Bellissima (7 page)

Chapter Seven

The days had crept by, each minute like an hour, each hour passing with the slowness of a year.

Somehow Jane had made it through, comporting herself with enough of her usual aplomb that no one questioned her or even seemed to notice she was, in fact, totally and irrevocably changed.

Sergio had awoken in her such a torment of desire she hardly knew what to do with herself, hardly remembered who she was supposed to be or how to act the part.

Yet, as she forced herself not to hurry but to walk at her usual pace toward her sitting room, she knew her ability to dissemble was what had allowed her to carry on. Inside she quaked with indescribable hunger, her craving for Sergio a constant thrum between her legs and heat deep in her belly. Any moment not taken up with a chore was filled with the delicious memories of the dance master’s tongue on her slit, his cock in her mouth. At night, as the household lay slumbering around her, she relived every second of their encounter, touched herself until she exploded in ecstasy. Without those nightly releases, she sometimes thought she’d go insane.

And if he denied her today, she still may lose her mind.

She hadn’t gone to the minstrels’ gallery, knowing the sight of him would completely undo her. Already she was so wet for him that her thighs slipped one against the other as she walked. Her padding was wet with perspiration, for as the day progressed and the time they were to meet got closer, waves of heat rushed over her skin until it felt as though she were suffering from a fever.

Finally she was at her door and slipped into the quiet of her sitting room. Even this place, which used to be her little sanctuary, no longer felt the same. How could it, when it had been the scene of such abandoned behavior? Prior to the Friday before, the room had seemed the staid, prim epitome of all a housekeeper of spotless reputation and morals could wish for or aspire to. Now as Jane, with shaking hands, prepared the pot and set the tea table, she thought there wasn’t a bawdy house in all the Empire with an atmosphere as lustful as this tidy little place.

Glancing at the clock, she realized she was, once again, early. She had rushed through her chores, kept everyone on their toes. So much so she had gotten a nod of approval from that old bastard Grimond, who liked to see everyone “step lively”, as he was wont to say.

Looking at the door, at the table already prepared and just awaiting the tea itself, she had a naughty, enticing idea. She hiked her skirts up, reaching behind and under her padding to find the drawstring tying the two legs of her drawers together around her waist. It took some tugging, and a bit of cursing, to coax the garment out from under her padding, but eventually it came free, and she stepped out of it. Going around behind her desk, she opened a drawer and stuffed the garment into it. It would be impossible to put them back on after Sergio left, but somehow she would smuggle them back up to her room at a later date. And she’d have to make sure she didn’t fall down the stairs or any other such thing this evening. What a scandal it would be if the rest of the staff realized she was without undergarments!

The thought made her giggle, even as she once more faced the danger of what she was about. There was a part of her that truly wondered if she had been put under a spell, or was slowly losing her faculties. How could she risk everything she’d worked for, lied and cheated to get, for a man? For a swive, an afternoon fuck?

Then the image of Sergio invaded her head, and it suddenly seemed completely, undeniably worthwhile.

Her little clock struck the quarter, and her heart leapt into her throat. The lesson would be ending, Mrs. Moorecroft rushing her nieces away in case any words not involving the movements of the dance might, perchance, be exchanged. Sergio would exit through the servant’s door and, even now, should be on his way to her.

Jane put her hand over her heart in a vain attempt to quell its racing, heat rushing to her face, a shiver chasing down her spine to lodge between the lips of her cunt.

She should greet him as she always did—give him the chance to tell her, through words or actions, whether today would be like all the days they had spent together before, or like last Friday. Wondering whether he would revert to their prior, cordial relationship, revealing a lack of true interest in her had been the only dark stains marring her thoughts. She had tried to push them aside, but now, as the time of his arrival finally drew close, she struggled with doubt, with the potential pain of his rejection.

Busying herself with the tea, measuring the leaves and pouring the water did little to steady her, and her hands were shaking as she set the pot on its stand and sat in her usual seat. Unable to stop herself, she turned slightly so the door was fully in her line of sight. When the expected knock came, it took her a moment to catch her breath and call out, “Come in.”

Then he was there, striding in, shutting the door behind him, and all the questions, the doubts and fears melted away at the gleam in his eyes, the set of his delectable mouth.

But he didn’t come toward her. Instead he leaned back against the portal, his gaze sweeping her from head to toes and, like a touch, igniting sparks of arousal each place he looked.

“Sweet Jane.” Oh, how those low, velvety words stole her breath, made her ache. “Tell me you’ve missed me as I have missed you.”

“Yes. Oh yes.”

It never occurred to her to lie, to play the coquette. Not when he asked in that demanding way. And she was rewarded by the sound he made, deep in his chest, as though he couldn’t hold it back any more than she had been able to hold back her words.

His eyes closed for a moment, long, thick lashes sweeping his cheeks. How she wanted to kiss his lids, run her fingertip over those lashes, touch him intimately, tenderly, seek out and learn every inch of him. Then his eyes opened, and his gaze locked once more on hers. It had changed, seemed veiled, as though now he hid something from her, when before she would have sworn to the openness of what she saw reflected in his eyes.

“I cannot stay today, Jane.”

Unable to stop her little cry of dismay, she put her fingers over her lips, hoping to seal away any further evidence of the pain he was causing. It was the least she could do for the sake of her pride.

He shook his head, as though negating what he had said, and when he next spoke, his voice was a low, growling rasp.

“If I touch you, I will want more, and more, and I will not stop until you are naked and beneath me, my cock driving into you. I will want to make you scream with pleasure, will do everything I can to make it happen, Jane.”

“Sergio, please…” The words whispered out from between her fingers, and she shuddered, wanting him so badly she thought she could easily die from it. “Stay.”

Yet even as she spoke, as she saw him shake his head again, she understood and knew he spoke the truth. What they had done before was truly just a prelude, satisfying to a point, but not enough to slake the thirst they had for each other. Caught between agonizing fear that he would never return or touch her again and joy that he obviously yearned for her, as she did for him, she could only watch him and wait.

“When is your half-day?”

“Tomorrow.”

A blaze of emotion crossed his face, was reflected in his eyes for an instant before he reined it in. But she had already seen it and rejoiced.

“Meet me.” Again a demand, and, even had she wanted to, Jane wouldn’t have been able to resist. “I have a friend, an artist, with a studio in Wood Street, near Cheapside. He will let me have it for the afternoon if I ask.” Reaching into his pocket, he produced a slip of paper, his eyes never leaving hers. “Shall I ask,
cara mia
?”

“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes.”

Once more he closed his eyes as though collecting himself, and Jane knew she had never seen anything more beautiful than Sergio Fontini wanting her so badly he did not dare even look at her in a moment such as this. When he opened his eyes, he carefully placed the slip of paper on the nearest table before capturing her with the intensity of his gaze again.

“Come to me then.”

Oh, but how was she to wait so long? Already the following day seemed an eternity away, her need so passionate she did not know how she would be able to bear the delay.

“But I want you now.”

She hadn’t meant to say it but couldn’t stop the words from whispering out. Sergio’s eyelids grew heavy, his face taking on a look of such seductive force, Jane’s body trembled.

“Are you wet for me,
cara mia
? Have you been remembering what we did last week, imagining what I would do today?”

Jane nodded, swallowing against the dryness of her throat, pressing her thighs together, seeking surcease from the interminable craving for him.

“And did you touch yourself while you thought of me?”

Heat rushed to her face, and she gasped. But again she nodded, saw a stain of color touch his cheeks too as she did.

“Show me how, sweet Jane.” As she watched, he began to loosen the buttons on his placket. “Turn your chair toward me and open yourself to me. Show me how you touched yourself, and I will show you how I touched myself, as I thought of you night after night.”

She did as he directed, shuffling the chair around and then lifting her skirts. There was a growl of pained approval when he saw she was bare beneath. Sliding her bottom to the edge of the seat, she leaned back and opened her legs, letting him see between, showing him how desperate she had become waiting for him.

“Ahhh.” His sigh seemed to come across the room and touch her nub, so her hips jerked in reaction. “How you tempt me, sweet girl. How I long to throw caution aside and taste you again.” He pulled out his cock, let it rest on one palm, as though offering the taut length to her. “Do you remember how I fucked your mouth?”

“Yes,” she moaned, putting fingers into her slick folds, already on the verge of release, yet wanting to wait, to draw these precious moments out. “I remember. And I remember how your thumb felt in me, rubbing and thrusting.”

As though recreating the moment, she plunged two fingers into her channel, heard the hiss of his breath as he watched. Working them back and forth, she let the sheer carnality of the experience wash over her and sank into an erotic state of heightened bliss, where culmination was not the main goal. Rather it was pleasing and pleasuring him that mattered.

“Do you like watching me, Sergio?”

His fingers fisted around his cock, began a slow slide down toward his balls. “Yes,
cara mia
.” How she loved that velvet whisper, the thickening of his accent, the roll of the words from his lips. “Seeing you finger yourself is more enchanting than I can say. Do it harder.”

So she did, lifting her arse to meet the plunge of her fingers. Hearing the wet slap each time she went as deep as she could, feeling the sharp pulse of pleasure each time the heel of her palm made contact with her nub. And she watched him watch her, the expression on his face as she fucked herself for his delectation more wonderful even than the sensations sparking from between her legs.

“Sweet Jane,” he crooned. “I am so hard for you. Tomorrow I will lick and kiss and suck every inch of your sweet body. And then I will fuck you, over and over.” His voice was rougher, strained, and she knew he was nearing completion. “I have dreamt of being in you, looking down into your beautiful face as you spend, your cunt milking the seed from my body.”

She’d been trying to hold back her release, but the image he conjured, the raw nature of his words and tone pushed her past the point of all restraint. Body shuddering and jerking, eyes tightly closed, she came, his low, pleasure-laden sounds of appreciation echoing in her ears.

Boneless, she sank back, her hand falling away from her cunt, trying to catch her breath. Cracking open her eyes, she saw his hand fisted around the base of his erection, looked up to find him staring at her, his face flushed, tight and ravenous.

“
Ti adoro, cara mia. Ti desidero.
Giorno e notte sogno solo di te.
”

She didn’t need to understand the words. His expression, the timbre of his voice said all she needed to know.

“Let me come to you, Sergio.” The plea was unmistakable, her need to touch him almost painful. “Please.”

“
Non.
” He shook his head, seemed to speak through clenched teeth, his lips barely moving. “Stay where you are.”

“Then spend for me.” She spread her legs as wide as she could, reached down and used her fingers to open the lips of her still-pulsing cunt, saw his hand start to move again. “Imagine you are on your knees between my thighs, fucking me, watching your cock plunge into my body.” Jane shuddered, aroused again, stopping to swallow before she could continue. “That is what I think of when I touch myself in bed, Sergio, when I have to bite my pillow so as not to scream your name as I come. Waiting until tomorrow to know what that is like will be torture to me.”

He had a handkerchief in his other hand, but it seemed as though release caught him by surprise. His eyes widened briefly before snapping shut, and a thick spurt of seed arced from his prick before he caught the rest in the square of white linen. But it was his expression Jane watched with avid excitement, the way his lips drew back to reveal clenched teeth, the strain of ecstasy tightening the sharp planes of his face. She committed it all to memory, knowing this was the image she would bring forth in the future as she masturbated and spent, for it was the most glorious sight she had ever beheld.

Slumped back against the door, he opened his eyes just a slit, surveyed her, as his mouth lost the softness of satiation and firmed into an almost grim line. Her stomach clenched, not with fear but with a strange, tender emotion she refused to even attempt to name.

“
Mi hai stregato.
” It was just a murmur, hot and harsh and more thrilling than even a touch. “You have enchanted me.”

Slowly she dropped her skirt and shook her head. “If there was a spell cast, Sergio, it was by
you
.”