A BOLT FROM THE BLUE SKIN
1771 Words
Everything was organized down to the smallest detail and as soon as they arrived in the charming Venice Beach they took possession of a suite.
"But it's beautiful!" Chiara exclaimed when she saw the hotel room.
He took her chin in one hand, flattering her for the umpteenth time.
"You are beautiful, you always have been."
His every word and gesture helped push her higher and higher on his wish list.
"Have you always liked me?"
A streak of insecurity crossed his incredible face.
"Are you kidding? I would have paid gold to get my hands on you for years, but your brother William forbade me."
She was pleasantly shocked by that statement and after a few seconds she stopped, shocked.
"So that's why you didn't come home to play PlayStation with him anymore?" he asked sadly, hitting the mark.
"Yeah, I was afraid I wouldn't be able to control myself, I've always wanted you so much," he confessed with a rapt look and she smiled pleased.
"Now you can give vent to all your fantasies."
She looked him over provocatively as she stood in front of the large mirror.
"Oh, you bet," he reached her from behind, wrapping his tattooed arm around her possessively.
Downstairs, someone was already eager to come out into the open and she provocatively rubbed her perfect ass against the bulge in his jeans, never taking her eyes off his face.
This was a full-blown declaration of war, he thought, immediately pulling off her shirt to feel her hot flesh.
She would return to Palermo and those days together would remain only a precious memory to be carefully guarded. Yes, but now she was there in front of him and she was biting her lip extremely intriguing.
She turned to kiss him, once again more and more greedily as if she were short of breath without his breath and always with her eyes open so as not to miss even a second of that show.
Then she pulled off his shirt, increasingly hungry, and pressed her breasts to his chest, bringing his excitement to the stars.
Now she was in charge, dominant, mistress and self-confident like never before.
She pushed him onto the bed and urgently opened his jeans, still looking into his hungry eyes.
"You are mine now," she said with a strange light in her eyes as she climbed on top of him, straddling him.
Intoxicated by the scent of her breasts he sucked them as if they were the sweetest nectar on earth.
When he tried to touch her, she pinned his arms to the bed and he went crazy.
No woman had ever ridden him with such strength and passion.
No one had ever dominated him in such a total and unconditional way.
Those two days in Venice Beach were a continuous alternation of roles, sometimes he was the one taking her forcefully, other times she was the one mounting him with passion, other times instead they simply spent hours kissing tenderly with their eyes open and their waists tight.
As they were sailing back to Los Angeles, where he was supposed to go to work in a few hours, Carlo thought back with a smile to all the jokes and laughs they had made to each other, to all the secrets they had confided in each other and to all the wasted time they had tried to make up for by telling each other about their past lives.
During the journey home she never left his side, holding his hand and kissing him whenever she could. Carlo had never been crazy about simpering, only with her it was different. If she wasn't the one looking for him, it was him who would reach out to her to even touch her knee, like their first dinner at the restaurant. And then they would suddenly find themselves laughing at nothing, once again attracted by a terrible magnetic force.
He had to be at work at ten, so once on the bike, there was no need to hit the gas to have her firmly pressed against him. They had plenty of time to take a nice shower together, the boy planned as he opened the garage door.
As they took off their helmets, a voice behind them stopped them before the irreparable happened when they were still half a meter away.
"Good girl, I see you got to work right away."
Carlo immediately intercepted the intruder on his property and tightened his helmet aggressively.
It must have been the asshole.
"Daniele, but he's my brother's friend," she objected, bewildered.
"I don't give a s**t that he's your brother's friend," he shouted as he came within inches of her.
His arrogant attitude could perhaps be justified, but in no case tolerated by the owner of the house who, without making a scene, told him curtly: "You have thirty seconds to leave".
Daniele was taller than him, but decidedly thinner and less trained. He had certainly been a handsome man, only now he had only the emaciated look of a bookworm and the repressed aggression of a failure.
The two men found themselves dangerously facing each other, ready to give each other a good beating if Chiara hadn't stepped in to separate them.
"Enough," he shouted. "What did you come to do?"
"I came to ask you to marry me, think what an i***t I am"
At least on that she completely agreed with him.
Then Chiara who was left speechless in front of her ex-boyfriend's statement. "If you want to talk to me, I'll be at the Delano. I'll leave again tomorrow at noon, because, you know, I'm also working for you, in addition to doing my thesis".
They saw him walk away and then they both looked at each other, shocked by his unexpected arrival.
There was no longer any trace of the lively Chiara she had enjoyed in the last few days. Her eyes were dull and melancholic, her gait disconsolate and she couldn't believe that three sentences from that asshole had been enough to erase all the wonderful moments spent together.
Please tell me you don't plan on going there.
I'm very conflicted, but at least I owe him an explanation.
-Do you want me to come with you?
-No, no don't worry, I'll go there, talk to him and come back.
-Okay, don't make me worry.
-I'll arrive in time to go with you to the club.
When the taxi Carlo had called arrived, he greeted him quickly without even looking him in the eye.
"See you soon," then she disappeared.
From that moment on Carlo began to count the minutes and do anything to avoid thinking about who she was with at that moment.
To keep from going crazy, he went into the guest room to look at Chiara's unpacked suitcase. He took the white dress she had been wearing during their first kiss in his hands and brought it close to his face. Her fresh smell made his head spin and he was almost ready to jump on his motorbike to go get her.
Calm.
She had to stay calm, she would be back soon, maybe she was already in the taxi home, he tried to convince himself as the minutes passed and she still showed no signs of life.
He got ready for work as he always did, only to find that everything had changed irremediably.
While he was showering he saw his cell phone flashing and immediately went out to check the message.
"Go to work, I'll talk to you later."
He had the instinct to throw that damn phone at the mirror and shatter them both into a thousand pieces.
Why had he given him that cold, telegraphic order? And above all, why had he written "we'll talk later" instead of "see you later"?
Within minutes he had finished getting ready and was on his motorbike, heading for the Hotel Delano.
He could hardly see the road in front of him because his vision was so blurred by anger and unfortunately also by fear.
Fear of making a huge blunder by showing up there.
She didn't want him, or she would have asked him to come get her. No, she wanted to be with her ex-boyfriend, future husband, or whoever the hell the i***t was who had the brilliant idea of coming to Los Angeles. Sure, at least in that he had shown some balls, trying to get his woman back, but that wasn't the point.
The point was that Charles had never been so jealous of anyone in his entire life as he was at that moment, of her.
He angrily closed the visor of his helmet and sped off towards the club less than a kilometer from that damned hotel. When Felix saw him coming, he immediately knew that something was wrong. He had never seen his friend's sunny face so grim and tense.
"Everything OK?"
"A fairy tale, and you?" was his sarcastic reply.
"Where is the woman who brought about the chaos?" he asked ironically.
"Let's forget it," he replied in a serious tone, reaching his post at the bar.
He set his cell phone to vibrate and then put it in the front pocket of his jeans to make sure he could hear it.
Luckily Carlo could distract himself with work and his usual show, but deep down he just wanted to destroy every single bottle to vent some of his anger.
Not even the beautiful girls in front of him managed to distract him, so much so that at midnight, after more than three and a half hours of press silence from Chiara, he thought it was time to get really drunk so he wouldn't feel that sharp pain in his chest anymore.
It was obvious that they were going to get back together, or probably already had. Maybe they had even f****d, he thought with disgust and immediately went straight for a cold bottle of tequila.
"Hey, my friend," he saw Felix approaching his ear. "You were right not to want to fall in love because in this state you just can't stand it."
What?
Carlo Martinez in love? Please!
"Don't talk bullshit," she glared at him as she continued working.
Felix gave him a challenging look.
"So, if I find two girls to have fun with, can I count on your help?"
The thought of going with any other woman made him nauseous. Or maybe it was all that tequila on an empty stomach?
"Of course," was the answer dictated by alcohol and his broken heart.
- Writer
