Part Twenty Two
by sarAdora ~~~~~~~~~~
Francesca was thrilled with the island. Siros was a lovers' paradise, the beach beckoning, the landscape lush, their privacy an opportunity for her to be alone with her new husband and make him crazy with desire.
Desire... She had no idea the physical part of marriage would be so satisfying. She had expected it to be good; Giancarlo had initiated her into aspects of it before their marriage but it was far more than she had anticipated. In the short time they had been here, he had proven to be a masterful lover, bringing her pleasure with loving hands, his mouth making her soar and his body within her... after the initial pain, subsequent unions had been glorious.
She was sore... her flesh swollen from his constant attentions, but she couldn't resist him. Angelina had told her sexual unions would be a sweet and tantalizing part of marriage, but the older woman hadn't told her it would be a sweet time as well. The cuddling that followed the lovemaking had surprised her; she had been certain Giancarlo would simply close his eyes and sleep or rise to shower and move on with the day, but he never did. Always, he held her close, his softly murmured litany of endearments whispered in Italian filling her with contentment.
He had spanked her several times in the ten days they had been there - light stinging spanks that tingled, his other hand under her, teasing heat from her core until she was dripping with desire. And when he was joined to her, his hands remained on her bottom cheeks, cupping her flesh and pressing their bodies together in a fierce embrace.
He couldn't seem to get enough of her... and she knew it.
They slept in each other's arms, shared every meal, took long walks together and still... he kept his hands on her. A palm brushing her hair off her face as they lay in bed talking, his hand squeezing hers as they watched a video, his lips constantly seeking the back of her neck, her brow... When they showered, the soap was in his hands... sliding over her body and when it was her turn to wash him, his hands covered hers... guiding her where he wanted her to touch him.
He had been pleased with her ardor, her willingness to please him and with the foundation for their marriage.
"It's a beautiful day, Giancarlo," Francesca announced with exuberance when they woke. "Let's walk on the beach, swim a little, eat breakfast later."
"After I love you, bambina," he said, the huskiness of his voice murmured against her breasts as he suckled gently.
"Will you love me every morning?" she teased as she stroked his neck.
"Mmm," he agreed. "Probably."
"What about when I have my monthly...?" She stopped in mid-sentence, her husband's mouth had moved south, his hands parting her thighs.
"Your monthly...?" he grinned. Francesca had learned much about lovemaking in the short time they had been married and had been an ardent student in the loving arts, but she continued to blush about the most natural things.
"Your monthly what?" he asked, a hint of a chuckle in his voice.
"I... my monthly... um... don't stop," she sighed as his mouth continued its ministrations.
Raising his head, he looked at his young wife, not at all surprised to see the flush covering her face. "Bambina, mia amore," he murmured as he entered her and brought them to a satisfying union.
Later, he cradled her against his chest and told her not to be embarrassed when her cycle came upon her. "It is a woman's rite, bambina. Did you think I would object? When it happens, it happens. We will still share a bed and more."
"You'll see," he said, smiling enigmatically. "Now, get changed into a bathing suit; we'll walk on the beach. Take a wrap," he added as he pulled her out of bed. "There could be a cool breeze."
The sun was high, the water blue and beckoning as they made their way across the sand. Francesca had dutifully worn a short beach robe, her feet bare and her hand firmly grasped in Giancarlo's hand.
"Shall we swim?" he asked.
"Yes!" she answered with enthusiasm as she pulled away from him, stripped off her robe and raced toward the water. "First one in gets to eat the loser's dessert!"
"Merda! Siete nudo! Shit! You're naked!
"No, I'm not," Francesca laughed as she dived into the water.
"You may as well be," he muttered as he went after her, his eyes on the ivory cheeks of her bared bottom, his palms itching.
Francesca was a strong swimmer; it took him a few minutes to catch her and when he did, his hand cupped her bare bottom and he squeezed... hard.
"Yes, bambina," he replied, the scowl on his face giving her pause. "I am going to spank you and you won't like it."
"But nothing," he glared, turning on his side, an arm around his almost-naked bride. With a strong one-handed stroke and hard kicking, they were soon able to stand in the water. Giancarlo was able to stand; Francesca was unceremoniously tossed over his shoulder, his hand stinging her wet bottom as he walked to shore.
"Your mother," she protested between outraged squeals.
"Mia madre?" he questioned as he dropped a knee to the sand and dropped his near-naked wife over his raised thigh.
"She picked this bathing suit for me... bought it for me," Francesca sputtered as his hand spanked her hard.
"What? Mia madre chose this... this bit of string and scraps? My own mother? Impossible!" he swore and then dropped his hand to her butt for a moment. "My mother?" he said in a softer tone as he gazed at her naked back and very red naked butt.
Turning her, his eyes took in every inch of her... every naked inch of her. Her generous breasts were exposed, only the nipples covered and they were visibly taut under the scrap of cloth that covered them. Her bare torso was bare... very bare... a tiny triangle of cloth covering her mons, the rest of her exposed. "Si, my mother could have done this," he agreed. "But you should have known better than to wear this *nothing* bathing suit in a public place!" he shouted, turning her over and spanking her until her pleading made him stop.
"Every day," he murmured as he cradled her to his chest. "I will spank you every day if you ever wear this bathing suit again."
"I only wore it for you," Francesca sobbed. "No one else is here. I wore this for you. I thought you would like it."
"I love it, bambina," he told her. "But no one else is to see you like this."
"No one is here," she argued, her hand reaching back to rub her stinging bottom.
"Someone could always walk by," he countered. "And *no one* sees what is mine!"
"I'm just another possession, aren't I?" she said sadly. "I thought I might be something more, but I'm not."
"Siete la mia tesoro You are my treasure," he told her, wrapping her robe around her and picking her up, walked back to their island home.
She stood motionless and silent while he cut the strings of her bikini, throwing the remainder in the trash and removing his trunks, pulled her into a warm shower. She leaned against him, saying nothing, feeling put upon, the once sunny day dampened by his reaction to her bathing suit.
"Do you want me to spank you again?" he asked as he tilted her chin so he could see her eyes. "Talk to me, bambina, or I'll think you are going to pout all day."
"You weren't fair," she said softly, her bottom still burning.
"All is fair in love and warm, mia amore," he replied as he put his arms around her.
"You don't love me," she murmured. "Does that mean we're at war?"
"I make the decisions," he answered, ignoring her statement. "And I have decided you need gentle loving."
"Is that your answer to every argument, every disagreement?" she asked as he lifted her, fitting himself to her.
"For now, it is," he husked as desire took over, words faded and sensations ruled.
Later, he would hold her, talk to her, explain... try to be less the Godfather... more the husband... As for loving her... he knew he wanted her in his bed, knew he wanted her out of bed, knew he wanted her. Was that love?