Page 257 of Daddy, Take Me Away
Jesus fucking Christ.
“Let’s not mess up that pretty window print, honey.” Amadeo guides my rubbery body to the bedroom, and over the bed. My new favorite position. The crackle of the condom wrapper makes my clit jump, needy again already.
Ass on display, legs wide, Amadeo Pellegrino enters me like he enters a room, with a commanding and confident presence.
Stretching me full and reigniting the pulsing of my orgasm, he moves inside me. My swift intake of breath when he reaches around my hip to use his hand on my clit urges him on and he strokes both inside and out of me faster.
I come embarrassingly fast but he doesn’t say anything. And only when I’ve had two more, does he come himself.
Cleaning us both up, he helps me move to the top of the bed, where he wraps me in his arms and I close my eyes.
“Zoë? Nap’s over.”
Amadeo’s voice pulls me from my sleep. Stretching like a cat, I smile at him. “Are you sure? It’s pretty nice in here.”
He’s standing at the end of the bed fully dressed in a pair of dark slacks and a crisp white button-down. His hair is smooth and groomed and he must have shaved because his shadow scruff is long gone.
I breathe in his scent, something spicy but also fresh, and feel a pull low in my abdomen for him.
“I want you again already. You’re turning me into a sex addict.”
“I think that’s a fake thing actors use to get away with cheating on their spouses.” He smirks. “But flattering nonetheless.”
“Come back in here.” I pat the bed.
He shakes his head and grabs my ankle to pull me to the bottom of the bed. “Lunch,” he enunciates. “I need to feed you. How else will you have energy for all our adventures?”
My belly flips. “Adventures?”
“I thought we’d snorkel the reef after lunch and then after my meeting tomorrow…” He pauses, maybe for effect but the way his eyes move over my face it seems like he’s drinking in my expression, committing it to memory. “Hang gliding?”
“Hang gliding?” I wait for nerves to unsettle my stomach, but they don’t come.
“Milo hooked me up with his guy, so I set it up.”
I jump up to my knees and wrap my arms around his neck. “You’re amazing.”
He looks down at me and kisses my nose in the sweetest way. “I thought you weren’t really an adrenaline junkie.”
I shrug. “I guess I was wrong. Or maybe everything with you feels like a safe thrill.”
A week later and we’ve gone snorkeling, hang gliding, parasailing, spelunking and bungee jumping—the latter of which is definitely not my thing—and I’ve had the best time of my life.
Not all of it was easy for me, but having Amadeo there, patient and encouraging, I enjoyed each experience.
There have been fancy dinners, sailing trips at sunset, whale watching with canapés and champagne, and lunches at Tropico, where I’ve tasted at least half the menu and had too many mouth orgasms to count.
And better still, picnics on our cliff, which have ended with our clothes scattered amongst the rocks and many real orgasms too.
I doubt I’ll ever top the things we’ve done together and maybe I don’t want to.
As I sit on my bed, looking at my calendar app, depression creeps in. I’ve got less than a week left here. I’m not sure how two weeks went by as quickly as they did, but it’s gone, and I don’t know what I’m going to do without Amadeo as a regular fixture in my life.
I’ve spent a little time with my family but most of my time has been spent with Amadeo. And not just because being around Mark and Fiona is suffocating. Amadeo is just so fun. And it’s true fun with zero expectations.
Without the constant distraction of having to document every single second of this trip, I’ve been able to live in the moment and enjoy the things I’ve missed because I had my eye on my phone trying to get the perfect shot.
I haven’t posted a single thing to my accounts. It hasn’t even crossed my mind. And I don’t want to share the pictures I’ve taken here, even though they’re nothing special, they feel too personal to post.
