Gabriel’s Inferno Trilogy by Sylvain Reynard Page 0,223

by the way his words tripped off his tongue.

He owned her, body and soul.

***

While Julia was pulling lingerie from the store racks to add to her ever expanding pile of items to try on, her iPhone chirped. She quickly checked it and found a text:

What are you looking at? —G

She giggled slightly and typed a short response:

Very tiny things. —Julia

Gabriel replied immediately:

How tiny? —G

P.S. Send pictures

Julia rolled her eyes as she hit reply:

Too tiny. No pictures—

they’d ruin the surprise.

Love, Julia

It took a little longer for Gabriel’s next text to arrive:

Darling,

No picture could ruin

the experience of seeing you

in all your glory

for the first time…

You’re that beautiful. Love, G

Julia’s fingers couldn’t type fast enough:

Thank you, Gabriel.

I love you

Gabriel’s final text message reached her just as she entered the dressing room:

I love you too, sweetheart.

Have fun…Hurry home to me. —G

The next two days were a whirlwind as Gabriel finished his administrative duties for the university, ensuring that all his grades were submitted. The semester was finally over.

Julia made a special trip to a spa for some pre-Italy pampering. In keeping with her low pain tolerance and overall Mediterranean sensibility, she politely declined the aesthetician’s invitation to embrace all things Brazilian.

Gabriel had kept most of their travel plans a secret, wishing to surprise her. So it was with amazement that their arrival in Florence on a warmer than usual December day resulted in the happy couple walking into the Gallery Hotel Art. The hotel was upscale, modern, and located very close to the Ponte Vecchio, Julia’s favorite bridge, and a few minutes from the Ponte Santa Trinita, which was featured in Holiday’s painting of Dante and Beatrice.

The concierge, Paolo, greeted them immediately. Although Gabriel had not stayed in his hotel before, Paolo had been instructed by Dottore Massimo Vitali, the Executive Director of the Uffizi Gallery, to extend every courtesy to Professor Emerson and his fidanzata. In fact, Paolo himself accompanied the bellhop and the lovers to their seventh-floor suite, which was called the Palazzo Vecchio Penthouse.

Julia gasped as the men parted like the Red Sea before her so that she could enter first. It was, perhaps, the loveliest room she’d ever seen. The floor was a dark hardwood offset with light-colored walls. The sitting room was graced with elegantly modern furniture and a sliding glass wall that partitioned it from the bedroom.

The bedroom itself was spacious and featured a large bed that was piled high with crisp, white linens. Mere steps away was a glass door that opened out onto the rooftop terrazza, which allowed bright sunlight to spill over the bed, illuminating it. One of the bathrooms boasted a huge pedestal bathtub, not unlike the tub Julia had enjoyed in their hotel in Philadelphia, while the other bathroom had a shower and two matching vanities. Gabriel took one look at the bathtub and decided that he needed to share it with Julianne that very evening.

But the crowning glory of the space was the terrazza itself, which offered breathtaking views of the Duomo, the Palazzo, and the surrounding hills. Julia envisioned curling up with Gabriel on the comfortable futon bed, which dominated the terrace, with a glass of Chianti, looking up at the stars. Or perhaps (she blushed), making love with him by candlelight underneath those same stars.

Orgasms with Gabriel by starlight…

Once they were alone, Julia hugged him tightly and thanked him over and over again for choosing such a beautiful room.

“It’s all for you, my love.” He kissed her softly. “All for you.”

Truthfully, he would have liked nothing better than to spread Julianne out on the bed and make love to her immediately, but she hadn’t slept well on the airplane, and he knew that she was tired. She yawned twice in a row and giggled when he tried to kiss her.

“I should clean up and pay a visit to the Uffizi. Would it be all right if I left you on your own? You can take a nap, if you like, or I could ask the concierge to book a massage for you in the spa.”

Julia’s eyes lit up at the latter offering, but she knew she was too sleepy to enjoy it. “A nap sounds good. I know it isn’t the best strategy for overcoming jet lag, but I will be much better company over dinner and, um, later on, if I have a little more sleep.” She blushed.

Gabriel traced a single finger around her jaw line. “I’ll only say this once, Julianne. There is no rush. We can take