Tim & Angie - Bonus Content

Photo by Flo P on Unsplash

TIMOTHY
Angie has been glued to the window since we climbed into the car, leaving Florence. Paris was incredible. I know the honeymoon has to end at some point, but the month we spent in our fifth-floor walkup near Notre Dame was magical. Angie was right. Waking up to the bells every day was a gift.
      Florence was a whirl of museums and art galleries, but now we’re headed to the main event. A month in a small villa, complete with its own vineyard. I’ve already arranged for an in-depth tour tomorrow with the owner. I want to turn my hand to wine-making. I realize that being here in March isn’t the best for that – September and October are the harvest months, but maybe I can learn the blending process.
        The car turns off the road through a set of wrought-iron gates, and I mirror Angie’s pose, almost pressing my nose against the window as we drive through the rows of vines up to the villa.
        “Oh, Tim, it’s gorgeous!” Angie sighs, climbing out of the car, her eyes glued on the Tuscan villa towering over us with its distinct red stone walls and red-tiled roofs.
        “Yeah, it is,” I agree, my eyes glued to the vines spread out before us, surrounding the villa on all sides.
       “Did you want to look inside or stay out here?”
        I turn at Angie’s giggle, rolling my eyes as I round the car, dropping an arm around her shoulders.
        “All right. We’ll have a tour inside and then lunch on the terrace.”
        “Overlooking the vineyards,” Angie agrees, still laughing at me. Oh, she’s going to pay for that.
       Angie turns with a smile, and I follow her up the stairs to the huge wooden front door, which is propped open, the owner standing just inside, shaded from the Tuscan sun, already making its presence felt in March.
      “Welcome, welcome!” he cries, opening his arms and kissing both of Angie’s cheeks and mine. “Come in, come in!”
      We follow him through the well-kept villa. The interior is faithful to its setting, with landscape paintings dotted around the wall, all of the local area. The furniture is from another time, and if the look on Angie’s face is anything to go by, she is as in love with the place as I am.
        We follow Piero through the historic rooms, finally reaching our bedroom at the top of the villa on the third floor. It, and a bathroom, are the only things on this level, and the windowed doors open onto a small balcony that overlooks the vineyards. This is going to be as nice to wake up to as the Notre Dame bells.
        Our bags were brought up ahead of us, sitting at the end of the bed, but Angie steps past them to open the doors and stand on the balcony, looking out with a soft expression. I wave Piero off, watching Angie with a smile. The bedroom door closes, leaving us alone. Angie turns, her eyes landing on me as they crease into a grin.
        “What?”
       I saunter over to her, tugging her into my arms. “I’m just thinking that I’m the luckiest man in the world to be here with you.”
        “You’re certainly a sweet talker.”
      Spinning Angie around, I walk her back into the room, my eyes landing on the wrought iron bedhead.
          “It’s no four-poster, but it will do.”
          Angie cranes her head to look at the bed as well. “It will do for what?”
         She cuts off with a squeal as I swing her into my arms, coming down on top of her on the bed, my lips finding her neck.
         “It will do to fuck you on.”
         “That’s less sweet.”
         “I was going for dirty.”
         Angie giggles, her fingers finding the buttons of my shirt, plucking at them. “I like dirty Tim.”
         “He likes you.”
        Her giggles turn to moans as I open her linen shirt, tugging down her bra cup to latch my lips around her nipple, and suckle. Angie’s fingers slide into my hair, holding my head against her chest as I work her trousers off, tugging off her panties as well.
          “Tim,” she gasps as two of my fingers enter her, pumping slowly. She’s ready for me. More than ready for me. Lifting my head, I smile down at her as I free my cock, positioning myself and sliding home. Angie’s legs come up to hug my hips, her hands finding my biceps, gripping as her head tips back, another moan escaping her lips.
          God, she’s so fucking beautiful. I am the luckiest man alive. This honeymoon is everything I’ve ever dreamed of. Angie has relaxed the whole time. She has taken to vacationing like a duck to water. I’m going to ensure she doesn’t have another bad one in her life. Not if I have anything to say about it.
          Taking my weight on my forearms, my face nuzzles the side of Angie’s as I thrust firmly. “You are the best thing that ever happened to me, babe.”
          “What happened to dirty?”
          “I’ve gone back to sweet.”
          “I’ll take it,” Angie sighs, bucking her hips as she chases her release. “I’ll take it all.”
          And I’m happy to give it all. Angie is a dream come true. Thank God Uncle Bill insisted she come to the UK for Christmas. Imagine if I’d never noticed her. That would have been a travesty. I definitely need to get Uncle Bill a gift. Angie will know the perfect thing. I’ll ask her later. Right now, I’m planning on making her come twice, and then explore the villa with her.

ANGELA
Tim waves as he strides off with Piero, dressed in jeans and a sweater, a broad-brimmed hat slapped on his head. He was practically bouncing off the walls this morning. He’s so excited about this vineyard tour. It’s cute. It’s even better that I don’t have to accompany him. I have other plans. Secret plans.
           As they move through the vines, the car I called pulls up.
           “Mrs. Brooks Westerhaven?”
         It’s been over a month, and I’m still not used to hearing myself called that. I slide into the car, waiting as the driver firmly closes the door, rounding the car and climbing in.
            “Into town?”
            “Yes, please. To the marketplace.”
         I wave to Tim as we pass them, and he raises a hand in reply, turning back to Piero, who is pointing to one of the vines. I settle back into the buttery leather seat, watching the trees and vineyards whip buy as we head into town.
           It’s a walled city, though it’s so tiny, I would call it a small town. It’s renaissance, and I love it. The marketplace is thriving, heaving with people, and I smile at the driver as I climb out of the car.
           “I’ll meet you back here in three hours?”
           “Of course, Mrs. Brooks Westerhaven.”
          I sling my purse over one shoulder, gripping my woven shopping bag with the other hand, and wave as I slip into the crowd. There are many market stalls, but I have another destination in mind. I’ll come back to the market. I want to get some antipasti to have for lunch today.
         I stop at the pharmacy, ducking inside and making my way to the “feminine hygiene” aisle. Most of the packaging is in Italian, but what I’m looking for is a distinct box. My hand lands on it and I grab two. Just in case.
         The cashier ringing my purchases up eyes my left hand and beams. “Good luck, signora.”
         I smile absently, tucking the boxes into my shopping bag and leaving the pharmacy. I turn away from the marketplace, walking to a small boutique hotel.
          “Buongiorno, signora,” the staff member manning the reception desk beams at me.
          “Hi, I was wondering if I could have a room. Do you have any availabilities?”
          “Si, signora.”
        I hand over my brand new black Amex, that Tim insisted on getting me. He scans it, handing me an old-fashioned key, and gesturing to the stairs.
         “Second floor, signora.”
        I head up the stairs, locating the room quickly and slipping inside. Leaving my purse on the bed, I take my boxes into the bathroom, closing the door. Here goes nothing.

The car rolls up the long drive, parking in front of the villa. I clutch my woven shopping bag full of antipasti and slip out, making my way inside.
      Tim is there, walking out of the kitchen with a bottle of wine opened. He beams as I walk in, gesturing toward the terrace.
         “You said to set the table for antipasti. It’s ready.”
         “Perfect. You head out, and I’ll plate it up and bring out the platter.”
       Tim continues outside to pour the wine, as I hurry into the kitchen, plating the bread and antipasti on a lovely glass platter. After hesitating for a second, I grab a bottle of water from the fridge, tucking it under my arm and taking the food outside.
      Leaping out of his seat, Tim grabs the platter off me, setting it on the table as I sit, placing the bottle of water on the table beside the wine.
       Ignoring my glass, I reach for the food, filling my plate as Tim chatters about his vineyard tour. When our plates are full, Tim plucks up his wineglass, saluting me with it.
         “I have some news.”
         I glance across at him, my eyebrows shooting up. What a coincidence. “I have news too.”
         Tim grins, setting his glass back down and leaning across the table. “One, two, three, and at the same time?”
          He’s so ridiculous sometimes. “Sounds like a plan.”
          “Okay. One. Two. Three,” Tim recites.
          “I’m pregnant.”
          “I’m buying this villa and vineyard.”
          He’s… what? I blink at him. “What?”
          “What?” Tim stares at me, his eyes wide.
          “I’m pregnant.”
          A smile tugs at his lips, and he reaches over, plucking my wine glass up and setting it away from me.
          “You won’t need that. More wine for me.”
          I roll my eyes. Of course that’s his reaction. “You’re buying this villa and vineyard?”
         “Yeah. I spoke with Piero. He’s looking to sell, so I made an offer. Mario, the vineyard manager, is going to stay on. He lives in a small house on the property. We can come back once or twice a year for a month at a time. I thought it would be nice. Hell, maybe we’ll get an apartment in Paris too.”
        Tim falls silent, his eyes, shining with excitement, drop to my stomach. “Maybe instead of a studio, we’ll get a few bedrooms.”
         My lips twitch. “Are you happy about being a father?”
         “Even happier than about buying this place.”
      I shoot him a look. He better be happier about being a father than buying a house! Taking my hand, Tim leans across the table, brushing a kiss over my lips.
         “I love you, Angie.”
         “I love you too, Tim.”
       He sits back, still holding my hand on the table as he turns to look over the vineyards spread out before us. I have to admit, coming here for a few months a year… it’s going to be magical.
       “I can’t wait to run through the vines with our kid,” Tim sighs happily. Yeah. I can think of some other good things to do here too.
         “I can’t wait to sit right here sipping wine as I watch you.”
       Tim turns back to me, his eyes still shining, his lips stretched into a wide grin. “I look forward to making your dreams come true.”
        I squeeze his hand, my heart thudding. “Oh, Tim. You already have.”
 
The End.