2

Scanning the patio and pool for the source of the moans, my first thought is that it could be Tatiana, but that’s not possible—she’s completely out of it. These aren’t distressed sounds; they’re filled with intense passion.

My gaze is drawn to one of the lounge chairs by the pool. The underwater lights cast a faint glow, revealing a sight I missed earlier.

About twenty feet away, Gianni is engaged with a woman I don’t recognize. He’s kneeling at the foot of the chair, and she’s sprawled out before him. My face flushes with embarrassment, and though I know I should look away, I can’t. I watch as he moves his face toward her, his intentions unmistakable.

I press a hand to my mouth, trying to stifle a gasp. Gianni’s hands grip her thighs firmly as he performs oral sex. A forbidden desire begins to stir within me. Gianni, always the epitome of sexiness, has been the subject of countless fantasies, but I’ve never seen him in such a raw, intimate moment. His usual persona—professional, commanding, and intense—now takes on a new dimension.

Jealousy and desire mix inside me as I observe him. The woman’s moans fill the air, and I can only imagine the sensation of his tongue against her. The scene is almost too much to bear.

“Oh god! Gianni. Yes! More!” she cries out, her pleasure clear in her voice.

Gianni’s experience and patience are evident. He’s a man who could undoubtedly bring intense pleasure. The sight of his strong, tattooed torso and dripping swim trunks adds to my growing heat.

My cheeks burn with shame, and I know I should leave. It’s wrong to watch, and they have no idea I’m here. But my feet won’t move. The fantasy of being noticed, of being in her place, consumes me. I watch as Gianni’s hands slide over her, his touch eliciting more cries of pleasure from her.

“Fuck. It feels so good,” she moans, her body trembling with ecstasy.

My heart races. I need to escape before I’m seen. They’re preoccupied now, but if they catch me, the embarrassment would be unbearable.

Move, now.

And yet, my feet remain frozen. My eyes are locked on Gianni, unable to look away. My nipples press painfully against the fabric of my nightshirt, and an intense, consuming arousal grips me, even though no one has touched me.

The woman continues to moan as Gianni skillfully pleasures her. Her legs are draped over his shoulders, and his actions are causing her to cry out with pleasure.

“Gianni… yes. Yes! Yes!” she breathes heavily.

I try to rationalize this as no different from watching explicit content online. I’m not doing anything wrong, right? He’s just my best friend’s father.

He pulls back from her breasts and slides a hand between her legs, exposing her completely. My breath quickens, and a wave of desire floods me. I’m astonished I haven’t made a mess on the seat.

Luciano has never touched me like this. Gianni’s intensity and the way he’s pleasuring her make me ache with longing. He inserts two fingers into her, stretching her, and I can almost feel those same fingers inside me. I watch his face, focused and intense, as he continues.

The urge to touch myself grows overwhelming, and when he leans back down, I have to bite my lip to hold back a moan.

I’m drenched in need, helpless against my desire for someone completely unattainable.

I shift uncomfortably, my thighs rubbing together, amplifying the ache. The only remedy seems to be giving in, but I can’t. It feels so wrong.

The patio lights catch on Gianni’s dark hair and bare skin. He’s usually so stoic and unyielding, but now his focus on the woman makes his intensity even more striking.

How many times have I dreamed of this?

Except, I was the woman he was fucking, taming, taking pleasure from. I wonder if the rumors are true? That he fucks as dirty as he fights.

It should be me.

My body he’s touching, licking, kissing.

My clit he licks while his thick, strong fingers ruins my pussy. I wish I could see his cock, but he’s still clothed from the waist down. In my fantasies, I’ve imagined his cock to be immense, his girth thick, thanks to the tempting outline in his suit pants.

I can’t count how many times I’ve caught myself staring at him. All I could think was… would he break me as he pushed inside? His massive cock becoming too much for my little pussy to handle. I shudder, the pressure in my core too intense to be ignored. The sight of his body, the moans of the woman he’s feasting on. It’s wreaking havoc on my fragile libido.

Oh god. I know I shouldn't be doing this. It's wrong, undeniably wrong. But I never claimed to be a saint, did I? The ache of desire is nearly unbearable, and I need to find relief. Even though it’s wrong, the need is consuming. Slipping a hand under my nightshirt, I mimic Gianni’s actions with the blonde, rolling my nipple between my fingers. The pleasure that follows is intense, filling me with an urgent craving. I imagine my fingers are his, the rough texture against my sensitive skin.

As I focus on Gianni’s other hand, moving rhythmically, the forbidden nature of it heightens my arousal. My instincts scream for me to flee, but I can’t bring myself to move.

Spreading my legs further, I prop one foot on the stool and slide my other hand beneath my thong. I part my lips, letting my tongue graze over them, and guide my fingers through my own wetness, imagining they are his.

This is so wrong. It feels filthy. What is happening to me?

I’ve struggled with my feelings for years, knowing this could jeopardize my friendship with Tatiana. But right now, I can’t stop. I don’t want to, especially when pretending I’m the one Gianni is pleasuring brings me such intense satisfaction. If I can experience this while watching the man I’ve fantasized about, I will.

“Don’t stop!” the woman gasps, nearing her climax. “Oh god, yes… just like that! I’m about to come! Please, don’t stop!”

As she cries out, her body convulses in the throes of an overwhelming orgasm. I watch in envy, having never experienced such intensity myself.

It’s all because of him—Gianni. If only he noticed me, if only he could make me feel the way he’s making that woman feel. My body tenses, my clit throbbing, my heartbeat pounding in my ears. I’m so close. I can feel the heat and wetness slipping down my thighs. My body is begging for something I can’t have. I press harder, faster, needing the friction just right. This is wrong, so wrong, but the pleasure is overwhelming.

My body is on the edge, every muscle wound tight. I can’t stop—oh god, I’m about to come, and it feels so incredible. My eyes flutter shut, goosebumps spreading across my skin as my hips lift, craving something more. And then, with a gasp, I shatter, a wave of euphoria washing over me. I wish so desperately that it was Gianni’s touch filling me.

A single name escapes my lips, barely a whisper. “Gianni…”

He shouldn’t be able to hear me. There’s no way he could. I’m hidden in the darkness. But as I slowly open my eyes, I see his head snap up. My heart races even faster, the remnants of my orgasm still coursing through me. In the dim light, our gazes seem to lock, though he can only see the sliding glass door.

The floor feels like it’s giving way beneath me as his lips curl into a knowing smirk. He must see something—something I didn’t think was possible. We’re locked in this moment, a moment I’ve yearned for, but never thought would happen.

My legs are weak, my chest heaving, and my fingers slick with the evidence of what I’ve done. I should be filled with shame, but instead, I’m overwhelmed by the thrill of his gaze on me.

He can’t see me. He mustn’t.

But the smirk on his face suggests otherwise. And I can’t shake the feeling that he’s aware of exactly what’s happening.