1 A Night in Rome

The last time I've seen her so happy was ten years ago, right in this restaurant, laughing with her eyes closed. But last time, I was the one sitting with her at the table, making her laugh and not the other man.

one time in rome erotic story

I clenched my rocks glass harder the longer I've glared at them from the end of a very long table I sat at. Suddenly, the voices of my family chatting were far away, and the food was ash on my tongue.

Did she choose this spot for a reason? She must have because there was no way she would forget the annual family dinner I hosted in my favorite restaurant in Rome.

Which meant she made all this way from Chicago to be here, this night when she knew I would be here too.

Finally, she turned her head to the side, and our eyes locked. There was no surprise in those stark blue eyes as her lids hooded. She brought a glass of champaign to her lips, still keeping my gaze.

Excusing myself from the table, I walked over to the long bar all the way on the other side of the restaurant, emptying my glass on the way.

"Lagavulin. Double, please," I asked the bartender, leaning against the bar, my back to the tables.

I didn't hear her approach. I felt her. The hair on the back of my neck rose at her presence.

Quietly, she slipped on the barstool next to me, placing her black purse on the bar top. I still refused to glance her way or say anything.

"How long has it been?" Her voice was still low and soft as if it hadn't changed at all throughout all those years.

"Too long," I answered, finally turning to face her.

She looked as beautiful as ever, even though I could already see the tiny marks of time on her face. It suited her, and I wanted my hands all over her, exploring her skin to see what else had changed since I had her.

Suddenly, my pants were too tight as my cock swelled.

"Missed me?" she asked, her eyes roaming my face as if she was also trying to see what changed.

"I didn't."

She smiled. "Well, I missed you. A lot."

I fisted my palms. The things her eyes and words were doing to me were beyond her understanding. It seemed she still had all the power over me.

Without a word, she stood and walked alongside the bar, her "fuck me" heels clicking on the clay floors, hips swaying.

As she rounded the bar, she threw a glance over her shoulder, winking, and cocked her head, indicating for me to follow her.

I didn't need to be told twice.

Glancing at my family's table, where everyone chatted and enjoyed the food without missing me, it seemed, I followed her around the bar, into the dimly lit corridor leading to the bathrooms and the staff room.

She leaned on the door of one of the bathrooms, one leg bent a little. Her black cocktail dress fit her figure perfectly, accentuating plump ass and thighs, her waist, and the most beautiful breasts that barely fit my palms.

I walked to her, and she opened the door, entering it backward, keeping her gaze locked with mine. The door slammed shut behind my back, and I twisted the key, locking it.