Fire On My Skin E-Book

Alessia Cuce'

• Herausgeber: Alessia Cuce'
• Kategorie: Erotik
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2017

Beschreibung

Fire On My Skin

Leseprobe

Fire on my Skin

Alessia Cuce'

––––––––

Translated by Gwen Simmons 

“Fire on my Skin”

Written By Alessia Cuce'

Copyright © 2017 Alessia Cuce'

All rights reserved

Distributed by Babelcube, Inc.

www.babelcube.com

Translated by Gwen Simmons

Cover Design © 2017 Sara Adanay

“Babelcube Books” and “Babelcube” are trademarks of Babelcube Inc.

This book is a work of fiction. Characters and places have been invented by the author. Any similarity with events, places and people, alive or not, is coincidental.

Copyright © 2016 AlessiaCucè

Tutti i diritti riservati

Cover by Sara Adanay – Digital Art

©Sara Adanay – Digital Art

Blog: http://adanayart.blogspot.it/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Sara-Adanay/548891361908348

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright Page

Copyright Page

Fire on my Skin

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter eight

Epilogue

I have to thank many people for their help and their support.

My readers, who get excited and give me trust.

All the bloggers hosting my books and keeping a small space for me.

And all those who believe in my work, be them near, far or virtual.

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Thank you all, from the bottom of my heart.

Hold my hand at sunset,

when the light of day goes out

and darkness slips on his cloth of stars.

Hold it tight, when I cannot live

in this imperfect world.

Hold my hand,

take me where time does not exist.

Hold it tight in hard living.

Hold my hand,

in the days when I feel disoriented,

sing me the song of the stars, sweet singsong voices breathe.

Hold my hand, and hold it tight,

before the insolent fate can take me away from you.

Hold my hand and

do not let go, ever.

(Herman Hesse)

Chapter One

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"Sex is the insignificant part of a story."

I had always said that to myself and to Fabiana, my roommate and good friend. Maybe because I had never felt a strong pleasure in a relationship. My fantasy, although I was a painter who ran an art gallery, had never gone further than that. To me, there was always something deeper than physical contact, something spiritual, capable of holding two people together.

"A man must make me swoon with other qualities!" I kept repeating.

"It doesn’t work that way, Elèna. Sex is a great part of a relationship. If there is no chemistry between the sheets, the relationship won’t have a future. Listen to me, someone who has tried both scenarios."

"Yes, and here you are, as single as I am!" I would reply sarcastically.

"I'm single because between me and Luke there was great sexual chemistry but nothing else. There is no doubt that he was a wizard in bed, but outside of it he was a complete idiot!"

"I don’t agree. My sex life has always been devoid of transport. I don’t remember ever experiencing something exceptional and unique! And anyway, Valerio made me feel other things!"

"Valerio dumped you over the phone, saying that you could not arouse in him the emotions he wanted. And from what I could tell, he didn’t arouse anything in you!"

Her words hurt me but I had to admit to myself that perhaps she was right. "That’s enough, Fabiana. Why do you persist in believing that physical contact is so essential? It's been a long time since the last time I had sex and I don’t feel the need for it at all."

And it was true. I didn’t feel the desire to get together with another man. Or maybe I was not ready to leave Valerio behind me. His memory still invaded my heart.

"I guess why! You never really had sex. You were with Valerio for ten years; you have no idea what someone able to make you lose your wits can make you feel."

Ten long years, nine of engagement and less than one of marriage. Years during which we hadn’t shared anything. Nevertheless, when Fabiana went back on the same subject over and over again, I hated her. "Fabiana, how could you know how I felt when I made love to Valerio? Because that's what I did. Have you forgotten I loved him? And I do, unfortunately," I snapped, hysterical.

"Because I read it in your eyes."

"Have you become a psychic now? Come on, stop for heaven's sake. I liked making love to him, that's all. But you know that for me it has never been so important. I can do without."

"You're more stubborn than a mule! He was your one and only lover, and neither of you had any experience, even if this is not the root of the problem. You two were... dead. There are feelings that you've never even imagined, parts of your body that, I imagine, you don’t even know how much pleasure they can give you. The soul can’t make you reach an intense orgasm. You should start trying to have some fun !"

Our conversations always began and ended with the same topic. She claimed that my mind would take advantage from physical pleasure, and that there was nothing wrong with wanting to satisfy physical needs. Needs that I did not feel. Then she went on saying I had dark circles under my eyes, pale skin and dead eyes. From how she described me, it sounded as if I was transforming into a zombie! It was likely. After all, my husband’s – or should I say, my ex’s – departure was still wearing me out.

It had been twelve months since he had dumped me miserably, like a thrown suitcase on an airport’s conveyor belt. I spent my days in total apathy, concentrating entirely on what I loved to do most in the world: paint. But my canvases were becoming repetitive, persisting as I was in painting the same stormy sea in shades of black and gray.

"Sex, my dear, you need sex! Good, healthy, old sex! You must revive your collection," Fabiana mocked every time a painting came to life from my brushes.

"I get it! It’s not necessary you repeat the word ‘sex’ ten times in every sentence that leaves your mouth."

"They're beautiful, mind you. But I’m tired of those colors. You have an exhibition coming up and you cannot sell the same things. You have to give buyers an alternative."

She was right. I needed to take a break, because my paintings hanging in the gallery had become monotonous even to me, despite the custome [...]