Why don't you get a taste?
Golden girl Alison Rivers has it all: brains, looks, money, a father who adores her, and any man she wants... Or so she thought.
When she sets her eyes on Lorenzo Visconti, her academy's Italian, irresistible principal, sh...
So I decided that this is Alison's mansion, but instead of the white marble imagine all black Portoro marble flooring (floor & stairs).
Also, two updates in a week!
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"Do you want me to carry you?"
I shook my head and gave my dad a grateful smile. "No, thank you. I can walk just fine. But I think that it's gonna leave a nasty bruise."
"You and your stupid races, I hope that you learned your lesson now." He commented through gritted teeth, mad at me for hurting myself.
I shrugged and grabbed a few shopping bags to help him out, because there were too many to fit in only two hands.
We slowly ascended the stairs that led from the garage to the foyer, with the click-clacking of my heeled boots accompanying each step, making our presence known.
And soon enough Victoria emerged from the right hall, the one where the living room is, and quickly scanned us with an annoyed look. "Well, took you long enough to come home."
I didn't even want to spend another second around her, mainly because I knew that she was going to complain about how we were out for the entire day, so I said a quick goodnight and kissed my dad on his cheek, before walking upstairs and into my bedroom.
My boots were immediately taken off and I slid my feet into my warm slippers, then I began undressing in front of my full-length mirror, just so that I could observe my injured hipbone.
Sure enough, a wide purple spot covered the entire area, clashing with my otherwise flawless skin. I gently laid my fingers onto my hipbone, hissing in pain at the faintest touch. "Bloody hell."
I picked up my clothes and threw them in the laundry basket, then stepped into the bathroom to wash my hands.
My mind wandered to the one and only Mr. Visconti, reminiscing that exquisite dream that I hoped to continue, preferably in real life.
My next destination was the tub. After such a long day and a skating accident, I figured I deserved a nice, hot bath. I let the water run and added some bath salts and bubbles. As I waited for the tub to fill, I removed my makeup, brushed my teeth and applied a hydrating mask. Self-care.
I finally stepped into the wide tub and let the almost scalding water envelop my body, soothing every single tense muscle and all of my nerves. I fell into a state of pure relaxation, so much that I found myself unwittingly caressing my body with the image of Mr. Visconti's hands behind my closed lids.
I wonder what he would do if he saw me like this. I bet he would forget all about his wife. He would only care about touching me and getting off.
With those thoughts in mind, one hand trailed down my stomach and stopped between my legs.
I need to kiss him, I want to feel his lips against mine. Oh, but his tongue... I need it to replace my hand. I know he's amazing in bed, I just know it. I can just feel his hands holding my hips as I ride him, the coldness of his wedding band tightly pressed against my hot skin. We'd be so damn great together, I bet I can fucking drain him. Hell, I'd even let him knock me up.
