Page 71 of Prosecco with My Professor
Santo strokes my hair lazily, and I trace my fingers over his nipple before following the hair to the center of his chest.
“Time for a nap?” I ask, and he hums.
Despite my suggestion, I don’t close my eyes, and instead just listen to his heartbeat and his breathing. He must be doing the same, though, because a few minutes later he speaks.
“What do you think about when I eat your figa?”
My hand stills before I start it up again. I consider being vague—masturbating or sex or something—but then Santo was already so open-minded with me, willing to take my finger up his ass, and if you can’t be honest with a man after that, when can you?
“I mostly think about women masturbating.” Santo’s fingers in my hair keep up their steady rhythm, so I continue, telling him things I’ve never told anyone else. “Sometimes I watch porn, and I picture my favorite videos. And I enjoy watching women get off. Um, on a Sybian, specifically.” I clear my throat. The pommel-like sex toy is huge and powerful and also quite expensive. I’ve never even dreamed of owning one. “I kind of have a thing for women on Sybians.”
My head bounces once as Santo huffs a laugh. “What a coincidence. I think I could very well have a thing for you on a Sybian.”
I laugh too.
“Have you ever been with anyone who wasn’t a man?” Santo asks.
“No. I’ve only ever been with Bruce, and now you. I’ve had crushes, I suppose. I don’t know if I would want to. But it’s fun to think about.”
His arm around me squeezes, and he changes the topic. “How did you decide you wanted to try this prostate play?”
I tell him about my phone call with my friends and how Jade suggested this. “So, technically, I think you can thank her.”
“No,” he says softly. “She may have given you the idea but you were the one who was brave enough to ask me.” He tilts my chin up and gives me a soft kiss. “Thank you for a weekend I’ll never forget.”
37
Emma
“And how was it?”Jade asks from the screen of my laptop. It’s Sunday night, and Santo and I are back in our separate apartments. After unpacking my stuff, starting a load of laundry, and ordering take out, I messaged my friends to let them know I was home, and immediately they wanted to debrief. “Did you do the thing?”
I remember the feel of Santo’s body clenching around mine and the look of sheer, excruciating pleasure when he came, and I can’t help the huge smile that grows.
“Damn,” Jade says, laughing. “That good, huh?”
I put my face in my hands, laughing too. “It was so good. Like, the perfect time away. I don’t think I’d ever had that many orgasms in a weekend.” It wasn’t just the orgasms, of course, but it’s hard to explain the way Santo looked at me when he was ready for another round, or how he brought food in bed when I was too sexed-out to get up, or how when we showered together mid-afternoon yesterday, in the bright lights of the bathroom, I hadn’t felt self-conscious at all. Santo had put his hands all over me by that point, and he knew every stretch mark and freckle. Every place of my body that I didn’t like, he’d seen. And he’d still wanted me right up until we kissed goodbye.
“Good job, Santo,” Tessa cheers from her apartment in Portugal.
“Is there going to be a repeat performance?” Sara asks. She’s back home in Austin with Chris, but they’ll be flying back to Europe soon. Next weekend we’re going to Malta together to escape the winter weather.
“No,” I say, and I’m surprised how sad I sound.
“Do you want more?” Jade asks, and my friends all peer at me through their screens.
Santo and I have chemistry in bed—amazing chemistry. Unexpected chemistry. Thinking back on the weekend, I realize that there was something more important at play here, too; a part of me had always worried that the best of my life had passed. I am a forty-two-year-old divorcee and mother of three. I am bigger than all my friends, less worldly, less comfortable in my body.
And yet, instead of comparing myself to slim, elegant European women, I am having the best sex of my life.
If I can have the best sex of my life now, why can’t I have the love of my life?
Okay, back up. I have a lot of feelings about Santo, but love isn’t one of them. I respect him a lot. He is a great professor who clearly cares about his students and their education. As an ex-stepfather to Bell, he goes above and beyond what many men do when they get divorced. I know some dads who aren’t as close to their own kids as Santo is to Bell.
Most importantly, I’ve learned so much about myself over the time that I’ve known him. I am grateful for that. I like him, on top of being wildly attracted to him.
I rub my forehead, and my friends wait while I gather my thoughts. What do I want?
Next door, Oliver barks. I straighten and listen, my heartbeat racing already. What is Oliver barking at?
