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Authors: Melinda De Ross

Falling for Italy (16 page)

BOOK: Falling for Italy
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When they entered the lobby, Sonia felt like a pauper entering a sumptuous palace, in her comfortable jeans and thick red jacket. Beside her, Giovanni walked like a prince, unmindful of his casual attire, as simple as hers except for the fact he wore a black jacket.

A bellman rushed to get their small bags and welcomed them in Italian. She sighed inwardly, full of love and admiration for her lover. No matter if he wore a three thousand pounds suit or jeans and a sweater, he breathed class through every pore. Such a refined man would never go unnoticed.

“Are you a regular customer here?” she asked him in a whisper, as they were led to the elevators by another man who had black hair, a tidy beard and was dressed in an impeccable black suit.

“Pretty much. Whenever I come to Rome—for business or to visit Mother—I stay here.”

Their suite was on the top floor. When the bellman opened their door, Sonia had to suppress a gasp and barely managed to keep her jaw from dropping with astonishment.

The apartment was fit for any king and his queen. The furniture, carpets, paintings and statuettes seemed to belong in a royal museum. Though everything was much too fussy for her practical, simple taste, she had to admit the place was spectacular.

The anteroom—if that’s what it was called—was as large as their living room at home, having a couple of sofas with a classic design, chairs and ornate tables holding candlesticks and other objects of art. The carpet was enormous, sporting a colorful complicated pattern, and the walls were overly fraught with paintings and flourishes.


Grazzie, Lorenzo
,” Giovanni told the bellman and passed him a generous tip after he’d put their luggage on one of the sofas.


Mile grazzie, signore Coriola. Signora.
” The man inclined his head politely in Sonia’s direction and left, closing the door behind him.

“Holy crap!” she exclaimed and jumped into her lover’s arms, locking her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck. He spun her in a circle, grinning.

“Like it,
cara
?”

“I love it! Though it’s kind of fussy for my taste, I think I can live here for a couple of days.”

“Let me show you the bedroom,” he whispered and gently scraped her ear with his teeth. “I believe you’ll like it even more.”

He carried her into the bedroom, and then put her down so she could look around.

The room was elegant and comfortable, furnished simpler than the anteroom. The bed was enormous, with an ornate iron headboard. Other furnishings included two nightstands, an armoire, a couple of chairs and a vanity that would have made even a princess happy.

“Mmm, it’s fabulous, baby,” she said dreamily and let herself fall onto the bed, testing its softness. She practically sank into the white satin covers smelling of jasmine and something else, more exotic.

When she opened her eyes idly, she saw her own reflection watching her from the ceiling mirror.

“Oh, my!” she marveled over this discovery. “Now this is something new.”

“I want to install a ceiling mirror at home, in our bedroom. What do you think?”

She kept looking in the silver glass and saw Giovanni approaching the bed. He took off her boots, one by one.

“I don’t know… What would be the fun in watching yourself while you fall asleep?”

“Sleep isn’t all we do in bed,” he said in a taunting voice and bent over her, pressing her deeper into the mattress with his hard body.

“When is your mother expecting us?” she whispered against his lips.

“We have plenty of time,” he replied in a low voice, and then kissed her, his tongue stroking hers in a possessive and erotic way that never failed to thrill her.

He combed his hands through her hair, which was fanned on the pillow, trailing kisses on her throat and jaw. She moaned with the pleasure of it, her fingers kneading the strong muscles of his back and shoulders through his shirt. The purely masculine smell of him drove her crazy. She never could get enough of that simple scent of man—her man.

He slowly undid the pearl buttons of her white cashmere sweater, before pulling her up, his eyes locked on hers, dark and intense. He slipped the soft fabric over her shoulders, then lowered her back on the pillows. He unzipped her jeans and dragged them down her legs along with her black lacy panties.

She remained naked, except for the ruby amulet gleaming between her breasts like a red fire-eye. He kissed her breasts tenderly, then with more urgency, drawing them into his mouth. She arched her back, craving more and caught their reflection in the ceiling mirror. It was strangely arousing to see herself lying naked, to watch Giovanni fully dressed, his hands caressing her breasts while his dark head trailed down, hovering above her midriff, using his lips expertly.

When his tongue dipped teasingly into her navel, she saw her own hands clutching the sheets. She closed her eyes unable to focus on anything except the incredible sensations of his strong fingers parting her thighs, his warm breath clouding over her as he kissed the most sensitive part of her body.

A gasp escaped through her lips as her hips curved toward him. She had no shame and no reason, driven only by the primal need for release and the almost unbearable pleasure of what his skilled mouth was doing to her.

It was a few dazed minutes before she realized he’d stopped, leaving her wanting and breathing hard.

“God, why… Why did you stop?” she managed to utter through a dry throat. He didn’t reply and when she pried her eyes open, she saw he was removing his sweater. The image of his bare torso was a breath-stopper. Under his caramel skin, the perfectly sculptured muscles of his chest and abdomen moved sinuously, as he unzipped his jeans and lowered them on his hips.

The sight of his rigid, perfectly proportioned erection made her mouth water. She couldn’t remember wanting anything as badly as she wanted him that very moment.

She reached out for him, but he trapped her hands in one of his, keeping them high above her head, buried in the satin sheets. When she made a sound of protest and tried to shift under his weight, he kissed her ravenously while he continued running his other hand all over her, his clever fingers knowing exactly how and where to touch her.

She closed her eyes, giving way to the indescribable wave of heat and need. She pushed against him, whispering urgently, “I want you… Now!”

Still, he didn’t let go of her hands. His breath came as fast as hers against her lips, and she could feel his smoldering desire when his hard sex touched hers. She was hot and wet, desperately yearning for him. She opened her legs wider, quivering as he did when he slipped into her just a bare inch. She wanted more; she wanted him to fill her, hard and fast. His self-control was maddening and frustrating as he rocked slowly, barely teasing her, though his shallow breaths told her he wanted just as badly to be deep inside her.

His mouth trailed down, kissing her neck and the lobe of her ear. Through glazed eyes she could see their reflection in the mirror above, Giovanni on top of her, his muscled bare back tense and just a glimpse of his sexy ass in the well-lit room.

“Enjoying the view,
cara
?” His lips stretched in a wicked smile, and he traced her lower lip with his tongue.

Before she could answer, he withdrew. Taking his sex into his hand, he began stroking her damp center with the velvety tip, in circular motions. Her head was spinning, all of her muscles contracted with the intoxicating pleasure. The nails of her trapped hand sank into her captor’s skin, but she couldn’t help it. She rocked her hips and arched them toward him, consumed by the purely elemental desire to be taken, to be dominated by him.

“Oh, God! Please, Giovanni.” She bit his lower lip hard before he finally pushed himself fully into her, making her cry out in the ecstasy of fulfillment. She only needed a few deep powerful thrusts to bring her to a mind-blowing orgasm. Her body trembled violently with the supreme pleasure of her release. She felt him climax at the same time, burying himself deep inside her as his body quivered in rapture.

They were both breathing hard when he lowered himself on her, supporting his weight on shaky elbows and his forehead on her shoulder. The aftershocks of their lovemaking still jolted through both of them for a long time. Dizzy with satisfaction and repletion, her every muscle limp, she barely had the energy to utter a breathless, “God! That was…the best sample of eye-crossing sex.”

His chest rumbled with laughter.

“It’s always like that with you, Sonia,” he said through shallow breaths and turned his face to lay a soft kiss on her neck.

She wrapped her arms around him, squeezing tightly. She was overwhelmed with love for him, with the happiness he’d brought into her life. The fact that a man like Giovanni loved her, that he gave his best for her was a continuous source of wonder and joy. Never in her most romantic and optimistic fantasies had she dreamed a man like that even existed. And now he was here in her arms, replete and satisfied. She was sure of his love and devotion to her, as she was sure she would die for him without a qualm.

As though sensing her drift into that land of emotions so powerful they could move mountains and melt hearts, he lifted his head and looked at her. His eyes were dark and deep, transmitting to her only by visual contact all she needed to know, even before he said it, in his rich, husky voice.

“I love you.”

She stroked his cheek, enjoying the texture of his skin, now damp with sweat.

“I know.”

He kissed her lips tenderly, the hint of a smile lighting his handsome face. He sighed deeply and started to detach himself from her.

“I guess we should shower and go see Mother,” he said. “I’m hungry. I hope she’ll invite us to a late lunch.”

“You go first. I’m just going to lie here for a week.”

“You can have fifteen minutes,
cara.
Do you want us to find Mom pissed off because we were late?” he asked slyly as he headed to the bathroom, grinning widely when he saw her circumspect expression.

“Okay, okay,” she muttered to the bathroom door, then stretched voluptuously, giving herself a moment of delighting in sweet and absolute satisfaction.

She wrapped the sheet around her and went to get their bags. Since they were only going to stay for a couple of days, they had only taken a change of clothes each, underwear, some toiletries and other strictly necessary paraphernalia. As Giovanni had pointed out, they were going to shop anyway and return with a lot more bags.

She put their clothes on the shelves of the elegant-looking armoire, the toiletries and cosmetics on the vanity. Giovanni had refused to leave his laptop behind, so she put it next to his nightstand. The man was addicted to computers, she thought. But since that was what he knew how to do best—except for sex, of course—and it brought him lots of money, she couldn’t complain.

She was just heading to the bathroom when the door opened and he emerged, buck naked, drying his hair with a towel. She couldn’t believe the sight of his magnificent body could still squeeze an ounce of desire from her after the time he’d just given her. She was wrong. Lust was already gathering in her stomach and heading south at full speed.

“Giovanni, do you think I’m a nymphomaniac?” she asked seriously.

He looked stunned before he burst out laughing.

“What makes you ask that,
cara
?” he said, moving toward her, sliding his arms around her waist and brushing his lips over hers.

“Um, I was just wondering,” she said, trying to sound casual. “I’ve never in my life felt so…wanton.”

He smiled against her lips, and then whispered into her ear.

“Well, if you’re a nymphomaniac, so am I.”

She looked down at the obvious evidence of this statement and swallowed hard.

“Down, boy.”

“Too late.”

“Okay. This is way too tempting, so I’m just going to take a shower now. A cold one.”

She wiggled out of his embrace and dove for the bathroom.

“Don’t you wanna . . .” he asked insinuatingly.

“Oh, I wanna. I want it so bad I’d have to restrain myself with handcuffs.”

“Interesting suggestion.”

“But the thought of your mother is enough to cool me down. At least for a while.”

She winked at him and closed the bathroom door in his face.

She was shocked to discover the bathroom was almost a replica of their own bathroom at home, except for the fact it was done in black and white. So now she knew where Giovanni had gotten inspiration for that as well. She wondered vaguely if other women had accompanied him in this suite or other similar ones.
Stupid! Of course they had. Lots of them.

It didn’t matter, she told herself, trying to ignore the twinge of pain in her heart. He was hers now. He loved her, she was sure of it. And she would keep him, no matter what. She wasn’t a wimpy female consumed by jealousy, who spent her time dwelling on her man’s past, in detriment of living the future.

In this positive and determined mindset, she smiled at herself in the mirror. The ruby amulet still laid between her breasts. She slipped the chain over her head, then weighed the round pendant in her palm. Just now she noticed the silver pattern surrounding the ruby formed a pentagram, if you looked at it from a certain distance. Odd, she mused. The whole story of this amulet was bizarre. Giovanni and she would have to take the time to dig deeper and find out more about it. For all they knew the piece was a fake, though she didn’t think so.

BOOK: Falling for Italy
3.32Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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