Walking back to her Air BNB, Iggy hears the grumble of thunder overhead and decides to quicken her pace. In mere moments, the sky opens up, and the rain comes down in sheets. There is a second of shock as the spray of cold pelts their bodies, but then Iggy takes Donovan's hand, and they run laughing and splashing like children all the way back to her house.
They strip. Iggy sheds her damp Dolci linen sundress, while Donovan loses his wet tee-shirts and soaked through jeans. He runs a hand through his hair, then flicks away the dampness as he peers out of the kitchen window. While he is mesmerized by the downpour, she pours herself a glass of Red Hill.
"Did you know it was going to rain today?" He calls over his shoulder. Iggy shakes her head before taking a sip from her bourbon. The rain is the last thing on her mind right now. Instead, she eyes the contour of Donovan's bare shoulders, still wet and glistening with droplets.
He turns to her, and they stare at each other for a moment. Iggy knows that he yearns to explore her body, and maybe more. It's just a shame it took them this long to arrive here. For the past week, she's feigned interest in teaching him Italian, and he's picked up some things here and there, but all she's really done is watch his mouth and wonder what it can do for her.
Tomorrow, she flies back home, and though her trip has been lovely, she wants some story to tell when she gets back. What better yarn to spin than the conquest of an American? This isn't her first fling, but it is the first one outside of her country. But whether it be Sicilian men or not, Iggy knows the look in his eyes. The eagerness, the hunger. She's happy to discover it's not just native to her borders.
Iggy's eyes are unflinching as she watches him over the rim of her glass. Donovan's eyes soften before trailing down her midriff. Then, he catches sight of the small tuft of dark hair that rose up past the waistband of her panties.
"Mio Dios," he says, clearly taken by what he sees. His Italian sounds clunky, even in that deep soothing voice of his. But she's not about to correct him. No, Iggy leans back on the kitchen counter and welcomes his gaze.
Donovan saddles up to her and traces her small patch of hair with his finger. He looks as if he's trying to memorize it. "This is new."
"New to you?"
He nods. "Most women go for the-" He struggles for a moment, unable to find the right words in Italian. Then, in a snap, it comes to him. "Senza peli." Iggy nods. "Yeah, they think it makes them look younger or some bullshit. But you..." He trails off, letting a flirty little smile come over him before adding, "You seem to enjoy it."
Iggy can't help but smirk into her glass as Donovan reaches down past the elastic band of her panties and curls a finger around a thick bramble of her hair. "Most of the women I've been with shaved their legs, their pits, and their pussies almost militantly."
"What's wrong with a little hair?" She asks, peering down and watching Donovan's hand rummage around. His fingers are clumsy but in a cute, endearing way. Regardless, she's getting worked up just watching him appreciate her body.
"This," he says, twisting some of the hair between his fingers. "Is more than just a little bit." His finger drifts further down, and suddenly he's there, between the folds of her pussy. The breath catches in Iggy's chest as she feels him rub the knob of her clit, and dampen his fingertips with her brine. "It's a small foresta down here."
A moment later, he is down on his knees. He begins by kissing a tender trail from Iggy's navel, and slowly, he ventures down over the crotch of her panties. His mouth works through the fabric, kneading and licking until Iggy nearly spills her drink.
