“You couldn’t wait for me, Valentina?” His voice is husky and oozes with desire, desire for me.
“I’ve yet to come,” I purr, allowing my legs to fall to the sides, giving him a better look at what I know causes his mouth to water, showing him what he yearns to taste, to touch. Displaying what once was his and still is.
He unhurriedly unbuckles the black Italian leather belt around his trim waist, letting it hang open as he slowly works his button and zipper with his thick, long fingers. He then pulls his belt out inch by glorious inch, one loop at a time, as he watches me rub my soaked slit.
“My pussy is more beautiful now than I remember when I …” he sighs, not saying it. He never says it.
He pushes his thumbs slowly under the waistband of his undone slacks, providing me a glimpse of the deep-cut muscles that form a V.
I lick my lips, wetting them, preparing them for him.
My love.
He pushes his slacks down slightly, just enough to tease and torment me, exposing the thick root of his cock.
My insides clench. I want so badly to ease the burn.
“Wait for me, Valentina,” he whispers as I watch him push his pants farther down.
He is beautiful.
His cock is growing thicker before my eyes.
He pushes his slacks farther down.
I know his cock like it is a part of me. I know how much is still covered.
“You want my cock.” It’s not a question. It’s a statement. He knows it.
Yet, I still tell him, “Yes.”
He pushes his pants down fully now and stands up.
He is the only man I have been with whose cock doesn’t stand erect. It can’t. His thick, heavy cock hangs between his legs perfectly, resting against tight, large, magnificent balls.
I inhale the salty scent of the sea air, willing him closer so I can smell his manly scent over it.
He grips his cock, swiping his thumb across the broad head. Then he lifts it up and rubs his forefinger against his thumb, spreading the pre-cum between them as he walks closer to me.
“Would you like to taste my cum, Valentina?”
I nod.
Walking closer to my naked body, flames burn behind his eyes. Flames that haven’t lost their heat, their luster, their desire for me.
“Move closer to the end of the bed. I want your beautiful hair falling off its edge while you look up at me as I feed you.”
I turn my body, letting my head hang over the edge of the bed as I look up at him. “Feed me …”
I hear the whispers. Whispers then the giggles.
My loves.
I roll to my side, wishing for just ten more minutes of sleep as the bed dips behind then in front of me.
“Feed us! Feed us!”
The giggling begins, and then the jumping.
I open my eyes to my reality and try to sit up while my girls, my wild ones, jump on my bed, demanding to be fed.
I grab them both, one in each arm, and pull them down onto the mattress before tickling them.
“What would you like this morning?”
“Pancakes!”
“Go brush your teeth and give me ten minutes.”
I get a kiss on each cheek before they scramble off the bed and run for the door.
Standing under the water in the two-person shower, I let myself remember what I was … before them.
Trouble is said to come in threes, but not in my life. It has always come in twos. Like when my parents died in a double-engine aircraft, on the second of February, leaving behind two children—me and my brother Dominic. And in my life, I thought I had loved two men. One was no such thing. He was a liar, a manipulative snake who groomed me from the time I was my daughters’ ages to believe he was my savior. The other was in fact my savior. He was my love in the purest and truest form. Until he betrayed me.
Now I am without a lover, except in my dreams, every night, the same one as last night.
My true love used to fuck women, two women at a time. In his belief, those women wanted each other more than they wanted him. Therefore, he was free from the responsibility and burdens that caring for a heart held. He did not want to cause anyone’s heart to break.
Two weeks after he betrayed me, I found out I was pregnant. Two weeks after that, I found out I was pregnant with twins.
Two.
My beautiful girls, Francesca and Antoinette, were born on April fourth. Double trouble. And they certainly are.
My identical twins are mischievous, little beauties. Some days, they try tricking me into believing they are the other. Last night, it was during teeth brushing. Antoinette, or Toinette as we call her, brushed her teeth twice. As exhausted as I was, it almost went unnoticed. But having grown up with an overprotective brother and a bodyguard turned lover as my biggest role models, coupled with what I have been through in my life, I notice things. And this, I noticed immediately.
Toinette is the quieter of the two. She likes softer colors. The pale pink paint on her toes as opposed to Francesca, or Cesca’s, plum was a dead giveaway that landed them both in trouble.
After breakfast, I braid their long, black hair and make sure their uniforms are properly pressed before I take them to school and drop them off. My daughters attend a private Catholic school where they learn about religion, as I believe it’s important to have that foundation because, without it, what is there to hope for aside from material things?
I want my girls to be strong like me. I want them to hold their values and beliefs so tightly it becomes an extension of who they are, like their father. I want them to know right from wrong, regardless of what life shows them. I want them to be a perfect part of two people—me and him—only different.
After dropping the girls off, I hit my morning yoga class before heading home to work.
In my office, I smile as I look up at the sign my aunt Joe gave me when I took my old lifestyle and fused it into my current one. I was once a half-assed student who lost my dream of working with animals when the animal Benito ruined me. What I became great at is partying and posting on social media. People loved it. Then I went from a socialite to a single mom, and they apparently liked that just as much.
I began getting products mailed to me from baby companies to review and promote after posting monthly pictures of my fast-growing belly. I stuck my nose up at most of the products, and Aunt Joe found them in the garbage. She talked me into giving away what I didn’t like. Overnight, my social media likes blew up. Then I began getting two of each product sent to me; one to keep and one to giveaway. I also started getting checks and direct payments into my account for doing so. My popularity grew, and so did an income I didn’t really need but appreciate.
So now, while my girls are at school, I do video tutorials and post random things about my day and my girls.
Still blows my mind that I get paid for this.