Undressed (9 page)

Massimo’s face remained impervious. She heard him jingle loose change in his pocket. He coughed, cleared his throat and said, “An acquisition is the solution viable for us both. Girasoli will acquire Easton. You will work for Girasoli and receive full benefits, health care, retirement, an expense account, you name it. Girasoli will give your entire team plenty of vacation time—whatever you want.”

“Come again?”
Hell to the maaaybe.

“Today, watching what you did with the designs
confermato
my interest. Girasoli needs you. And Easton needs Girasoli. It is best for everyone. Think it over
.”

“There is nothing to think over.” She bluffed. A regular paycheck with benefits versus her unstable startup and lack of cash, which flowed out, never in, made her pussy cream more than thinking about Massimo’s fat dick.

“When you are ready, I will have my attorneys draw up the paperwork, assuming you agree on the price. Would you care to know the
prezzo
I’m offering for Easton?”

“No, I would not. Easton is priceless. There isn’t enough money in the world for my baby.” Easton was her child. An all consuming, demanding, fulltime, pain in her ass child, but she loved her two-year-old Easton regardless.

“Girasoli will wage five times Easton’s annual gross,” Massimo enticed without hesitation.

“Last year’s gross? Or this year’s projected revenue?”

“This year,” he affirmed.

She did the calculations in her head and rounded up to the nearest million. “Three hundred flippin’ mil.”
Hell to the Yaaah
.

“
Sì, sì, sì
.” He hushed her as she opened her mouth to speak again. Extending his arm, he said, “Shall I take you to the spa? We can talk about this in more detail later. We have all week.”

With Jell-O legs, she clung to his side as they left the executive suite. The words jumbled in her mouth but couldn’t come out with any intelligence, so she kept silent.
Three hundred million dollars, oh my Oscar de la Renta
. More mullah than she’d ever thought possible. Regardless of what’d happened, she was here for the week. She might as well enjoy it. But she sure as hell wasn’t going to sell him Easton Essentials.

* * * * *

Aquae Calidae, I’m so flippin’ excited. Clean pores, here I come.

“I’ve heard amazing things about your oxygen facial. My friend Vive experienced your services last year. She was here for Milan’s fashion week. Raved about you for weeks. That’s huge considering Vive never has anything nice to say about anyone.” Lex complimented the esthetician as she tucked herself under the white sheets at the spa. Inhaling the sharp lavender smell, she tried to void Massimo’s rejection from her mind.

“
Grazie
,” Sophia said as she swiped a wet sponge over Lex’s face.

As her nails were buffed and lacquered in a juicy watermelon pink, her body wrapped in brown algae cocooned in Mylar sheets, and her face blasted in oxygen, her mind was on the prince.

Unlike some women, she didn’t store her sex life away with the marriage notion. Taddy, Vive and she weren’t on the Kleinfield Bridal Salon bandwagon. The one in their circle to wed was Blake Morgan and
his
gay marriage to “Mister Limp Dick” didn’t go so well. Blake mentioned the straights could keep the wedding thing.

There was nothing wrong with those who did save for marriage. Lex hadn’t found the right opportunity for a good fuck buddy was all. Sure, propositions came and went over the years. But it was rushed, insincere and resembled her father’s groupie escapades. She’d watched backstage as one fan after another threw themselves at his band members for sex. Long lines out in the hall. She never saw
it,
but
it
became much implied.

From then on she’d sworn two things—one, she’d never marry an adrenaline junkie like Eddie, and two, she’d never become
those
women who jonesed cock with strangers like Birdie.

But why sexquesting this week? Was she becoming what she’d always despised? She frustrated even herself with her actions. Why did Massimo refuse? He expressed interest in devouring her sex at dinner last night. He made advances in his racecar. Then again, on the plane he’d tried over and over again to bed her.
He
initiated the damn kiss—the kiss that changed everything. But the minute he realized she’d never played without strings, he’d wanted nothing to do with her. Were women who came and went in the night his exclusive taste?

Then there stood this three hundred million dollar offering sitting as if it were an elephant in the room. A large mammal with beady eyes, long tusks, in varying gray tones. Yes, gray, everything no longer black and white, not anymore. The acquisition, money, designs, sex—it should make anyone go on a blue Xanax bender to alleviate the stress. A pill popper Lex was not, though she started to wonder if she should start.

Unlike Birdie who turned to things illicit, Lex’s vice remained another white powder, one that you didn’t snort or shoot—but ate. Sugar! Willy Wonka style.
I need a “fuck-it bucket” packed with my favorite sugary candy from Dylan’s Candy Bar—Swedish Fish, Sour Watermelon Gummies and Mini Gummy Bears. I can’t take my lame-ass sex life any longer.

“Would you care for a marine collagen mask or a vitamin C treatment applied after the oxygen blast?” The beauty therapist looked down at her as she felt toner mist on her neck.

Lex smiled. She loved this treatment. “Whatever you think is best. I’m going to The Fashion Ball tonight. So let’s do everything.” Visions to how the night would play out danced in her head. She’d meet fellow designers from Paris, London and Tokyo.

“S
ignorina
,” Sophia spoke over her, “we should spray tan your skin today. It’ll give you a bronze sheen. We can airbrush on a six pack, calf muscles and even some extra cleavage.” The technician who’d addressed her patted her arm to encourage her to leave everything to her expertise.

Going beyond a five minute morning makeup application in vain made Lex roll her eyes. But she’d try one more time to seduce the prince. And it would be tonight.

“Sounds perfect. Let’s do it.”
I will have him.

Part Two

When Candy Isn’t Enough

Chapter Eight

Beam Me the Ménage à Trois Up, Scotty

“Prada,” read across the label on the young man’s shirt who greeted Lex at the private entrance to the House of Tittoni’s Milan mansion.

“Fuck me!”
shouted his muscular body in a subliminal tone.

“Why hello there, I’m Lex Easton. Pleasure.”

“
Ciao,
I’m Rocco,” he replied, exuding a statuesque Herculean build. Rocco’s strapping handshake coordinated well with his six foot frame.

Lord almighty
. Lex’s pussy quaked at his touch in a record ten seconds.

Rocco’s physique featured defined biceps, double in size to Lex’s thighs.

Unable to take her eyes off him, she doubted if the pearl-white buttons on his shirt would stay fastened if the fabric were a smidge tighter.

“Massimo didn’t mention a younger brother,” Lex complimented Rocco. Similar to Massimo, he featured a chiseled jaw almost soap opera worthy. Hot! His lips were full, almost swollen and in dire need to kiss, lick, or suck on something—anything.

Despite Rocco’s brawn, Lex confirmed his black lavalicious eyes remained his best asset. Almond shaped with überlong lashes, they’d hypnotize their prey with a stare unlike any other. His eyes spoke, as his muscles did earlier, and said,
“I’m going to bang the pussy juice outta you, Lex Easton!”

Between his eyes and muscles, Rocco, who didn’t speak much English, told Lex a lot. He may not have known it at the time. Nevertheless, her pussy appreciated what he said.

“I manage and run
il Milano
mansion. I am the equivalent to Roberto at Isola di Girasoli’s royal palace. I am not related to His Majesty, but work my entire life for the royal family.
Sì
?”

“Ha, ha, ha,” Lex chuckled. “You don’t mirror Roberto in any way, shape, or form.” She noticed. “You’re hot! And you make no flippin’ apologies about it. Do you? No, you don’t.” Lex surmised Rocco aroused any woman—or any man. She knew Massimo was straight because he was a pig, a smart, dirty, machismo stud. Who
might
have a gold heart but her jury remained hung until further notice.

However, Rocco, this guy—she wasn’t sure. His eyelashes led her to assume he played on her friend Blake’s team. Rocco’s lashes blinked way gay long. He was too pretty.

“I have a friend in Manhattan I might set you up with. You two will hit it off.” This was Lex’s gay test. She didn’t say the “friend” was a man or a woman. He’d either reply,
what’s her name
or
what’s his name
. In Italy it was more appropriate than asking if they were gay. She never assumed as Vive did. And with Pope Benny suppressing Italy’s homosexuals, Lex stepped up to help out.

“
Sì
, what’s their name?”

Damn, he failed my test.
“I have two friends, Vive and Blake. You may take your pick.” She snorted.

“
Grazie.
His Majesty issued a memo you’d be staying this week. I’m here to
fill
your every need.” He glanced her up and down and continued, “Prince Massimo mentioned a
classico beauty
arrived in Milan but he didn’t say stunning,
sì
?”

“Aw. Thank you.” Unable to remember the last time she’d received such a sweet compliment, she reached for her purse to tip him. Then she remembered Roberto scolding her. “Massimo described me as a classic beauty?”

“
Sì,
it was in his staff memo.”

“What else did this note say?” Lex was curious.

“You own a sharp tongue. I do not know what the prince means. Can you hold your tongue out?”

“Ahhhhh.” Lex stuck out her tongue at him. She didn’t have the patience to explain the expression. Not thinking Rocco would understand, she pulled her tongue in her mouth.

Rocco gestured thank you and continued, “The memo also listed—house staff is
not
to challenge
Signorina
Easton.
Signorina
needs her rest.
Signorina
may
not
be nice at sunrise.
Signorina
does not eat
Italiano
food. And
Signorina
rolls her eyes and curses—a lot.”

“Okie dokie. Maybe you should show me my room?”
I knew I should’ve stopped at the classic beauty compliment.

“
Sì
, let me give you a tour. I will show you the first four floors. His Majesty’s quarters remain off limits.” He motioned her through the house.

The seven-story estate felt packed in compared to Girasoli palace. It was also secluded, in contrast to its urban setting, and built floor to ceiling in white marble. The house featured an indoor skating rink, three kitchens, two sports courts, a gift wrapping room, a bowling alley and a storage room with special freezers.

“What’s in these freezers? Meats and cheeses?” Lex asked as they walked into the subzero rooms.

“His Majesty enjoys confectionary treats. Swiss chocolatier, Teuscher. They are in Zurich with a store in Bahnhofstrasse. They FedEx shipments for our Imperial Highness.”

“Shipments of?”

“Prized champagne chocolate truffles,” Rocco shared and opened a freezer to show her. “They arrive each Friday.”

“My respect for the prince grows more and more by the minute.”
Yummerific for my fuck-it bucket
. She’d eyed the freezer waiting for Rocco to turn his back to her. The nanosecond he distanced himself she swung the freezer door open and popped one
Hm,
two
Hmm,
three
Hmmm
in her mouth. She sucked. She swallowed. If she didn’t get Massimo today she might as well enjoy Teuscher’s.

Upstairs the opulent hallways were lined in exquisite Renaissance paintings with works by Paolo Uccello and Domenico Ghirlandaio.

Rocco’s face lit up when Lex expressed an interest in the paintings.

“Are these paintings real or copies?”

“House of Tittoni’s
Milano
mansion, inside and out, is an original—including the man who owns it.” He gave Lex a smirk then stepped forward and said, “
Scusi
, I have other matters to attend to.” Rocco shook her hand. “You know where your sleeping quarters are. The limo will be downstairs waiting for you in
uno
hour.
Arrivederci
.”

Lex stood and admired a tempera panel painting featuring nine figures—Mercury parting the clouds for spring to enter, Cupid causing sexual havoc, a deflowered Venus surrounded by the Three Graces, Flora, flower and blossom goddess and Chloris, her former innocent self with Zephyr, the wind deity taking her virginity.

Primavera,
also known as
Allegory of Spring
by Sandro Botticelli, she knew its meaning—neoplatonic love, possessed by Eros. A coveted painting stared her right in the face, in Massimo’s home, down the hall from
his
bedroom suite.

She turned to go down the hall to her room when Lex heard—

“Jemmy! Jam, Jam, Jemma.” A male voiced erupted from the winding guest room corridor.

“
Sì,
my darling.
Sì
,” a female voice responded.

WTF?

Passing a door left ajar she heard what sounded to be Luigi with Jemma.

Rocco had mentioned the couple arrived earlier on another jet to get ready for tonight.

She’d close the door and let them have their sensual moment in private. As she held on to the crystal doorknob, she didn’t possess any self restraint. She wanted to peek, if only for a second.

Pushing open the heavy oak door, she looked into the room. The walls were illuminated by lit candles. The opulent velvet medallion burgundy curtains were drawn, blocking the sun from shining in. A dark foyer, separating the entrance from the bedroom where the noises originated, remained between them. Lex tiptoed farther in and stopped at the second entrance. She remained unseen.

“Suck
che
dick. Yeah. Suck it, Jemma,” Luigi ordered as he rested naked on a black leather loveseat. His elongated muscular torso camouflaged by flaxen hair left a fuzzy trail down his navel to his pubes.

Oh my—cockalicious.
Lex’s clit prickled with anticipation. This scene by far blew the cock riding, yacht floating woman who greeted her at the Isola di Girasoli out of the water.

“My darling, your cock tastes so good, yeah, my darling, mmm.” On her knees, Jemma gave him a blow job. Lex recognized her by her sable waist-length tresses and red nails. She glided up and down his brimming shaft. Jemma made sucking and slurping sounds. As she increased, her mouth’s noises began growing louder. Sounds started to pop. She was sucking him off as if her life depended on it. She was possessed. Head spinning and hair flying, she rotated her neck clockwise then counterclockwise. Jemma pulled her head back and ran her tongue up his shaft, lubing his cock. It appeared as a wet spear lubed to fuck the universe.

Jesus, girl.
Lex stepped in closer, going to the corner wall. They didn’t see her from where they faced. But she saw them.

Lex’s scalp itched. She’d never watched someone have sex before—in person.

“Look how hard you made my dick, Jemma,” Luigi said huskily, his cock swelling by the second. Eyes closed in what Lex concluded as pure rapture, Luigi arched his feet to Jemma’s actions. He palmed her head as a basketball. “Shit, Jemmy, uh damn, baby girl, Ohh fuck, goddamn, suck it, suck, suck it. You're going to make me come.”

Lex adored Jemma’s ability to take Luigi in her mouth. Her head bobbed back and forth, worshipping her lover.

“You want me to fuck you, Jem Jem?” Lugi asked, holding Jemma’s head back.

“
Sì
, darling.”

“Beg for my cock, baby, I wanna hear you beg for it.”

“Fuck me, my darling.”

“You want me to split you wide.”

Jemma nodded in agreement.

“Come up and ride me, baby.” Luigi leaned down. His palm slipped between her legs embracing her clit. “You gonna spread for me?”

“My darling, we do whatever Daddy wants.” Jemma rose and placed herself in her master’s lap. “You gonna spread your pussy for me? Bag my cock, Jemmy,” He reached for a condom from a nearby table.

“I haven’t been fucked since yesterday,
sì
? I want you to fuuuuuuk me.” Jemma tore the wrapper and rolled the rubber over his shaft. Jemma moaned as she held herself up by his shoulder. “Ohh yeah, let me get on your cock, Daddy.” She inched his cock inside her, straddling him. “Hello handsome.” She began to ride him like something from the wild.

His nut sac bounced with a violent spring as she picked up speed.

Lex saw his cock swelling with each stride as it gunned from Jemma’s pussy.

Masi.
Starved for sex, Lex swallowed whatever moisture was in her mouth and imagined Massimo buried inside her—shattering her pussy. The idea intoxicated her.

“Damn your fucking cunt, hot.” Luigi pounded. A feeding frenzy over Jemma’s breasts ensued as Luigi sat upright and grabbed on to her distended nipples. He sucked one then shouted, “
Ti amo!
”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Stepping in even farther, Lex lolled her body against the wall. She wished Massimo was with her. Massimo could do whatever he desired.

I’ll rub.
Lex rubbed herself hard over her clothing.
I want to touch myself.
She looked around to make sure she was unnoticed. She ducked into the corner away from their sight but still very much able to see. Lex pulled her dress up and yanked her thong down, touching her pussy. Rubbing her fingers over her cunt, her panties already wet. Thoughts about being in Massimo’s arms earlier on the sofa filled her mind. Starved and crazy for his cock, she desired to have Massimo inside her. His words replayed in her mind,
“I want to watch you touch yourself. Touch yourself for me, bella.”

Yes, yes, Masi.
Without a second thought, she’d licked her ring and middle fingers and slipped her hands under her ivory satin and played with herself as Massimo instructed. She concentrated on watching Luigi as he continued to thrust inside Jemma.

The attentiveness he displayed for her amplified his admiration for his lover. He held her face, and he kissed her with a sweet gesture, holding on to her with no obvious desire to let her go.

I want this. Fuck me, I want Massimo.

“Let’s go, Luigi, my darling.” Riding up fast on his cock, Jemma went back down on Luigi’s dick teasing him.

Thap, thap, thap.

A blatant slapping sound from flesh upon flesh lubricated by their perspiration echoed in the room—harmony they’d reached their groove.

“Luigi gimme, darling gimme. Get up in my pussy,” Jemma responded with a scream, shaking Lex to her core. “Fill me up, come on.”

Lex felt as if she was watching a movie, unsure what was to come next but thrilled to find out. And nervous she’d get caught looking. If they stood up, she’d be busted.

I want to be Jemma.
Lex continued to rub her clit, replaying Massimo’s voice in her head. “
Wet suede is how your cunt will feel hugging my cock—when I am inside you.”
She wondered if she’d scream as Jemma did if Massimo’s cock filled her.