Strokes (3 page)

Darcy didn’t know what he had in mind but really, who cared? She licked her finger and rubbed her sensitive clit. She had barely fallen into a rhythm when Paolo leaned closer to lap at her opening, so gentle and slow she thought she might scream. Instead, she held her breath for the next lap, then the next, before he closed his entire mouth over her slit and sucked hard. Then he wriggled his tongue inside, impossibly deep, and licked at every reachable crevice along the way.

It was too much. She retracted her finger from her clit but he simply replaced it with his own and doubled his efforts. He’d show her no mercy until ready to grant it, just as she had shown him none.

Thank God.

With a powerful cry of pleasure, she arched her back and flooded his mouth as she came long and hard. Male grunts and the wet sounds of feasting filled the air, interrupted only by more cries when he pinched her clit and compelled her to climax again. Finally he latched on to her clit with his mouth and devoured her.

By the time he pulled away, continuous orgasms had rolled through her and her pussy had never felt more wet, swollen and sated. Paolo had to lay her body out in the position he wanted before he could begin to paint.

Darcy tried to hold still but her body shuddered every few seconds. The sound of Paolo’s harsh breaths of arousal didn’t help. Her cum trickled down the crease of her ass and Paolo groaned. She heard the sound of the paintbrush hitting liquid and then he appeared at the foot of the bed, cock in hand.

One look at those tanned fingers holding the huge stalk, the head purple with desire, and she couldn’t wait either. Which was a good thing, because he’d already slipped on a condom and positioned himself between her legs. Her tissues had swollen so much that a few seconds of intense pressure passed before the head plunged in. Her pussy took over, greedily swallowing his thick cock until the wiry hairs on his balls touched her ass.

Darcy felt incredibly full, even before he spread her thighs and rested them over his forearms. He slid her body farther from the edge and followed as he climbed onto the mattress. Then he framed her face with his hands, spreading her legs even farther.

“Play time is over,
cara
. I’m going to ride you so hard it will feel like my cock is in your throat.”

“Bring it on, stud.”

With a snarl he ground against her until the pressure bordered on uncomfortable, but when he pulled back until she only engulfed the bulbous head, she eagerly anticipated the ride of her life.

He didn’t disappoint her. He fucked her hard then harder still, better than any man or manic moment with a battery-operated friend. She’d come close with the latter but had missed the sight and power of vigorous muscles between her legs and under her palms. Had missed the musky scent of aroused male filling her nostrils, of deep groans filling the air.

This time she called out to God and screamed her delight at receiving the good hard fucking she’d desired for so long. Sweat poured off them as they strained and slammed together until that grand moment when their paths clicked. Then they all-out raced for the inevitable finish.

Darcy crossed first. Her entire body clenched him wherever they connected. She wrapped herself around him inside and out, squeezing rarely used muscles in long, milking spasms. Paolo produced a sound between a grunt and a growl and ground hard against her. His loss of control added to her ultimate satisfaction.

His breath still rasped when he released her legs and collapsed atop her. Despite his deadweight, she allowed him that luxury. He’d more than earned a brief rest.

“
Cara
,” he groaned.

Very brief.

Chapter Three

Paolo tossed and turned all night. He missed Darcy in his bed and hardly believed how quickly she had managed to get under his skin. She made love with the wild abandon of a woman comfortable with her sexuality. She challenged him intellectually, emotionally and wore him out physically—not that he objected one bit. How he would miss her when he returned to Italy to participate in a loveless marriage.

All night long a nagging question rolled through his brain and still loomed over him. Could he do it?

Would Darcy want him if he did the unthinkable and defied his family for her? He could survive without a lover if he had to, but could he call that a life? He might be nothing more than a fling to her but how could he know for sure?

He thought his keen power of observation had detected sadness in her eyes when she was faced with the truth of his situation. And since the eyes are a reflection of the soul… Perhaps he had moved into her heart as she had taken up residence in his?

There was no way around it except to ask her outright. It might be too soon but he had to do something or drive himself stark raving mad with obsessive curiosity.

Paolo leapt out of bed and hopped into his jeans from the day before. He detected the scent of their mingled musk. The reminder of their sexual escapades smelled more wonderful than any fragrance he remembered.

Bare except for his jeans, he hurried down the stairs, rapped on the door of the apartment below and waited, shifting his weight from foot to foot. When she didn’t answer, he knocked harder.

At last he heard her voice sing out, “I’m coming!”

That phrase brought a smile to his lips as he recalled her yelling those same words in passion.

She tugged open the door and Paolo grabbed her by the waist. He dragged her to him, cradled her head in one hand and planted a hard kiss on her mouth. Without prompting, she opened for him. Their tongues met and tangled. She tasted as special as she had the night before.

When they broke their fervent kiss, she grinned and said, “Good morning to you too.”

She wore a leopard print robe and fuzzy brown slippers but her eyes sparkled like the sea off the coast of his island home.

“You are in a good mood this morning, no?”

She chuckled. “Yes, I’m in a very good mood.
Somehow
I got rid of all the built-up tension I’ve been living with lately.”

Paolo tipped his head. “Hmm… I wonder how that could have happened.”

As if remembering her manners, Darcy stepped aside and said, “Come in. Can I get you some coffee?”

“Yes, that would be most kind. I did not sleep well last night.”

“You didn’t?” she exclaimed. “I slept like a baby.” Darcy flashed him another knowing smile.

Paolo settled himself at her breakfast bar and grew serious. “
Cara
, I need to talk to you. I don’t think I can do this.”

Darcy’s face fell. She retrieved a mug from her cupboard and set it in front of him. She looked resigned and nodded. “I guess I can understand. I mean, you
are
engaged. It must seem like you’re cheating on her.”

“No. That is not what I mean to say. I-I am not sure I can go through with the marriage.” He stroked her face and hoped it conveyed his deep affection and longing for her—only her. “You have shown me what I will miss. It is too much to give up, even for my family.”

“Oh!” Her expression softened. “Are you sure? How will you tell them you’ve changed your mind?” She poured his coffee and sat next to him.

“Believe me,
cara
, I thought of little else throughout the night.”

She nodded. “I thought it was a bit too much to ask of you. After all, human beings have feelings. They have a right to pursue those feelings and also pursue their dreams. How else would they know where it might lead?”

“You are right, Darcy. I want to paint as much as I want to make love to you.” He smiled and told the truth. “Well, almost as much.”

She grinned and kissed his cheek.

“So, if I do this, you will still want me?”

“Oh no.” She sipped her coffee. A twinkle in her eye told him she might not mean it but he held his breath anyway.

Finally she punched his shoulder and teased, “Of course I’d want you, silly. You’re the best lay I’ve ever had.”

Best lay?
Paolo plunked his coffee on the counter. It sloshed over the side, creating a brown puddle. “Is that all I am to you? A good lay?”

She looked surprised. “Well, no. Of course not. Look, I’m sorry. I know that wasn’t very romantic but is that what we’re having? A romance? I can’t tell what you’re thinking.”

He slouched. “Maybe. I don’t know what you are thinking either.”

She framed his face with her hands. “I think you’re an incredibly talented man—in many areas. You fascinate me and I want to continue getting to know you. I want to spend time with you. I want to become friends as well as lovers.”

“Ah,” he said and smiled. “I want those same things.”

“Good.” Tossing a napkin to him, she said, “You can start by being a pal and cleaning up the mess you made.”

He laughed but took the napkin and wiped his spill. “Oh,
cara
, I can see that I will never be bored with you.”

“I certainly hope not, because I intend to keep you very busy.” She winked and blew on her coffee. Her mouth formed an O, reminding him of how she sucked his cock with her willing mouth and transported him to heaven. He was ready for another visit and he knew the direct route to get there.

* * * * *

“Paolo, I don’t think I can sit still much longer.”

“I am almost finished,
cara
. I need only paint the small, curly hairs on my favorite part of you.”

She snorted. “Some guys are breast men, some are leg men. But you’re the first vagina man I’ve met.”

He grinned but continued to paint without comment.

She went for the big guns. “I’ll shave it off if it means I can move.”

The paintbrush halted midstroke. “
Dio,
” he gasped. “It would make a perfect centerpiece for my showing. You would…” he cleared his throat, “let me?”

Darcy couldn’t resist spreading her legs just a little wider for his view. It wasn’t like the hair there was going to rearrange itself anyway. “Shave me? Hell no. But I will have it waxed and then pose for you.”

The splash of the paintbrush hitting the turpentine had become one of her favorite sounds. Second only to what usually followed, the rasp of Paolo’s zipper, the slurp of his tongue and their dual cries of ecstasy.

Only this time he stopped at the foot of the bed and just stood there, staring at her. Her Paolo, the hot Italian stud with a glorious one-track mind, looked…nervous. He was biting his lip instead of licking it, clearly having something on his mind other than sex.

And
hold the olive oil
, when had she begun to think of him as
her
Paolo?

They had known each other such a short time, but somewhere between the sittings and the unbelievable sex, long walks and shared meals, she had begun to think of him as hers. Not just her friend but
hers
. She should have realized it had happened when they curled up together after their bodies were spent, only to wake the next morning to start all over again. The few times she’d tried to stay an entire night with a man had proven those awkward mornings were not for her. With Paolo, it had evolved without a second thought.

The way he was looking at her now tightened her insides. She wondered if he felt the same way or if he just didn’t know how to tell her the bad news—that he was moving on. Or in his case, changing his mind and moving back-assward toward an arranged marriage.

“
Cara
, I would like you to know that I hold you in the highest regard. You have become…well…”

Darcy held her breath. If it was over between them, so be it, but there was no denying it would hurt.

“My muse,” he finished. “There, I have said it.”

His muse?
It was
so
not what she expected that she burst out laughing.

“Do you not understand this meaning to an artist?” His tone was incredulous. “I could not give you a higher honor if I called you my wife.”

“Oh, Paolo, I am honored. I’m not laughing at you, I’m laughing at me. I thought you’d changed your mind about staying in America.”

He looked confused. Confused and incredibly sexy.

“Why would I change my mind? You are here.”

Yes, she was. On the bed, naked and filled with warmth from head to toe. “And yet you’re way over there and one of us has too many clothes on.” She glanced down at herself. “I don’t think it’s me.”

Paolo had not expected to fall in love.

His future, which looked bleak when he’d embarked on this journey, was now intolerable. He could
not
go home and marry a woman he did not love, not after meeting the woman he was truly meant to spend the rest of his life beside. Yet he also could not bring Darcy home to his little village where she would be ostracized. The Tortuccis would see to that and it pained him to admit his own family might not act much better.

Now, more than ever, he had to earn that extension on his visa. His Darcy was a proud woman, already his lover, his muse, and he fully intend to make her his wife.

He slowly stripped for her, his woman, loving the way her eyelids grew heavy and how her glorious breasts lifted toward him with each increased breath. Then her gaze shot to his cock as it burst free from its confines and she licked her lips in anticipation.

Not this time, cara.
If he intended to demonstrate his love for her, he could not let her anywhere near his cock with that talented mouth of hers.

“You know, Paolo,” she licked her lips again, “if you want to stay here, I can help.”

“You are helping,” he assured her. “
Si
, very much so.”

“We could get married.”

“No!” His reaction came straight from his gut and it wasn’t until he saw the expression on her face that he realized how harsh it sounded. “It is not my way,” he added more softly, hoping to diffuse her anger.

Soothing her did not happen. In unity with men the world over, he’d made it worse.

“Not your way?” she sputtered. “Hello? Does the name Sophia ring a bell?”

Ring a…ah! Si
, Sophia, the woman he had agreed to marry for the wrong reasons. Did his Darcy not realize that was exactly why he did not want to do it that way? Seeing the anger sparking his way, he supposed not.

He sighed. There was no hope for it. He had to be the one to say it first. It wasn’t the romantic scene he had planned but neither was having another woman break all the new dishes she had given him. Darcy would break them on his head, judging by the sparks flaring in her eyes at his silence.

“I do not love her,” he stated.

“Exactly.”

“
Cara
, you do not hear me.” Paolo took an even bigger chance and climbed on the bed until he was hovering just over her prone body, ignoring the daggers of warning that replaced the flames in her eyes. He did, however, strategically place his legs between hers before he tried again. “I do not love
her
.”

She remained silent. She didn’t even blink, though her eyes no longer shot daggers at him. No doubt she understood what he was saying and was no longer furious with him and that his not wanting to marry her for a green card was not an insult.

Paolo knew all of this, what he didn’t know was how she felt about him in return. As the seconds dragged on, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. When she opened her mouth to speak and nothing came out, he decided that giving her more time was the best option. She obviously wasn’t herself.

So he kissed her.

Had Paolo just said he loved her? Men didn’t say that first, they waited until the woman said it, then they milked it, then they were gone. Well, unless they needed something. But Paolo did need something and she had offered it and he refused.
Then
he told her he loved her.

Son of a bitch!
He really loved her! She didn’t know what to say. For the first time in more years than she cared to count, she was shocked into silence. She’d readily given up on this whole scenario ever happening for her, without regret, and then
whammo
! It happened in two weeks time. With an Italian stud who could kiss like the devil. Who hadn’t received any commitment from her whatsoever. Well, that was about to change!

Using surprise as leverage, she maintained their kiss as she flipped them over. Then she sat up on his stomach, loving the feel of his hot skin under her thighs, his even hotter erection prodding her ass.

She meant business and she wanted him to know it. “If I’m your muse, I call the shots. Fuck with me and you’re toast.”

Paolo blinked up at her. “Did you not want me to fuck with you? How do we fuck toast? I did not make any toast.”