Sharing Nicely (11 page)

“Yes,” I agreed, the friction of his cock inside me and the deep meaning of his words making my insides tremor in bliss. “Oh fuck, yes. Don’t ever leave me, Greg, please. Never leave me.”

“I never will,” he gasped, gripping my hip tighter with one hand and dropping the other to where we were joined. He pressed against my clit and with a few more thrusts I came. Hard and fast and with such passion that I cried out loudly and curled up around him. He grabbed both hips and drove into my replete body, slamming into me until his own orgasm sparked. He called my name and pulled me down to his chest. He cradled me in his arms as we panted out the lingering throb of pleasure and rode on the euphoria of contentment.

Sliding to lie beside him I found myself cradled in his arm, my head in the nook of Greg’s shoulder. My buttocks stung and the rest of me was relaxed in mellow repletion.

“Are you busy tomorrow?” Greg asked, rousing me from my journey to sleep.

“Hmm, well, I should be at the club, but Taylor’s getting good at managing in my absence.”

“How do you fancy flying with me into the sunset?”

“Where will we go?”

“Wherever you like.”

“I’ve always fancied Venice.”

“Then we shall go to Venice. Book the rest of the week off work. I’ll go and ring Chester and set it all up.”

“Okay.”

I rolled out of bed and started to pack.

Chapter Seven

It was the moment I stepped into the water taxi that it truly hit home that we were in Venice. Water surrounded us, the airport loomed behind and I followed Greg onto a small, dark wood boat that looked like something straight out of a James Bond film. He held my hand as I delicately made my way down the steps.

“
Ca de Conti, per favore
,” Greg confidently spoke to the taxi driver. I wondered for a moment if he actually was a driver, considering his taxi floated. Did that make him a taxi captain?

“Is that man a taxi driver, sailor or captain?” I asked when Greg came to join me in the seated area behind the man in charge of the vehicle. He sat on the plump leather sofa directly beside me even though there was room for a dozen people in the cabin at least.

“I don’t know,” Greg replied. “I’ve never thought about that.” He wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “And to be truthful, I’m not thinking about that right now, either.”

The engine purred to life, the blue water stirred around us and the boat moved forward.

“What are you thinking?” I asked, directing my question to the curve of his ear, tempted to lean in and nibble his lobe, it looked so inviting.

“I was thinking it’d be hot to fuck you in a water taxi.”

My breath caught in my throat and was kept there as Greg captured my lips with his. He ran his hand down my arm and clasped my hand. He gently tugged until my palm cupped his crotch and I could feel the erection straining against the material. The warm air stirred through my hair, I could smell the water and feel the heat on my face from the sun shining through the glass. He finally pulled back so I could breathe.

“But we’ll be seen,” I gasped.

“Our captain is occupied,” he said, “and if I push you down here”—he shoved me and I sprawled out on the long, blue chair, the cold leather cooling my heated skin—“no one else will be able to see.”

He quickly climbed above me, slipping his legs between mine. I strained my neck to look behind me. The swarthy gentleman who we’d decided to call captain was definitely absorbed in looking forward, not back, and although I could see the sky above us, I could no longer see any of the other vessels crowding the busy waterway. My heart thudded in my chest.

Greg leaned on one arm and ran the other hand down over my hip to the edge of my short, flippy skirt. He pushed it up and wiggled his fingers against the crotch of my knickers.

“You’re soaked,” he groaned, rubbing his fingers up, over and around my tingling clit. “You want this as much as I do.”

His hard gaze never left mine. His pupils were so wide with lust that his eyes seemed ebony black. I fell into the depths of them and just nodded.

He gripped the crotch of my knickers and pulled it to the side. His trousers were already loosened I noticed, as I gazed down his body to see his long erection open to the air.

“Shit, condom,” he cursed and paused in his movements.

“I’m on the pill,” I gulped. “I’ve never fucked a guy without a condom before.”

“I’ve never fucked without a condom either,” he replied, gaze locked with mine. “I really want you, but I’ll wait if you need the extra protection…”

“No”—after only a second’s hesitation—“I trust you, Greg. Just fuck me, please.”

Greg looked up, checking on the captain I presumed, then he looked down at me with a broad grin.

“My first,” he whispered, shuffling forward and pressing his cock down to rub against my wet slit.

My eyes brimmed with tears at the soft, tender words and the significance of the moment. His eyes closed, he slid inside me and I couldn’t keep mine open either as the spark of lust ignited. He pushed his way gently into me. My walls eased wide for him then clutched him tightly. I revelled in the warmth of his flesh against my flesh, the intimacy of the act.

Greg curled his body over me and I wrapped my ankles around his back and held him tight, only momentarily wondering if my ankles would be on view to the boats around. It would be very obvious what we were up to if all they could see were my linked ankles. However, I didn’t care. The man I loved was inside me, hard, hot and unsheathed. We were sharing a first together and I was overwhelmed by the strength of love that flowed between us.

The coupling was short and fast. He came inside me and I clung to him, ankles and hands linked around his body, holding him tight. Our eyes opened and we kissed. Smiles blossomed across our faces then Greg quickly scrambled back, zipped himself up and sat prim and proper in his seat. I followed him and a moment later we were snuggled together in a polite embrace. Only the flush of red in his cheeks and mine—I knew they were, I could feel the heat—even hinted at what had happened seconds before.

“We are here.” The captain finally looked over his shoulder as he cut the engine.

“Thank you.” Greg stood and offered me his hand. He led me off the boat and directly into the hotel. The big black doors in their white stone frame opened directly out onto the canal. Greg handed over payment then followed me into the marble grandeur of the hotel reception.

You would think that after a while you’d get used to being surrounded by opulence. I can tell you that I was as awed in that hotel as I had been in London and in Paris. Everywhere sparkled. It smelt fresh and floral. There was marble and gold leaf and big mirrors. I felt like I’d stepped back in time.

Greg dealt with the receptionist in Italian. I had no idea what he said but it was intensely sexy to hear him speaking in a foreign tongue. We were guided up a few flights of stairs and to a huge white door. Greg palmed a tip to the young lad and he smiled, nodded and headed back down the stairs when Greg pushed open the door and stepped back to let me go first.

I was expecting to see just a room with a bed—naïve, I know, but I hadn’t been in the company of a billionaire long enough to expect anything more. The room I entered was huge, with blue walls flecked with ornate gold diamonds and furniture that looked like it belonged in a museum. But there were stairs in the room, leading up. I had to follow them.

They curved round and ended on a mezzanine floor. Before me was a huge bed, bedecked in blue silks and swaged with gold drapes. The rest of the room was decorated with just a few modest pieces of dark, curvaceously lined furniture. It was stunningly beautiful.

“Eighteenth-century elegance, you can’t beat it.” Greg wrapped a strong arm around my waist and rested his chin on my shoulder.

“I feel like a princess,” I sighed happily. “Like a fairy story come to life.”

“Oh no, sweetheart, that will be tomorrow night. It’s Carnival time here in Venice and I have an invite to the best masquerade ball in town.”

“Really?” My voice took on a high-pitched squeak. “I’ve always wanted to go to a masquerade ball.”

“Really. And we’ll go shopping for costumes tomorrow.”

“And we’ll get masks?” I barely contained my excitement.

“Yes,” he purred. “I’ll buy you a mask.”

“I can afford to buy my own mask, you know.” I bristled, my mind cast back to a similar conversation with Darren.

“I know, sweetheart, but let me spoil you. I’ve missed you so much.” He spun me round until I faced him.

I was about to argue with him that money and gifts couldn’t make up for lost time, but he bent his head and kissed me and I lost track of my argument. I was still fizzing with sexual energy from the encounter on the canal and so I easily gave up my high ground to be pushed gently but inexorably towards the bed. I might be a strong independent woman, but come on, who didn’t like to be spoilt every now and then?

“You’re so soft,” he groaned in my ear. He stretched beside me and slid his hand up my thigh. “And giving. And so damn sexy.”

Greg leaned over and kissed me and all protest—all thought, come to that—disappeared from my mind. He continued to insinuate his hand farther under my skirt, pushing up and under the light floral cotton until the tips of his fingers brushed the sodden material of my knickers. He growled his approval. His lips never left mine as he scrambled his fingers under the fabric and onto my springy pubic hair.

My hips lifted and pushed against him in a wanton display of need and lust. I bumped my hips and when I wriggled he moved his touch lower until one of his long fingers ran down the length of my sodden slit. He moved one way as I bounced the other and I was soon panting and moaning against his lips as a powerful orgasm stirred deep within me. He didn’t stop, he didn’t tease me. I think he knew how desperate I was for release.

Snippets of our escapade in the water taxi came back to me as my clit tingled from his strokes. The ruffle of the breeze on my bare legs, the cold leather that warmed against my back, the drone of the motor, the thrill of being seconds away from discovery. All that coalesced with the attention Greg lavished upon me and I came. My hips lifted up off the bed and my lips pressed hard and tight against his.

“For the record,” I gasped and snuggled into his body, “that will not always be the best way to stop an argument between us.”

Greg kissed the top of my head and I snuggled into him. “I know.” He stroked my upper arm. “But it’s a pretty good weapon to have in my arsenal.”

I chuckled, content to rest against him and let the rhythm of my heart slow. I knew he wasn’t trying to buy my affection so I let the matter rest and I drifted off to sleep in the shelter of his arms.

We woke up a little later and went out to explore. It was wonderful to be in a place of such beauty with the man I loved. It was also quiet. The media hadn’t got wind of his trip.

“I’m sure they’ll find me eventually. They always do,” Greg replied when I pointed out the lack of cameras pointing at him. “But it’s good to have a break from them.”

“I bet. I’m not sure I could do it.”

“Well, darling, if you’re going to spend much time with me, you’ll have to get used to it.”

“For you”—I stopped walking and turned to him—“I could learn to put up with anything.”

“Anything?” he growled and cocked his head to the side.

“Uh-huh,” I whispered, tipping my head back and kissing him. The world passed on by as we embraced. I didn’t care who watched, I was lost in his kiss.

“I will remember that.” He smiled. “And maybe I’ll hold you to it.”

“I hope so.” I dropped my gaze to my shoe tips and we continued to meander along the winding streets of Venice. We ended up at the Ponte della Paglia and gazed at the famed Bridge of Sighs.

“I’ve always wanted to see this place since I heard about it as a child. I don’t know why, the legend with it about the prisoners is such a morbid one.”

“Ah, but have you heard of another legend, one far lighter and much more romantic?”

“No.” I shook my head.

“Well, the sun is going down and I know where we can hire a gondola. When we’re on the boat I will tell you it.”

I’d not been on a boat in years before Venice. It had only been one of those pedal boats when I had been young and Richard Parks from the year below me in school had been trying to win me over. Making me get in a cold plastic boat on a typically wet British summertime day then making me pedal to move the silly-looking swan hadn’t worked to his advantage.

The gondola I got into with Greg was a far grander affair with red velvet seats, the back in the shape of a heart, surrounded with ornate golden twists of foliage and decorated with peachy-bottomed cherubs. Greg gave his instructions to the striped-topped gondolier in Italian then settled in his seat beside me, clasping my hand in his.

“I’m intensely impressed by your Italian, love,” I purred.

“Why, thank you.” He leaned in and kissed my cheek. “I speak it fairly well, along with a few other languages.”

“What else do you speak?”

“Limited Japanese and Chinese, some Spanish, then I’m fairly accomplished at German and French. I’ve always loved languages. I also find people are happier to do business with you if you can talk to them in their own language, or you at least give it a try.”