"That's not in my control," answered Romano truthfully.
"Well, assuming I am... can we... just one last time... could we possibly...I just need to disconnect from my thoughts."
Romano was willing to do quite a lot for Ingrid. And, after all, they were hidden from view. His heart was heavy with disappointment, regret, sorrow. Enough that fucking her was likely to be a challenge. But. he could give all and take little. It was the least he could do for Ingrid, who had given him so much over the years.
As she lay back on the grassy knoll, at the back of the dune behind the jetty, the long grass shifting in the breeze, he delved under her sundress and pushed it up to her hips. He placed his large hands on her inner thighs and pushed up and out, opening her to his mouth. She sighed and laid on hand on his head as he kissed his way up the soft insides of her legs. Trailing a wet tongue upward, he dug a finger under her panties and pulled them to the side so that, when he arrived at his destination, she was exposed to his mouth.
Kneeling in the sandy grass, he took broad, flat swipes with his tongue. Ingrid's hand in his hair tightened. She grabbed at her breast with the other hand and let out a sigh that escalated into a moan as he sharpened his tongue to a point and teased at her clit. As he moved over the hard, hot little knot, spelling out his sorrows, she began to jerk and flex her legs. Soon he would have to hold her down.
He placed a hand at the top of her pelvis and, without withdrawing his tongue, he slowly pushed one, then two fingers in her soaking pussy, pushing in and up to find his hand on the outside. And now he had to use his biceps, his elbows out at wing-like angles, to hold her legs down, for fear she'd break his nose with her thrusting and thrashing. He slowly picked up the pace of his fingers, pushing in and up. Building her up, just so he could break her down.
The only words she spoke, for the 40 minutes he spent there, between her legs, were, "please Giacco, please." 'Please' became her mantra, her whole world, as he made her cum. Once, twice, a third time. Till she couldn't take any more. Until he'd drained her sorrow, her fear, her regret. Until she was empty of feeling and thought. Until she was ready for what came next.
Romano sat waiting for the plane to take off. He'd handed off the case to Carlo to walk the prosecutor through. Ingrid was cooperative, remorseful even. If it had just been Bonsignore she might have gotten off lightly, with the circumstances. But a double homicide. He didn't think much of her chances.
He'd noticed as he left that Catterina was eyeing Carlo speculatively. The kind of dangerous look, he had come to fear. Maybe having them play act a married couple had changed the station dynamics for the better.
He imagined the sun through the plane window bleaching away his thoughts of Ingrid. But if he was wholly focused on his end destination, waiting for him by the tarmac in Liguria, why did he feel the urge to sob? Maybe, tonight, the whale would let him know.
THE END
