Destino (32 page)

“Nonsense. Those are my cousins, the workers,” he nodded to the vineyard. She could see two men on top of a large truck, and others in the distance. “They will handle the business, and we’ll tour the old wine cellars.”

“How old is this place?”

“Over a hundred years old, before Mussolini. My grandfather bought the land, and Rocco and many other family members made it fertile.”

Rocco waved from a distance signaling for them to follow. She walked a bit ahead, around the mowed path to an older building made of wood instead of stone. When she entered the cool atmosphere it made goose bumps rise along her arms. Mira took note of the dark stone walls and large barrels lined up in the center next to blocks of steel containers for crushing grapes. She inhaled the acidic smell of fermentation and was overwhelmed by the odor. She glanced back to see Giovanni pick up some very crude looking pair of sheers with a long wooden handle. He inspected them closely.

“What’s that?”

“My uncles would use these to cut grapes free from their vines. They’d fill barrels that they wore strapped to their chest and then haul them in to be picked free of stems and leaves.”

“Wow, that seems like a lot of work.”

Giovanni hung the sheers back on the wall. “It was.” He nodded goodbye to Rocco who closed the barn door giving them privacy. “Until we bought those.”

Mira looked over in the direction he pointed out the window. She saw a tractor looking vehicle with a large container in the front and two mechanical arms that had sheers on the end.

“That is a
mietitrice meccanica,
what you would call a
mechanical harvester. It fills those containers with the amount of grapes ten harvesters could haul in within a matter of minutes as opposed to hours. They are brought into a room like this and dumped into crushers.”

The more he talked, the more he touched her. First his hand reached for hers, and then he stroked her arm. Now he was behind her, running his fingers up and down her hips. Mira relaxed against his chest as the low timber of his voice spoke smoothly against her ear. In her mind’s eye she saw a family of brothers, relocated to Chianti from Sicily, out in the fields doing honest hard work. How did that life lead them down the path of a life of crime?

“Sounds interesting,” she said, folding her arms and pressing into his tall frame.

“The crushers?”

“Yes. I thought most of it was done with their feet?” she asked softly as he kissed the inside of her neck.

“Would you like to?”

“No,” she chuckled.

“I think it’ll be sexy to see you stomping grapes for me.” He let his hand ease from her hip down the front of her thigh.

“Is that so?” she sighed.

Giovanni let her go, and Mira collected her thoughts again. She stepped away from temptation to get a closer look at the large containment barrels, as if she cared.

“Come with me. The tour isn’t over.” He again captured her hand and led her to the back of the barn to a closed wooden door. He opened it, and she saw the stone steps that went to a dark cellar. Hesitant at first she braved the steps, careful to follow close in the dark cramped hall. An unknown light source beckoned them at the end. They arrived to find it to be from a single bulb in the center of the wine cellar, and walls of bottled wines, some covered in cobwebs. There was a small bench and table at the back of the room with a ceramic bucket used in tastings to pour out excess wine. To her left there lay a thick yellow quilt with a white picnic blanket on top. She counted three bottles of wine and a tray of meats and cheeses. Giovanni led her over to the large blanket.

“You planned this?” she asked. “A picnic in a wine cellar?”

“Zia honored my wish. You will meet her soon. Shall we?” he said.

She smiled at how sweet and secluded the setting was. With him a dusty wine cellar felt like the Taj Mahal. He reached behind his back and removed his gun. He turned to put it up over on one of the shelves. Mira dropped to her knees. She picked a bottle with its black lettering and read the family name across it. “It’s a 1987 Chianti. Only two years old?”

“It’s from our best harvest. Mark my words, ten years from now people will proclaim 1987 the best crop Chianti has ever produced.”

She liked how he spoke of wine, how confident he was. It was the kind of strength most women found attractive in a man. After the long drive, she was a bit hungry. She lifted the lid to the basket to find fresh baked bread wrapped in red napkins. “What’s for lunch?”

“
Prosciutto
and
soprassata.
Think of it as different salamis and cold meats. The cheese is fresh. Zia makes it and the olive oil too, from scratch. This here is
raveggiolo
cheese you should spread across sliced bread.” He stretched out and laid down on his side, observing her. She took the lead to fix their tiny plates and spread the cheese as he suggested over the sliced loaves. She found a container of plump olives, her favorites, and fed him one from her fingers.

“I like when you feed me, care for me,” he winked.

“So you’re the kind of man that wants a woman to take care of him?”

He nodded.

“That’s not attractive in the States,” she smiled.

Giovanni looked as if he could give a shit about what men in the States preferred. “You know what I would really like?” he asked as he poured them wine, and she tasted everything she could sample from the trays. She stopped mid-chew and looked to him. Swallowing she blinked curiously. “What?”

“To taste Chianti from your nipples.”

Mira laughed thinking his request no more than one of his saucy jokes. He’d made a few since they became lovers. In the shower he talked of her pussy as if it were a fruit and constantly made references to the softness of the skin between her thighs. At first she blushed inwardly at his frank manner. Now the words were warm and enticing. “Are you serious?”

“About your nipples? Yes.”

She rolled her eyes, shaking her head. But when she looked around, she couldn’t deny how isolated they were. And God help her, but she loved the way he sucked her nipples. Rising she dusted off her hands and chewed what was left in her mouth. “Fine. It’s a deal. And if I let you, then you must do something I want.”

He drank from the bottle staring at her breasts.

“Do you agree?”

“What do you want?”

“To know the story of your parents. How they met, how they died. The entire story of their love affair.”

Surprise siphoned the blood from his face. He stared at her silent for a pause before speaking. His body language sent her a private message to be careful how far she pushed him. Doors once open cannot be closed. What could she gain by unlocking the mysteries of his past, how far did she want their lives to intertwine? She considered taking back the flirty challenge. But the words didn’t form. Giovanni’s gaze shifted away. “To gain my pleasure I must exchange my pain, is that your proposal?” He sat upright.

“Is it that painful of a tale? I don’t want to pressure you into anything. I only wanted to know a bit more, after meeting your family. You’ve shared so much, I only… I guess I’m curious to know more.”

The dim lighting within the wine cellar covered his face in partial shadows. Still she could read his pain, feel it, and part of her even understood it, though a full understanding wouldn’t come until much later. “I will tell you the story of my parents. Now undress for me.”

It had become clear why this man had a preference for the flimsy silk wrap around dresses she owned. His insistence that she wear this dress in particular today would soon prove essential in her seduction of him. She untied the belt and parted the fabric to reveal her black bra and panty set from her intimacies collection. The unveiling of her body underneath made his beautiful eyes sparkle like crystals. The lacey black bra cups housing her medium sized breasts were connected by a thin satin bow. The same tie was knotted to the left and right side of her panty, keeping them snug and low on her hips. He drank more of the wine from the bottle with his gaze sweeping over her body.

“Undress.” He ordered.

She smiled. “This is a wine tasting. My nipples yes, my navel yes, nothing more. My panties stay on.”

“I want the knickers off.” He frowned, his eyes level under drawn brows.

“Not part of the deal.”

He stared at her for a moment then nodded that he agreed. Mira untied the bra in the front and shook it off her shoulders. Giovanni moved the food. The wine glasses and the basket of food were set aside on the cool concrete floor. His hand reached for hers, and she allowed his help to lower her down to the blanket and stretch out before him.

She was gorgeous. Undressing her had become his favorite thing. However, there was nothing more exciting than having her undress herself. She laid on her back before him with one knee raised, beautiful, submissive and dangerously sexy. Her smooth, brown skin, hair thick as sable, and smoky eyes made him a bit hesitant. What if he gave his heart to this woman and she never truly felt for him what he felt when he was with her? Was the risk worth taking?

Her mouth and lips, begged to be kissed. If he did he’d climb on top of her and take her as he had done the night before. Lying before him now he was once again reminded of the Egyptian goddess statue they saw in the gardens of
villa Melzi
. Giovanni reached for the dark bottle of wine and her gaze lifted to the action as it hovered, then he poured magenta grapes to the center of her chest. The stream slid downward to her neck so he had to pour with a more concentrated attempt over her left then right nipples. Wine splashed and her chest heaved, causing the crimson drops to spread and drip along the underside of her breasts, down the slender curve of her belly.

“You’re pouring too much. I’ll be all sticky!” she squealed.

“Trust me, not one drop will go wasted.”

Licking her lips, she laid perfectly still waiting for whatever was to come next. Giovanni took his time tracing his trigger finger around her areola. He pinched her stiff nipple. She sighed. The sexy tension stretched tighter between them. He hadn’t shared why this cellar of all places would be a place he wanted to bring her to. Often he’d fly his plane out here, drink wine, and think over his troubles, away from those that needed him. He loved the quiet isolated feel he got here, much more than at the wine cellars he had on his estate in Portici. And he had grown equally fond of the peace and contentment she’d given him in the short time they’d known each other.

His face lowered for the first sample of her skin laced in his family’s wine, and his focus became singular. He brushed his lips over her warm skin, and then flicked his tongue at the dark berry while using his free hand to ease down her damp, sticky tummy over her mons. She parted her thighs an inch and his pulse accelerated. He aided her by cupping her pussy in his palm. Now he was ready to taste her. Holding her intimately he swirled his tongue over the circumference of her nipple then licked and tasted the swell of her breast. He could feel her core grow hot and damp against his palm as he used his tongue to swipe her right breast clean of Chianti. His gaze flickered up, and he could see the frozen gasp of pleasure on her parted lush lips. Caught between wanting more and suppressing the urge to say it, she was his goddess and he her King.

Descending into undiluted pleasure, he tasted everywhere he could along her chest, grateful for the privilege. Easing aside the seat of her panty, he eased two fingers into her tight channel. The soft walls of her inner channel warmly stretched and accepted his invasion. She immediately brought her hand to his as if she had the strength or will to resist him. Giovanni let go a deep chuckle when she failed to maintain her grip and shuddered as he masterfully fucked her with his fingers. He latched on to a quivering nipple and sucked harder. Mira’s hold on his wrist weakened and dropped away. She rolled her ass and parted her thighs to pump her pelvis upward. He longed to strip down to nothing and fuck her raw, no condom. He wanted to desperately ram every inch of his manhood into her and fill her womb with his seed. What was he thinking? How dangerous had this affair become? She was now his new weakness.

Instead of resisting her hold on him, he used his fingers to elicit a soft chant of submission from her plush lips. While Giovanni observed her climaxing under his watchful stare, she opened her eyes and locked onto his.

He kissed her. Soft, and then hard, her lips and his tongue begged for a union far beyond sex. Neither of them could comprehend the implications this early in their courtship. Still he kissed her like a man would his woman and made a silent vow. He’d do anything to ensure no other man ever knew the pleasure loving her could bring. She returned his kiss with a hunger that belied her outward calm. He moved his mouth over hers, devouring her softness until she weakened and became his again. His lips left hers, and he stared into her lovely face.

“Are you okay, Bella?”

“Always, with you always,” she said softly.

“We can take the lunch with us.”

“Where?” she half-moaned with her lids sliding shut as he rubbed the sensation of her quaking orgasm into her pussy.

“I’ve shared my pleasure with you. You asked to see my pain. For that we must take a short drive.”