For days he’s planned the menu, visualizing each course, anticipating every taste, dreaming of her response. Now the chef carefully arranges the platter: tangy artichokes, the spice of salami, a complement to her sweet figs, the bite of pecorino, a buttery bel paese. Placing the olives, he fantasizes sucking their salty brine from her fingers.
he breathes her in
as he whispers
antipasto
The linguini, delightfully al dente , nestles in a rich blush sauce, twirls on her fork, rises to her mouth. A wayward strip clings to her chin. He almost gasps as she sucks it through pursed lips.
arms entwined
mouth to her breast
he murmurs primo
Succulent roast lamb, perfumed with rosemary, juices seared inside, rests on his carving board, waiting for his blade to enter its flesh, silky and pink.
savor the feast
eyes fingers tongue hips
invite secondo
Each dip of the spoon an indulgence that cries for more. Tiramisu, creamy with mascarpone, fills her with its sweetness.
their bodies blend
in pulsing rhythm
ignite dolce
This is wonderful, he rather than she is setting up the feast...the conquest is delicious.
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