Out of the Dark by April Emerson

skirt. He has a hungry look on his face. “But I can’t quite remember what it was.” His hand goes higher. He brushes his fingertips against the top of my panties with a pleasing and light touch. “What was it?” He slips his hand between the fabric and my skin, and then he pushes his fingers inside me. “Oh, yes,” he says. “I want this .”
    I moan, and he backs me in to the cold air of the open fridge.
    He’s gentle with my tender lips at first, teasing them. My mouth is open, but he doesn’t kiss me. He just stares at my face, watching as I react to his touch.
    I grab his shoulders to steady myself, but I blink, and then he’s on his knees.
    This is the giving and amorous man I’m a slave to .
    He lifts my skirt and licks me with his ravenous mouth.
    I hear the rain falling, and its perfume is earthy and fragrant as it floats through the open veranda doors.
    I look down at him. His eyes are closed. He is working between my legs in a fury, and anyone could walk in and see me exposed. I should feel nervous, but I’m distracted by the pleasure he’s giving me. I begin to pant and my heart beats faster.
    He rises and lifts me in his arms, grunting as he carries me to the kitchen table, and sets me down. He forces me to lie back, running his hands over my breasts as he does so.
    I knock over the candles that were the centerpiece, and they roll off the table, smacking to the floor.
    He buries his head between my legs again, sliding my thighs onto his shoulders, and licks and sucks at my flesh with ease.
    I feel his tongue and hand inside me working in tandem with his succulent lips to make me come. Little white stars begin to appear in my field of vision as I gaze up at the ceiling. I want to moan, but I bite my lip to keep quiet. I don’t want to draw anyone’s attention to this room, but he’s making me feel so good. I wind my hands into his hair and pull on it in an effort to stifle my impulse to cry out, but this just seems to spur him on further. He slides his tongue everywhere, circling and consuming, and my legs begin to shake. I grip the tablecloth, balling it into my fists.
    A plate, or something else, drops to the floor and shatters.
    The loud sound is all I the incentive I need to give up my attempt at being quiet. “Ah! Stefan. That feels so good.”
    He grips my thighs as he lays one final assault on my slick lips and swollen clit.
    The white stars in my eyes become bursts of color as I moan through my thunderous climax.
    As I start to come down from my high, he stands and looks down at my sweating, half-naked body splayed and spent on his kitchen table. I barely have the strength to move.
    He smiles as he straightens his tie then he walks right out of the room.
    I should get up .
    The tablecloth is destroyed. The fridge is wide open, as are my legs, and I see the broken glass on the floor.
    Get up .
    But I can’t. I’m languishing in the throes of my orgasm, and my smile covers my face. I catch my breath, sit up, and I’m mortified to see Bianca standing in the doorway.
    “Mr. Savano sent me to clean up.” Her voice is hoarse.
    I pull my skirt into place and start to ask how long she’s been there when I notice her red, swollen face. I can only assume it’s from hours of inconsolable crying. She has thick, purple bags beneath her eyes, and her uniform is wrinkled. I don’t know what to say. I walk toward her, prepared to comfort her.
    “They’re both gone now.” She grabs the broom handle. Her face is like stone.
    “What do you mean both ?”
    “Both my loves. Both are gone,” she answers in a dead voice.
    “Oh, Bianca. I’m so sorry. I know Fabrizio was fired. Did Rocco leave, too?”
    She laughs. It’s like a horror movie laugh, unexpected and ominous. “Rocco? I never loved him. And he will never leave me.”
    “Then what do you mean?”
    An expression of clarity comes over her as if she was sleeping and she suddenly woke up, and then her face contorts and she begins to