesco spoke in his native tongue.

"Yours, mine, ours." He punctuated his sentence by handing Eleanor the glass, "Let me show you."

Eleanor took the glass, ready for instruction.

"First you look at it once you pour, when you spend this much on wine you make sure there are no impurities in the glass on first pour." He explained.

Eleanor held the glass to the light as she had seen him done moments before, the light amber of the wine showed nothing amiss.

"Now you smell it, you always inhale as you drink, you'll get all of the notes."

Now, if Eleanor had been completely honest with Francesco she would've let him know it smelled akin to apple cider vinegar, but she hadn't wanted to interrupt his moment.

"Then, sip." He did the same with his glass and Eleanor followed suit. She wasn't able to stop her nose from turning up from the bitterness of the wine. It tasted like cooking wine mixed with ... lime.

Francesco's laugh at her reaction was booming, filling the entire kitchen as Eleanor spit the liquid out back into the cup. When he finally sobered, he walked to the fridge and pulled out something familiar.

It was a bottle of Stella Rosa, Eleanor's favorite wine that Giuseppe had begrudgingly purchased for Eleanor on every visit. Her eye lit up at the fifty-dollar bottle.

"Giuseppe told me this is the wine you prefer, though you can hardly call it wine."

Eleanor took the bottle as though he was handing her a brick of gold in awe, pouring a generous amount into her glass before taking a sip of the sweet liquid.

"This is how I expect a two-thousand-dollar bottle of wine to taste."

"It... twist open, it's not even corked, I genuinely think it is juice," Francesco said, taking the bottle and reading over the contents. Eleanor glanced over to the time on the stove illuminating the area.

"Is drinking wine when we are supposed to be our new thing?" Eleanor asked, changing the subject as she was growing touchy on his classist gaze over the bottle.

Francesco shrugged, "As long as none of my family members appear, then I will suddenly be too tired to talk."

"Oh, so you do notice?" Eleanor asked. She was wrong to assume as his face turned into one a face looking for better understanding.

"Oh, there are two Francesco." She pointed out.

"There are two, but I am not sure I am understanding what you mean."

"Wait, there are two of you?" Eleanor asked.

Francesco set his glass down, "Can we have one conversation at a time?"

Eleanor rolled her eyes, she was getting her conversational habits from Giselle again, "Okay you go first, two Francesco's?"

He smirked at her in amusement, "Yes, my father and I, but I have a feeling that is not what you meant."

"No, I was referring to the two Francescos I see every day. There's the night Francesco and the Day Francesco." Eleanor explained, "You don't... laugh a lot around your family." It was a conversation they had before, but the longer she remained the more and more it stood out every day.

"I imagine it is different for you back home."

The home had been a sore subject for Eleanor lately, feeling more isolated than ever so far away from her parents who she had been used to seeing every day.

"Not a lot. It's just love, and you can tell everyone in this family truly loves each other."

"And how does your father feel about his lovely daughter marrying a stranger?" Francesco asked.

"I told them I fell in love in two weeks so I can just imagine how worried they are for me. Their rational daughter moving overseas at the mention of her first boyfriend." Eleanor said begrudgingly.

Francesco winced, "I am sure your father probably wants my head then."

"No, he's not like that at all." Eleanor laughed, "He wanted me to be happy so bad that I think he just didn't say anything to speak any doubts, if he truly felt a way, I think he would die before letting me know."

The thought of it made her eyes prickle. She never knew how much she could miss her father when she had the chance to see him every day. The only thing that got Eleanor through those lonely periods was knowing that everything she was doing there had been to take care of her parents back home.

She hadn't even married Francesco yet and life was already improving back home thanks in part to Giuseppe. If only that solace eased the pain.

"We never had the opportunity to get close to our father, he busied himself with work when we were children, as you can see our mother is no different."

"I can guarantee that your mother loves you, so much so I think she hates me."

"No, she hates... everyone, even us sometimes." There was a bitterness in his laugh, "We were raised stern, it didn't take us long to realize we only truly have each other. But even with them, I don't do... this."

"This?"

"Speak on emotions." Francesco clarified, "And yet, there is something about you."

Eleanor had to look away at the weight of his words. She found herself listening to him as though he were singing her beautiful song. Feeling the emotion too, Francesco cleared his throat and continued, "I can arrange for your parents to come for the wedding, it is no issue."

"No! You don't have to do that, the cost of traveling while handicapped is too much to ask."

"You're in a restored castle spitting out two-thousand-dollar wine at will, there is not too much to ask. Especially when it comes to family, that bond you share is too important no matter how much of a farce this wedding is." His words were dismissive as if he had already made up his mind.

Eleanor knew that when she said it, but her major worry was her ability to lie to her parents. Lying about why she was leaving was easy but lying about being in love? They would see right through her and ruin everything by insisting she returns home penniless.

Oh, how easily had money managed to corrupt her thinking?

Eleanor couldn't bring herself to come up with another objection and opted to change the subject yet again. This time she would ask the question that had been burning in her mind for a moment.

"Why did you kiss me?" The words came out like word vomit, sounding unnatural and nowhere near the way she had practiced in her head moments before.

"Hm?" The question even seemed to throw Franesco off guard as he placed the bottle back on the counter where he had initially picked it up to put it away.

"On the steps, you kissed me. But none of your family was around... there was no practical reason." She had mistakenly let him know it was something she was mulling over since the kiss, embarrassing her even further.

Francesco gave her a dry chuckle, "Why did I feel like this question was coming?"

"If you knew it was coming you would've just taken me to bed, not bring me in here for a glass of wine." She watched his eyes darken when she mentioned taking her to bed, realizing the connotation it could've given.

With his reaction, she wasn't going to correct herself either.

"I could have, but I wanted a few more moments of you in this dress."

Eleanor had expected Francesco to play aloof as most men would have in his situation where he was denying an attraction. She hadn't expected his honesty.

He was standing only a few inches away just as he had when they were standing on the steps. This time it was Eleanor who wanted to kiss him.

Francesco placed his hand on the small of Eleanor's waist, circling his thumb slowly on her hip bone. At that moment she felt the same sensation elsewhere.

"I am not sure you noticed, but this dressed caused a lot of attention tonight." Francesco gazed down at Eleanor, she could see any emotion he felt whenever she looked into his eyes. As though he had no desire to attempt to hide them, always letting her see right through.

"I wasn't paying attention." The words came out of her throat thick.

"Of course not, that isn't your job. I cannot have so many men undressing you with their eyes when you're supposed to be my fiancé."

The words should've made Eleanor elated, but they only had done the opposite. A kiss over jealousy was much different than a kiss for pride.

"So, you kissed me to 'mark your territory'?" Eleanor asked, her tone flat as the delusions fled her.

"I am not a dog." Francesco laughed, "That is not the reason."

It surely was the reason she kissed him.

"I kissed you because no matter how much I try to remind myself of the reality of this situation, I cannot deny you attention in this dress." Francesco stepped back to gaze at the dress. "I am but a man... or whatever they say."

Eleanor smiled, now feeling like she was playing the role of the fool. She couldn't handle the intensity in Francesco's eyes. His desire was palpable, and every part of her body reacted to that knowledge.

But looking away wouldn't do for Francesco. He placed a gentle finger under her chin and bringing her eyes back to his, "Why do you keep looking away?"

Eleanor's cheeks grew flushed, and she found herself looking away again, "Because... it's like I can read your thoughts when I am looking into your eyes too long." The words came out silly as Eleanor heard how it sounded halfway through the sentence.

"Well, what am I thinking now?"

Eleanor looked Francesco in his eyes once again, seeing the same torrent of emotions running behind them. She didn't need to verbalize his thoughts; they were thinking the same thing. Just as he had done before, Eleanor pulled Francesco in for a kiss.

While the kiss before was tamed, like discovering each other for the first time. This was a kiss of two well-acquainted lovers. Eleanor sighed into the kiss, feeling as though she had finally gotten what her body had tensely built up for.

Within moments into the kiss, Francesco's hands were on Eleanor, traveling down her waist towards her rear. He pushed their bodies together, and she could feel his erection through all of the many layers of their clothes – which she now found cumbersome.

Eleanor couldn't help the moan that escaped her lips at the feeling of his desire for her. Deepening the kiss Francesco lifted Eleanor onto the counter bringing them level.

Disappointed at the disconnection of their bodies, Eleanor slid forward on the counter until his clothed erection pressed directly up against her core.

Eleanor had never felt sensations like this. Kisses for her had usually been rushed and avoided, but she thought she could climax there on the counter just from Francesco's kisses.

Every action he made; Eleanor matched it.

When had to take a break from kissing, Francesco's lips trailed down Eleanor's throat. It had been revealed down to the tops of her breast. When he got past her collarbone, he began to slow.

Leaving no revealed skin untouched, Francesco left slow languid kisses on Eleanor's cleavage.

"I have been wanting to do this all night," Francesco murmured, she wasn't sure if it had been more to himself or her, but she was too dizzy with lust to care.

His slow actions made sitting still all the more unbearable for Eleanor as she could feel his erection just mere millimeters away. But it was as though Francesco hadn't wanted to give her that satisfaction.

When Eleanor whimpered, Francesco chuckled, confirming to her that he was doing this all on purpose. Finally giving her some leeway Francesco pulled her breasts from the tops of her dress revealing them to the cool air.

She had to bite her lips to prevent herself from moaning verbally, trying to remember that not too far away was a house filled with people, when Francesco took her first bud into his mouth, letting his teeth graze her n****e.

Eleanor felt the sensation in her c**t sending sparks of electricity up her spine. Uncontrollably Eleanor moaned aloud.

Francesco quieted her with a kiss nearly sucking the moan directly into her throat.

"You'll have to be quiet, or this will have to stop far before we are finished," Francesco said quietly in Eleanor's ears. The heat of his voice on her neck made her arousal all the more uncomfortable.

She nodded weakly, hoping finished would end in her climax rather than her disappointment and only Francesco satiated.

Francesco stepped back enough to slide Eleanor's dress to her thighs. He moved just as slow before like a kid unwrapping a present. Eleanor watched as his tattooed hand traveled up her thighs.

Eleanor tried her hardest to remember the look out his hand disappearing beneath the hem of her dress to places she couldn't see – only feel.

As his hand got closer to her center, Eleanor suddenly became self-conscious of the wetness that was dripping between her thighs.

"Fanculo." Francesco swore in a whisper at the touch, nowhere near her actual center. Another curse came from him when he realized she wasn't wearing underwear.

"You've been walking around like this all night?" His words were mixed with regret and awe.

"Giselle said underwear would ruin the dress." Eleanor explained breathlessly. She couldn't think of much more to say when he finally met his target. Finding the nub with ease Francesco began to trace the same circles as before, causing Eleanor to squirm at the concentrated attention.

Like an instrument, he began playing her. With each crest, Eleanor felt herself coming closer and closer. She couldn't control the movements of her hips; she just knew the feeling he was giving her was heavenly.

Francesco, sensing her build slipped a single digit, "Jesus, you're so tight." Even with a single finger, Eleanor felt unbearably full. Francesco pulsed, giving her body time to adjust around him as he continued his torment.

Eleanor was poor at muffling her moans, but when his lips met hers, he had found the best way to suppress the sounds she couldn't help but make. Eleanor let out a long moan as he managed to slip in the second digit.

She could feel herself reaching her climax at an accelerated pace, throwing her over the precipice without any warning. Eleanor convulsed on Francesco's hand as her climax overcame her, but it hadn't stopped his rhythmic movements, focusing his attention on her and solely her.

Again, Eleanor felt herself building to a second orgasm, coming quicker than the last. The second rendered her sensitive, bucking to remove his focused attention, but he was relentless. Unable to control her body, Eleanor leaned back.

The sound of glass breaking shattered her from her reality as she looked over to the windows to see what it could've been. Francesco found the culprit before Eleanor had, seeing that (with their luck) the expensive bottle of wine lay on the floor broken surrounded by a puddle of its contents.

"What was that?" The groggy sound of Henri's voice down the hall.

"It's fine!" Francesco called back; his frustration evident in his voice.

While Eleanor was upset that the bottle interrupted what could've happened next, Francesco was thanking the bottle mentally for snapping him out of what would certainly be a regrettable decision.

She vowed they would finish while he vowed he would never let himself be so weak again.