Page 68 of Winter
Inca went very still. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.”
Inca slowly reached down to grab her purse. “I think I should go.”
Luna turned away from her. “Well, that’s your thing, isn’t it? Like I said, running away.”
When Inca, still upset over the row, got back home, Nancy and Tyler were out and she breathed a sigh of relief. On the drive home she’d tried to make sense of the row with Luna. Inca felt bad; her friend was obviously conflicted, and she hadn’t helped any. She parked the truck and pulled out her cell to call Luna. No answer. She considered leaving a message, then ended the call. She’d apologize in person tomorrow.
Alone in the house for once, Inca reveled in the solitude, stripping the linen from the bed, gathering together dirty clothes and towels, loading up the washer, breathing in the scent of the detergent. She cleaned her bedroom, noting while she did the things that had changed without her noticing. A photo frame missing, books, records taken from the shelves in her room. She scanned the collection of vinyl that she had collected over the years, trying to see if they were just out of place. She frowned, trying to remember if she’d loaned them to anyone or if Nancy had been donating stuff to Goodwill without telling her. It seemed unlikely.
Sighing, she sat down on the bed. Should she call Tommaso or Raffaelo and tell them to come get her? No, she needed a night away for her body to recover, if nothing else. And besides, if she was going to go to Italy soon, then she wanted to spend some time with her parents.
And her friends.Olly.She shouldn’t have lost her temper with him. She would go see him in the morning and apologize, but warn him off Tommaso. She knew in her bones that he would never hurt her—or anyone else.
What about himself?
Inca pushed that unbidden thought away, not knowing where it came from.
When Nancy and Tyler came home, she spent the evening with them before turning in. When she went to bed, she fell asleep almost immediately.
Raffaelo knocked on Tommaso’s door. His brother was sitting up in bed, reading something on his laptop. He pushed his headphones from his head as Raff waved at him.
“Just wanted to say goodnight, brother.”
Tommaso smiled. “Goodnight, Raff. It seems strange without Inca here, doesn’t it?”
Raffaelo nodded. “It does. Well, goodnight.”
Raffaelo went back to his own bedroom and stripped. It did feel strange without Inca in his arms, or at least in his bed.Theirbed. He had to admit, their three-way …arrangement… seemed to fit them so naturally. What pleased him even more was that Tommaso seemed more stable than ever, despite the weirdness of the situation.
Raffaelo lay back and closed his eyes. Straight away he saw her lovely face and imagined her skin next to his.
I love you, Raffaelo…
He heard her voice as clear as if she were here now. The scent of her skin, the silky feel of her cunt as his cock pushed inside her. God, he wanted her so much, all of the time. He couldn’t wait until they were in Italy and free to love each other without the fear of stigma. Raffaelo had never in his life felt as wiped out by love as he did for this woman. He was still smiling when he fell asleep.
Down the hall, Tommaso sat up and re-watched the same piece of video over and over again. It was the day they had indulged in tying Inca up, but the few seconds he was watching were of Raffaelo’s cock driving in and out of Inca’s vagina. His brother’s passionate, driving thrusts were hypnotic to him, the way his dick pulled in and out of her cunt, then the ecstasy on Inca’s face when she came.
Tommaso watched it, his own hand stroking his rock-hard cock. He couldn’t figure out why watching his brother fuck the woman they both loved turned him on so much, but it did. So badly. He was almost more obsessed with watching them fuck than fucking her himself—although that was always,alwaysglorious. The few times they had taken her at the same time—God—he had been in heaven. The complete domination over her body. He cued up another video: Inca straddling Raff, their gazes locked, his hands stroking her belly, finger-fucking her navel in the way she liked while she slammed her hips hard against him, taking him in all the way.
Tommaso watched the scene over and over then jerked off, muffling his groans in his pillow. He went to the bathroom to clean up, and when he caught sight of his disheveled sight in the mirror, he almost crumpled. His green eyes were heavily circled with dark shadows, his complexion that of a heavy drinker—which he wasn’t. Puffy and seedy. The face of an addict.
What the hell is wrong that you jerk off to videos of your brother and your girlfriend?
“Mio Dio.” Tommaso Winter sank to the floor and put his head in his hands.What is wrong with me?
What the hell is wrong with me?
The next morning, Inca knocked at the door to Olly’s apartment. No answer. She knocked again and pressed her ear against the door to try and hear if the shower was running. It was early, she realized; maybe he was still asleep. She was about to knock again when the door opened. She jumped back a little and gave a nervous giggle. He had a towel wrapped around his waist.
Olly blinked, then smiled. “Hey … hey what are you doing here?” He laughed and shook his head. “I’m sorry … I mean hi, come on in.”
Inca smiled, a little taken aback—she’d expected him to be withdrawn, maybe a little cold. He waved her in, shoving a pile of dark clothes off the bed for her to sit.
“I’m sorry to interrupt you.” She glanced down at his towel, then reddened.
“Hey, no, look, you’re not—but do you mind if I just hop in the shower? I just worked out; I’m all sweaty and gross.”
