An appointment that ends beyond expectations
An appointment that ends beyond expectations
An appointment that ends beyond expectations: A date that ends beyond expectations: Martina looked at herself in the mirror one last time before leaving. The black dress she had chosen clung to her body like a second skin, emphasizing the curves of her hips and leaving her shoulders bare in a game of discreet but unmistakable seduction. Her brown hair fell in soft waves down her back, and a line of dark red lipstick completed the work. It wasn’t just a date, she knew. When Luca had written her that message – “Dinner at my place, nothing formal. Just bring yourself” – there had been something in his tone, even if it was just digital, that had made her heart race. It was an invitation that promised more than it said, and she had decided to accept it with a mix of curiosity and audacity.
She arrived in front of her apartment a little after eight. The building was modern, with large windows that reflected the lights of the city. Martina took a deep breath, feeling the spring air tingle her skin, and rang the bell. When the door opened, Luca was there, standing, in a slightly unbuttoned white shirt and a pair of dark jeans that fit him perfectly. His eyes, deep and dark like a starless night, looked her over slowly, lingering on the neckline of her dress and then down her bare legs to her heels. “Ciao,” he said, in that low, velvety voice that seemed to slide over her. Martina tilted her head, a faint smile on her lips. “Ciao,” he replied, entering with a decisive step that masked the shiver already running through her body.
The apartment was cozy, with a living room lit by soft lights and an open kitchen where you could glimpse a still-steaming pot. The smell of garlic and fresh tomato hung in the air, mingling with the scent of the red wine that Luca was pouring into two glasses. “I hope you like pasta,” he said, handing her a glass. Their fingers brushed for a moment, and Martina felt a slight jolt, as if that contact had lit an invisible fuse. “I trust your taste,” he replied, bringing the glass to his lips and sipping slowly, without ever taking his eyes off hers.
Dinner was a slow crescendo of tension. Sitting at the dark wooden table, they talked about everything and nothing—work, a movie they’d recently seen, a trip they’d both wanted to take—but the words were just a pretext. Every now and then, their hands would touch as they passed the bread basket or filled their glasses, and each contact was like a wave rippling the surface of a lake that was too calm. Martina noticed how Luca looked at her: it wasn’t just interest, it was a desire that burned slowly, visible in the way his eyes lingered on her lips every time she spoke, or in the way his hand would stop a moment too close to hers. And her? She was provoking him, deliberately. She would cross her legs under the table, letting her dress ride up slightly, and smile with that mix of innocence and mischief that could drive him crazy.
After the pasta came dessert: a dark chocolate mousse, thick and sinful, which Luca had served in a single bowl with a single spoon. “I don’t feel like dirtying any more plates,” he said with a half smile, but they both knew it was an excuse. They sat closer together on the couch and began sharing the dessert. Martina took a spoonful and brought it to her mouth, closing her eyes for a moment as the rich flavor melted on her tongue. “Good?” he asked, and she nodded, offering him the spoon with a slow, almost sensual gesture. Luca took it, brushing her fingers, and ate, looking straight into her eyes. This game of provocation was becoming unbearable, and they both knew it.
When the bowl was empty, Luca set the spoon down on the coffee table with a decisive gesture and stood up, holding out his hand. “Come with me,” he said, and his tone was different now: no longer light, but full of a dark promise. Martina followed him without hesitation, her heart pounding in her chest, her heels clicking on the parquet as they crossed the living room. They stopped near the sofa, and for a moment they remained there, a few inches from each other, the silence broken only by their breathing.
Then, everything exploded. Luca grabbed her face with both hands and kissed her, a fierce, deep kiss that tasted of wine and desire repressed for too long. Martina returned it with the same urgency, her lips moving against his, her tongue seeking his in a desperate duel. His hands slid down her back, under her dress, finding her naked, hot skin. “God, you’re so beautiful,” he murmured against her neck, his teeth nibbling her collarbone, his hot breath making her shiver. Martina threaded her fingers through his dark hair, pulling him closer, her body arching toward him as if she wanted to melt into his flesh.
There was no time for words. Luca lifted her dress in one swift movement, exposing her hips, and Martina undid his belt with hands that trembled with impatience. She felt him hold his breath when she touched his skin, and the sound made her smile, a smile of triumph. He pushed her gently onto the sofa, and the cool fabric against her bare back drew a soft moan from her. Luca knelt between her legs, his eyes fixed on hers, and when his hands brushed the inside of her thighs, Martina felt the heat rise inside her, a wave that threatened to overwhelm her.
His mouth found the sensitive skin just above the edge of her panties, and Martina held her breath, fingers gripping the pillows. He lowered her underwear with exasperating slowness, savoring every moment, and when his tongue finally touched her, she arched her back, a hoarse moan escaping her before she could hold it back. Luca was relentless, every movement of his mouth a delicious agony, a crescendo of pleasure that brought her ever closer to the edge. “Luca…” she whispered, her voice breaking, and he looked up, a glint of satisfaction in his eyes before returning to devote himself to her with even more intensity.
Martina was lost in that vortex, the world reduced to sensations: the heat of his tongue, the pressure of his hands holding her hips, the sound of her own moans filling the room. When he finally stood up, his face flushed and his eyes burning with desire, she pulled him to her, desperate. “I want you,” she murmured, and those words were all it took. Luca freed himself of his jeans and shirt in a few frantic movements, and when he was back on top of her, Martina felt his erection pressing against her, hard and hot.
He entered her with a slow but firm movement, filling her completely, and the moan that escaped them both was almost a scream. Each thrust was an explosion of pleasure, their bodies moving in a perfect rhythm, wild, primal. Luca grabbed her wrists, pinning them above his head with one hand, while with the other he caressed her breasts, pinching her nipples until she moaned louder. “Tell me what you like,” he ordered, his voice hoarse, and Martina nodded, unable to speak, her body shaking with uncontrollable shivers.
He sped up, each thrust deeper, more intense, and Martina felt herself falling. Her orgasm hit her like a storm, a wave that washed over her, making her scream his name, her legs shaking around him. Luca followed shortly after, his body tensing as a deep moan escaped his throat, the heat of her pleasure mixing with his.
They lay there, entwined on the couch, sweaty and panting, for what seemed like an eternity. Martina could still feel his heartbeat against her chest, and when they finally looked at each other, she laughed softly, still dazed. “It wasn’t just dinner, was it?” she asked, her voice veiled with malice. Luca caressed her face, a satisfied smile on his lips. “No,” he replied, brushing her lips with a light kiss. “It was much more. And it’s not over yet.”
His words made her heart beat faster, because they both knew that tonight was just the beginning.
