Roman Rhapsody Pt. 01

He positioned himself over me with the precision of a predator, his body pressing against mine. The palpable heat of his desire resonated through me as I felt the undeniable proof of his arousal. The soft strands of hair on his strong, muscular legs brushed against my velvety skin, creating an intoxicating friction. His warm breath danced on the nape of my neck, sending electric shivers down my spine.

In a moment charged with anticipation, he spoke the last words I would ever hear as a virgin: "Are you ready?" His voice, although soft, rang with authority. A whirlwind of emotions -- nervousness, excitement, anticipation -- swept over me. I found my voice amidst the storm, responding with a breathless, "Yes..."

A tender smile graced his lips as he kissed me again, his tenderness reassuring and calming my racing heart. "When we're both ready," he whispered, his voice carrying a promise of shared pleasure.

His lips parted from mine, and a sensation of both pleasure and surprise rippled through me as his teeth lightly grazed my neck. A trail of teasing warmth followed as his tongue traced its way along my skin. In that moment, he expressed his appreciation for my taste, his words blending with the electrifying touch.

He trailed kisses along my neck, each one sending a shiver down my spine. As his lips moved lower, I found myself arching my back in anticipation. A hot breath brushed against my collarbone and I gasped, my heart racing. Suddenly, he pulled away and with nimble grace, he positioned himself between my legs. I gasped at the sight of him, a flush creeping up my cheeks. I couldn't believe how huge he was, every inch of him throbbing with anticipation. I was eager for what was to come, my body aching for him.

As he positioned himself, he wrapped his strong hands around my throat. I felt a mix of nervous anticipation and pure desire. The moment his body slid into mine, a jolt of electricity pulsed through me. Our eyes locked in a searing gaze, and I could see the raw pleasure reflected in his expression. With each thrust, his powerful thighs flexed and rippled, driving him deeper and deeper inside me. I gasped as I felt him hit that spot, sending a shockwave of sensation cascading through me. His eyes never left mine as he continued to move in perfect rhythm, his body a symphony of strength and pleasure. It was as though we were connected, soul to soul, his every move designed to drive me over the edge. I knew this man was something special.

"You are mine," he said as he released a little bit of pressure around my neck and kissed my lips. He continued his forceful movements, pushing deeper each time, while I gasped for breath. He moved his shoulder down and tucked his chin into my shoulder, planting a single, sharp kiss to my throat. His warm breath, tinged with a hint of pleasure, slipped over my pulse and he groaned in approval as I arched into him. His thrusts increased in intensity and I felt pleasure ripple through my body as I fought for breath. Time seemed to distort as we moved together. Each grip, each thrust felt amplified, carrying an emotional weight that matched its physical intensity. "I love how you feel, how much you want me... you are mine," he voiced out, every syllable sending shivers through my mind and body. I gasped as he quickly entered me again, both of his hands still around my throat, his eyes burning with desire. He leaned in close, gently kissing my neck as he thrust deepers.

With a sudden motion, Roberto's palm made contact with the side of my ass -- a sharp sensation that echoed throughout the room and inside my mind. A sharp gasp escaped my lips, and my body jolted in response. The sting radiated from the point of impact, quickly intensifying into a fiery warmth. Still thrusting powerfully, each subsequent strike elicited a symphony of sensations--sudden jolts of pain entwined with a rush of endorphins. My body arched and strained against the restraints, surrendering to the pleasure-pain that coursed through me.

With each strike, the intensity grew, pushing me further into a heightened state of arousal. The room was filled with the rhythmic symphony of smacks, punctuated by her gasps and moans. My senses heightened, I became acutely aware of every sound and sensation--the sharp sting on my skin, the warmth spreading through my flesh, and the overwhelming presence of his dominant energy.

My mind was a whirlpool of sensation, lost in the rhythm of our bodies moving as one. Suddenly, with a powerful thrust that took my breath away, Roberto took me over the edge. The world around me seemed to shatter as a sea of pleasure washed over me. I screamed in pleasure as I felt wave after wave of intense pleasure wash over me. My body trembled and quaked as I felt every last ripple of pleasure pulsating in my body. With my eyes still glued to his, I felt him collapse against me, our bodies entwined in a passionate embrace. He shuddered and sighed as I felt him pulse inside me. We lay entwined, our heavy breathing gradually settling into a comfortable rhythm. In the silence, I could feel the echoes of our connection reverberating around the room, permeating the afterglow. The depth of what we had just experienced began to sink in, slowing down time as we basked in the aftermath of our shared intimacy.

As we lay entangled in the afterglow, the taste of salt on our lips and our skin glistening in the soft light, I couldn't help but marvel at the powerful connection we had formed. The echoes of our passion hung in the air, a testament to our shared experience. No words were needed--the look in his eyes said it all. I knew that this was more than just a fleeting encounter--we had formed something life-changing and beautiful. Content and filled with love and gratitude, I snuggled into Roberto's chest, knowing that our time together that night would be something that neither of us would ever forget.

CHAPTER 3

As dawn broke, its first rays crept over the ancient Roman skyline, bathing the bedroom in an enchanting half-light. Memories of last night seared in my mind, the shared warmth in our entwined bodies whispering tales of a passionate dance only lovers know.

Turning in our crumpled sheets, I found myself gazing at Roberto's peaceful, slumbering visage. His refined, sculptured features appeared disarmingly serene in sleep, suggesting a gentleness that contradicted the formidable presence I had come to know. I found myself drawn to him, snuggling closer, pressing my cheek against the steady rhythm of his strong, expansive chest.

The gradual shift in his breathing signaled his return to consciousness. His eyes flickered open and a smile began to unfold. "Buongiorno," his husky voice murmured, carrying the warmth of a thousand sunrises.

"Last night was quite something," I responded, the corners of my mouth mirroring his smile.

"You could have this every night... if you choose to be with me. Today, let me give you a tour of Rome, my love. Let's explore the Eternal City together."

His words of exploring Rome hardly swayed my attention, for it was enthralled by the man lying next to me; a man whose toned physique could rival the sculptures of ancient Roman gods! My desires for him flared anew. Shifting my position, I straddled his hips and began to tug at his trousers, the white fabric of his underwear barely concealing his arousal.

Roberto, however, gently pushed my hands away, correcting his attire. A playful smirk danced on his lips as he wagged a finger at me. "I'm sorry, cara mia. You only get a sneak peek. And that... well, that was merely a taste of what I can offer you every night, if you choose to let me own you and be your dominant."

His mere presence was intoxicating, a continuous crescendo of desire that kept me on the brink of euphoria.

Choosing to accompany him for the city tour seemed a natural decision; the thought of parting ways, even temporarily, felt unimaginable.

He prepared a humble breakfast of espresso and a croissant in his kitchen before we stepped out into the crisp morning air. His fingers entwined with mine, he led me towards a gleaming Ferrari that sat regally in his driveway.

As we journeyed towards the heart of Rome, the allure of him masterfully controlling the manual transmission was irresistible. There was something incredibly arousing about observing this man dominate the mechanical beast under his control. I found my gaze often straying to his side, drinking in the tantalizing allure of his chiseled profile, which was somehow even more enticing than a direct gaze.

Before long, we were in the heart of Rome. Somehow, in this city of perpetual motion, he miraculously found a parallel parking spot a short stroll away from the Roman Forum.

As we made our way towards the time-etched ruins, a flurry of white birds swooped above us, their graceful dance echoing the dissipating hues of dawn in the maturing summer sky.

In the midst of our silent admiration, an unasked question slipped off my tongue. "How old are you?" I asked, suddenly aware that I'd never thought to inquire.

"Twenty-four," he replied, his gaze never straying from the path ahead. "And you?"

"Twenty," I replied, realizing the contrast in our ages.

The revelation of his tender age surprised me. How could such youthful vigor manifest such mastery in lovemaking? The intimate dance of last night, I imagined, must have been a result of years of honing and expertise.

"How... how is it that you're only twenty-four and yet, you were such a maestro in bed last night?" I couldn't resist asking.

His chuckle was lighthearted, unperturbed. "Let's just say, I started early. High school was a whirlwind of romantic pursuits. I was popular with the girls, you see. That gave me ample opportunity to learn. But the life of a flirt doesn't truly appeal to me. I seek monogamy, a sincere commitment to one woman who would willingly surrender to my lead."

A shiver of excitement spiraled through me. The thought of surrendering to his desires, becoming his submissive, stirred a profound longing within me.

Suddenly, the vibration from my phone broke the tranquillity. Retrieving it from my pocket, I saw my mom's contact flashing on the screen. She was likely checking if I'd arrived in Italy unscathed.

"Hello," I greeted.

"Jenna!" her voice echoed, laced with an exhilarating blend of anticipation and worry. "How's Rome?"

I cast a glance at Roberto, who was leading the way, seemingly undisturbed. "It's beyond what I ever imagined," I admitted.

"Stay safe, darling, and I can't wait to hear all about your adventures when you return."

The call ended shortly thereafter, and a sudden realization struck me like a thunderbolt. How could I ever be with Roberto? My roots were in America. Despite my deepening feelings, I couldn't abandon my life back home to dwell indefinitely in Italy. Even if the desire was there, the reality of immigration laws limited me to a mere three months' stay as a tourist. Beyond that, I'd be nothing more than an illegal alien.

"Roberto," I began, my voice tinged with uncertainty, "my heart yearns to be your submissive. But... it's just not practical. I'm rooted in America, I can't make my life here. And even if I wanted to, my tourist visa only allows a three-month stay."

He merely smiled, his confidence unshaken. "That's a minor issue, cara mia. I have influential friends. Things can be arranged. Don't forget, this country is, in many ways, under the control of powerful circles. Visa regulations are trifles we can sidestep. And as for your ties to America, my private jet is at our disposal for as frequent a visit as you'd like."

And just like that, my anxiety seemed to dissipate. We spent the day immersed in the awe-inspiring antiquity of the Roman Forum, the monumental grandeur of the Pantheon, the charming allure of the Trevi Fountain. We explored majestic cathedrals, indulged in the diverse palette of Italian cuisine, and finally, hand in hand, we watched the sunset paint the sky above the Circus Maximus with hues of romance.

Roberto extended an invitation to stay with him, an offer I found impossible to decline. Later that evening, I gathered my luggage from my hotel and relocated to his opulent guest suite.

As the clock struck ten, we were nestled in the cozy ambiance of the living room, captivated by the mesmerizing dance of the flames in the hearth, when the front door creaked open. Turning around, we were met with the sight of Roberto's parents and a young woman crossing the threshold.

Their nonchalant reactions upon seeing me didn't go unnoticed; perhaps Roberto's handsome allure invited a constant parade of companions.

"Let me introduce you to my family," Roberto offered, drawing me out of my thoughts.

"This is my mother, Federica, my father, Guido, and my younger sister, Letizia."

Federica and Guido offered polite nods, their limited English possibly restricting a more engaging interaction. Letizia, however, extended her hand with a friendly smile.

"It's a pleasure to meet you. Welcome to our home," she greeted warmly, her English flawless but for a trace of an Italian accent. Casting a playful glance at Roberto, she added, "This one's quite the charmer, isn't he?"

Throughout the rest of the evening, Roberto's parents seemed rather detached, perhaps viewing me as just another addition to their son's constant stream of companions. His sister, however, proved to be far more welcoming.

Letizia joined me by the fireplace while Roberto disappeared to freshen up for bed. We indulged in lively conversation, sharing our interests, our dreams, our day-to-day lives. Then, out of the blue, Letizia made an unexpected proposition.

"Would you like to attend a fashion event? My parents are hosting one in Rome tomorrow night. Would you be interested?" she asked.

I hesitated, "I don't know," I admitted. "I'm just a small-town girl; I'm not accustomed to things like that."

"Think about it," Letizia encouraged, her tone both gentle and persuasive.

The next day, bathed in the soft, golden sunlight of the Roman morning, I stepped onto the cobblestones of Piazza Navona. It was a vibrant tableau of architectural grandeur: elegant palazzos bordering the square, an intricate fountain rising like a stone symphony in the center, and a magnificent church looming regally at its heart.

As the sounds of the bustling marketplace mingled with the rhythmic patter of the fountain, I made my way towards a boutique nestled in a quaint corner. A soft chime announced my arrival as I pushed the door open, stepping from the sun-drenched square into the hushed intimacy of the shop.

The interior was a symphony of textiles, colors, and patterns. Dresses of all shapes and styles hung from elegant, wrought-iron racks, creating a visual treat of vivid silks, whispering chiffons, and shimmering satins. The air was perfumed with a hint of lavender, adding to the shop's welcoming ambiance.

A middle-aged woman with a warm smile and keen eyes -- the shopkeeper, I presumed -- stepped forward. Her olive skin and expressive hands spoke volumes of her Italian heritage as she gestured towards the sea of clothes.

As I delved into the wonderland of fashion, the sheer variety was overwhelming. Yet amidst the ocean of garments, one particular piece caught my eye. Hanging from a solitary mannequin was a dress of striking elegance. Its deep emerald color seemed to mirror the green heart of the Roman landscape. The sleek silhouette was defined by a plunging neckline, long flowing skirt, and artful drapery. I could almost feel its soft fabric against my skin, envisioning the way it would drape over my body, accentuating my curves.

With a sense of quiet excitement, I carried it to the fitting room, praying that this exquisite garment would be the one to accompany me to the fashion event. A quick glance at myself in the mirror confirmed my initial intuition -- the dress was perfect, an echo of the Roman elegance around me. It would be my armor for the evening, a symbol of the transformation that Rome was bestowing upon me.

As evening descended upon the Eternal City, Roberto's sleek Ferrari wove its way through the labyrinth of Rome's streets, transporting me to the grandeur of the upcoming fashion event. I peered through the window, my gaze captivated by the dazzling cityscape, a blend of ancient Roman history and modern splendor, all bathed in the bewitching hues of twilight.

We arrived at a grand palazzo, its imposing silhouette outlined against the indigo night sky. The façade was adorned with intricate carvings and lit by the warm glow of strategically placed lights, illuminating it like an ethereal masterpiece. The roar of the Ferrari's engine was swallowed by the sea of luxury vehicles, the air brimming with the gentle murmur of Italian conversations and the soft strains of a string quartet.

Stepping out of the car, I felt like a small-town girl lost in a fairytale, suddenly thrust into the dazzling world of high Italian fashion. I took a deep breath, forcing a confident smile on my face, hoping to disguise the slight tremble in my knees.

Inside, the grandeur amplified. Vaulted ceilings soared high above, decorated with frescoes that seemed to tell tales of Roman gods and mythical creatures. The hall was a vast sea of elegantly dressed men and women, each person appearing more glamorous than the last, their clothes a riot of colors and patterns, textures and styles.

Crystal chandeliers suspended from the ceilings rained light on the crowd, the soft glow reflecting off sequins, jewelry, and champagne glasses. Camera flashes punctuated the scene, capturing the beauty and allure of the moment. Mannequins clad in breathtaking couture were strategically positioned, silent yet striking reminders of the event's purpose.

The buzz of Italian chatter enveloped me, the foreign language forming a melodious backdrop to the evening's spectacle. Waiters glided through the crowd, their trays laden with flutes of bubbling Prosecco and delicate hors d'oeuvres, a delightful pairing to the visual feast unfolding before my eyes.

I was an outsider in this world, a novice amidst the veterans of glamor and luxury. Yet there was a strange exhilaration bubbling within me, a surge of empowerment fueled by the emerald dress hugging my form and the allure of the Roman night. It was as if the very essence of this city, with its grand history and timeless elegance, was slowly seeping into my veins, imbuing me with a newfound confidence.

A sense of calm determination washed over me. I was not just a small-town girl lost amidst the Roman elite. Tonight, I was part of the Italian fashion scene, a participant in this spectacular pageant of style and opulence. With a final glance at my reflection in a grand mirror, I smoothed down my dress, straightened my shoulders, and walked deeper into the hall. I was ready to face the night, to write my own story in this grand narrative of Italian fashion.

As I navigated my way through the sea of fashion moguls and glitterati, a familiar figure emerged from the crowd. It was Roberto, effortlessly commanding the room with his charisma. Dressed in a bespoke Italian suit, he looked every bit the Roman god - alluring and powerful.

His eyes found mine amidst the throng, a slow smile spreading across his handsome face. Without a word, he navigated through the crowd, moving with a predator-like grace, his eyes never leaving mine. Reaching me, he wrapped his arm protectively around my waist, the warmth of his touch offering an immediate sense of security in this overwhelming labyrinth of fashion and glamor.

"Jenna," Roberto's voice resonated in my ear, "it's time to meet the creators of Rome's fashion." His confident presence acted as an anchor in this sea of glamor, his dominant nature both comforting and thrilling in equal measures.