A Dance for Him (46 page)

“If you get on the Pill I’ll give you all the creampies you want, you gorgeous little slut,” he says, his voice taking on a strangely effective combination of authority and velvety seduction. “I’m looking forward to that, actually. I’d like to fuck you in a deserted alleyway, come inside you, and then have you walk home with me with my cum spilling down your leg, so everyone who sees you will know you’re a dirty little whore, and, most importantly,
my
dirty little whore. Because, just for your information, you’re not going to have much occasion for panties when you’re around me - I’ll want easy access to your pretty cunt, which was made to be filled up as often as possible. Fuck, I’d love to bend you over in the green room and pound you silly before you play a concerto with me, so that I’d know you were holding a bit of me inside you the entire time we’re on stage …”

I feel my lips part reflexively as I inhale, and he smiles, knowing that he’s just turned me on even more.

“But
that
, beautiful,” he continues roguishly, “
that
is something that you’ll only get as a reward for doing what I want you to do.”

Oh God. When he’s talking like this, is it even possible to
not
do just about anything - anything! - for him? …

And so I comply and carefully unroll the condom onto his impossibly thick shaft, thanking my stars that I’ve watched enough informational videos to do this without making a complete fool of myself.

He smiles and runs a finger across my lips as he devours me with his eyes.

Before I know it, I’m lying on my back, he’s pushed my legs apart, and he’s guiding his cock between my sopping wet folds.

Once he’s in place he drives in with a sudden thrust, making me cry out.

I’ve been made to wait for so long that being so deeply penetrated comes almost as a sort of relief. “Oh God, please fuck me, Renzo,” I gasp, “please, I need to be fucked.”

He grins roguishly. “Always happy to oblige you, beautiful,” he growls, and next thing I know he’s kissing me as he pounds into me.

I hold onto his strong back with one hand and run my other hand through his luxuriant hair. It feels good having all that strength and weight on top of me, it’s like being crushed, but in an erotic way, as though we were somehow dissolving into each other.

In an effort to get even closer I wrap my legs around him, and it’s perhaps the change in the way my pussy grips his cock that makes him groan as he takes a break to look at me, his face flushed and delighted, before he redoubles his efforts.

This time it doesn’t take long to push me over the edge.

“Oh God, Renzo, yes,” I stammer breathlessly between kisses as my pussy contracts around him, sending waves of pleasure through me, waves that are so intense that for a moment I think I’m about to pass out. “Oh, Evie,” he groans, and then I feel his cock grow bigger and then pulse a few times inside me before he pulls out and collapses onto me.

We lie there for a moment in sweaty, happy exhaustion before he kisses me again.

“God, Evie, you have no idea how happy you make me,” he murmurs, and though on some level this seems incredible to me, it’s nevertheless true that he looks absolutely radiant, his handsome face flushed, his eyes sparkling with tenderness.

My eyes fill with tears for some reason I cannot quite grasp, except that I do know I feel profoundly moved by what he’s just said.

Embarrassed, I try to blink my tears away, but not so successfully that he doesn’t notice.

“What’s wrong, Evie? Did I say something to upset you?”

“Oh no, no, Renzo, not at all,” I say, smiling at him to reassure him, as he’s looking somewhat alarmed. “It’s just that - that I’m so glad that I’m able to make you happy …”

“My dear girl! Of course you make me happy, why wouldn’t you?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever made anyone happy before,” I blurt out without thinking.

He looks at me incredulously for a moment before his eyes light up with a melancholy understanding.

After a pause, he strokes my cheek.

“It’s all going to be different from now on,” he says firmly. “You’re going to be taken care of, and you’re going to learn that you matter to me, Evie. Because you do - a great deal. I swear I’ve never felt for
anyone
what I feel for you. And you know what, Evie? I want to make you happy too.”

“Oh, Renzo,” I sigh tenderly. “You already do. I’ve never been so happy in my entire life.”

He kisses me, and then I snuggle up in his strong, manly arms, so protective, so comforting, so securing.

“Does that mean you’ll marry me, Evie?”

I look up at him, my eyes wide.

“M-marry you, Renzo?” I stammer, half-uncomprehendingly at first, before I have the thought that surely he’s joking, or I’ve misheard something.

“Yes, Evie, I am asking you to marry me,” he growls, chuckling slightly at my disbelief.

As my still orgasm-addled brain kicks back into focus, I feel a smile spread over my face, a big smile that I couldn’t repress even if I wanted to.

“Oh, Renzo … Of course I will.”

EPILOGUE

Three months later

So it all worked out in the end, which is why she’s currently sleeping in my arms, to my infinite happiness.

Rather than enrolling at the conservatory, which would require her to be in Milan most of the year, she’s going to continue studying with Alfieri on a less formal basis, so she can travel with me most of the time, while going back for the occasional lesson. I’ve also talked to some of my contacts, and we’re going to try and arrange things so that she’ll eventually have gigs in the cities that I’ll be in, so she’ll have something to do while I deal with long rehearsals rather than just twiddling her thumbs, but also because, frankly, she’s perfectly ready for that sort of thing.

Alfieri told me as much, in a conversation I had with him shortly before the wedding last week, at which he was a witness, of course.

Apparently he’d thought that this arrangement would make more sense for her, given the obvious quality of her playing.

“She’s really ready to launch, of course,” he said, “that’s why I sent her to you. It seemed that the only missing piece in the puzzle was her own belief that she was ready - but with you around I think things could be quite different. She just needed to be
seen
, you know.”

“Yes,” I said to him, “I thought you might have done it on purpose. But tell me, did you know about who she was? I mean, that she was a Smythson on her mother’s side? Did you send her to me thinking that I was going to fall in love with her or something? I mean, you knew about Victoria, I was studying with you when all that happened.”

“Perhaps - who knows?” he said after a brief pause, then smiled enigmatically, in that elfin, ageless, whimsical way he’s always had about him. “At any rate I thought she would be good for you as well.”

And that’s probably as much of an admission as I’m ever going to get out of him, the dear old fellow.

Of course he was right, as he’s always been.

The last three months have been the best of my life. I haven’t ever lived with anyone before, and I never thought it could be as wonderful as it’s been.

It doesn’t hurt that, as I intuited at the beginning, she’s a very sweet girl. My large extended family adores her, and I don’t think it’s just because they’ve been on at me to settle down for a while - Aurelia’s very fond of her as well, which is more than can be said of some of my ex-flings!

I think it’s been good for Evie as well - I have the distinct impression that all this familial warmth - so different from her own experiences in the past - has been good for her, has brought her out of her shell.

Not that the
Smythson
side of the equation has been an issue …

When I first brought up the question of how old Smythson would react to this, she laughed - and, as it turns out, quite sensibly. “Gramps has always preferred concealment to communication,” she noted wryly, “and I think this might be an instance where it’ll actually work really well for us.”

And she was quite right. Not only have her grandparents been perfectly civil, if mildly taken aback and not exactly the
warmest
ever, it seems they never even bothered to tell her about the old episode with Victoria, so even if I’d never told her, she’d never have found out.

But I’m glad I
did
tell her.

I must say, though, that I certainly can’t find it in my heart to be annoyed with Victoria any more for her old perfidy - if she hadn’t dumped me, if she hadn’t then run off with this Courtenay fellow all those years ago, Evie would never have existed.

And that would be a terrible shame, because she’s utterly perfect for me. Ever since we hooked up, I’ve had no desire to go back to my old lifestyle, not just because the last thing I want to do is to hurt her, but also because what I used to do seems unthinkably tedious, now that I’ve experienced what it’s like to be with a woman who’s both a lover and a best friend to me.

Because, for the first time in my life, I’ve come to understand what it is people are talking about when they use the word
soulmate
.

It’s true that the papers and gossip blogs have been rather on at us about the age difference and her relative youth ever since we got married a month ago, but it seems to amuse her in an odd kinky sort of way. I think she likes the idea of being my plaything, likes that everybody assumes (correctly, ha!) that I’m fucking her silly every opportunity I get.

Sometimes I think that’s why she’s more than willing to brave the tabloids when we have our more adventurous escapades …

And we’ve had quite a few - I swear the shy, quiet ones always turn out to have the dirtiest minds!

She’s definitely lived up to her initial offer to be my submissive plaything, and my cock still never fails to stir at the slightest hint of her imminent presence.

Obviously I haven’t gotten very much work done over the last few months. Let’s just say that the summer has indeed been the ecstatic fuckfest that I’d predicted when I first suspected her interest in me ...

Anyhow, it’s been glorious. We’ve pretty much experimented with everything - anal, BDSM, toys - and she’s turning out to be quite my match in the pursuit of pleasure, now that I’ve thoroughly corrupted her. It’s hard to imagine that just three months ago, before she met me, she’d never had a cock in her, never even so much as held a cock in her pretty little hand …

One of the things she’s really turned me on to, I must say, has been public or semi-public sex.

Of course there’s only so much one can do in that regard, with the paparazzi around and with me being rather recognizable, to say the least.

But we manage.

We occasionally have a quickie in some deserted alley or other, just as I’d fantasised about when I first met her, but fucking on the palazzo balcony overlooking the Grand Canal has become a particular favorite. We usually wait till it’s reasonably late at night, once the
vaporetti
stop running, and then we make our way upstairs to the topmost balcony.

The first few times she was at least partially dressed, and she tried not to make too much noise, which was exciting in its own way, but then she started to loosen up, and before I knew it she was slinking out there naked, giving me blowjobs while only partially obscured by the balcony rail, or even allowing me to bend her over the balcony rail, not worrying in the least about trying to repress her sweet cries of ecstasy and the jiggling of her beautiful tits as I pound into her.

It’s lucky that it’s a long way across to the next building, or we’d probably be providing the neighbors with quite the show!

It’s funny, it’s not like I’ve never done anything like this before (albeit maybe not quite so blatantly, and on so regular a basis!).

But there’s always a special frisson with her.

It’s almost as though it’s not just about naughtiness, even if that’s a big part of it.

On the contrary, it’s almost as though we were announcing our love to all and sundry, not worrying about concealing anything, letting it be quite obvious that we love each other, that we want each other, that we enjoy fucking each other.