Royally Romanced (5 page)

“Let’s not waste any of our precious time. Shall we go to the costume exhibit?”

“Absolutely. Then we can see whatever you’d like,” she offered.

He offered her his arm again, and they followed the signs to the gallery. “I’ve already seen most of the regular collection, so your special exhibit sounds just fine.”

“How about the arms and armor collection? Men always like that.”

He sniffed disdainfully. “We have a much better collection at home.”

“What? Better than the museum?”

“I’m just kidding.” He nudged her playfully and she snorted.

“But you do have some arms and armor at your house.”

“At the local museum,” he clarified. “But the armor used to be at my house.”

“You got tired of peasants wandering through looking at it?”

“If all peasants were as lovely as you, I would have no problem with that.” She raised her eyebrows. “I’m only joking, Renata. I’m priviledged to serve my people, not the other way around.”

“All right, then.” She let him off the hook. For a prince, he wasn’t very arrogant. Not that she knew very many. Or any.

He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pointed to the gallery entrance. “Here we are.”

Renata gave a gasp as she and Giorgio entered the darkened, dramatically lit hall. “Now this is what I call a real art exhibit.” Strategically placed spotlights illuminated mannequins in elegant 1890’s ballgowns.

“Very elegant,” Giorgio agreed. “And little danger of tetanus.”

Renata went as close to the mannequins as she could without getting tossed out of the museum and peered at the fine details of the gowns. They were satin, velvet and silk. The silhouette was a tight bodice flowing out to a small bustle and then fabric draping down to the floor in a small train. The embroidery was elaborately done with crystals, pearls and jet accents. Butterflies and flowers, swirls and loops. “Maybe I haven’t been taking enough advantage of Aunt Barbara’s skills. She could do this in her sleep.”

“The lady who is going to embroider Stefania and Dieter’s initials on her, um, underskirt?”

Renata laughed. Typical brother. “That’s her. She’ll be disappointed she missed you.” The overwhelming under-statement of the century. A real live prince and princess came to out-of-the-way Peacock Designs and Aunt Barbara was sitting in the gastroenterologist’s waiting room. She’d at least get to meet Stefania when she came for her fittings.

The next rooms had sports clothing, a revolutionary idea in the late nineteenth century. Although playing tennis in a floor-length dress or riding a bicycle in a wool skirt and suitjacket didn’t appeal to Renata, she saw the historical importance of the broadening of women’s activities.

Ah, more ball gowns, but this time they were a flowing, turn-of-the-century style with Asian-influenced fasteners and draping tunic silhouettes. Another set of new ideas for her.

“Art Nouveau, one of my favourite eras.” Giorgio gazed at the Tiffany stained-glass windows and classic Italian opera posters.

“Oh, my God, me, too! I just love Gustav Klimt’s painting with the man and woman embracing surrounded by all that gold and jewel tones.”

“The Kiss.”
His gaze dropped to her lips.

She licked her mouth, suddenly dry. “Yes, it’s called
The Kiss
.”

“Have you been to Vienna to see it?” he asked.

She laughed and the spell was broken—at least temporarily. “No, I haven’t made it to Vienna yet.” Or anywhere east of the Atlantic Ocean.

“You should go.”

With what money? She caught his hand and pulled him along. He was a sweet guy, but there was a world of difference—and money—between them. “Maybe someday. Oh, look at the suffragettes’ uniforms. Very masculine.”

Giorgio stood patiently next to her, not fidgeting a bit or checking his phone as she examined the clothing in the remaining rooms. She wished she could take photos, but the light was too low to get any of the details. They exited into a gift shop with several reproduction jewelry items and books on art and fashion of the time period covered.

Giorgio picked up the hardcover, full-color photo book that accompanied the exhibit. “Would you allow me to buy you a small gift, a souvenir of our afternoon together?”

“That book’s not exactly small.” But she was dying to get her hands on it, especially to look at the beading and embroidery in close detail.

“I’ll carry it for you if it’s too heavy.” His green eyes twinkled.

She paused for a second and then decided her self-reliance could take a backseat to graciousness for once. “That would be lovely. Thank you.”

Giorgio seemed surprised, as if he’d expected her to tussle with him over it. “You’re welcome.” He hastened to the cash register to pay for it before she changed her mind, probably.

Renata busied herself by examining the jewelry. It was a bit elaborate for her tastes, with filigree and crystals and jet beads galore. Aunt Barbara would love it.

“Do you see anything you like here?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I was just thinking my aunt would like some of this. She likes more…elaborate things than I do.”

He eyed her up and down. “A woman who looks like a forties’ movie star doesn’t think that counts as elaborate?”

“I suppose silk stockings with seams up the back can’t be considered plain.”

“Not at all.” His voice sounded husky for a second. “But authentic, right?”

“Absolutely.” Renata had to clear her own throat. “Maybe I’ll bring Aunt Barbara to see the exhibit. I’ve encouraged her to branch out a bit with some designs of her own.”

“With you as her mentor, I’m sure it would be a success.”

“That’s kind of you.”

Giorgio shrugged. “Only the truth. You’re a self-made woman, whereas I’m the royal caretaker, making sure everything stays intact for the next generation.” He sounded a bit dejected.

“But that’s important, too. You have thousands of families depending on you to make sure everything runs smoothly, that parents can give their children the opportunities to succeed that they might not have had themselves.”

He grinned. “You’ve very smart, you know that?”

“Of course. And now, if you’ll call for that slick car of yours we can tour around for a bit before you meet your sister for dinner.”

He immediately texted his driver who showed up in an impossibly short period of time. Giorgio helped her into the limo. “Drive downtown, Paolo.”

Paolo nodded and they slid away from the curb. Renata settled back into the luxurious seats. She didn’t know where the royal ride was going, but she was sure it would be memorable.

“T
HANK YOU FOR DINNER
, Renata.” Giorgio relaxed back into the limo seat. “I have to admit I am not used to ladies paying for me.”

“Don’t be silly, it was just a chili dog,” she chided him. She hadn’t been in a limo since one of her brothers’ weddings, and this was much nicer than being stuffed into the back with several giddy bridesmaids in poufy dresses. “I’ll add it onto the alterations bill for your sister’s dress if you insist.”

He leaned toward her. “I do.”

Stefania had called to cancel dinner since she had a term paper due soon and her fiancé was fogged in at Heathrow airport anyway.

Giorgio had called his driver to come get them and they had cruised the city as best as they could with a giant limo. But it was getting late, and Renata had reluctantly told Giorgio to head for Brooklyn.

“Tell me when you are free again.” Giorgio twined his fingers between hers.

“Free for what?”

“Free to see me again. I’ll take you to the Plaza for dinner.”

She rested her head on his shoulder. “Only if they serve chili dogs.”

“I’ll make sure they do.” He ran the back of his hand along her cheek. “I want to see you again.”

Oh, so did she. “Would you like to see my neighborhood?”

“What?” He looked out the window at the identical row houses stretching as far as they could see.

“Tell your driver to cruise around in this area for a little while. I’ll give you a private tour.” She was practically crawling out of her skin with lust and finally gave in.

He pressed an intercom button and gave instructions in Italian. “There. He will drive around until I tell him to stop. He cannot see or hear anything in the back so you can feel free to say whatever you want.” He pressed a button that turned on hidden dim lighting. “I want to see you while we talk. You are the sexiest woman I have ever met.”

She snorted.

“What?” He furrowed his black brows. “You do not think you are sexy?”

“Oh, I know I am.” And that had been hard-won self-knowledge. “But I’m no six-foot, one-hundred-pound supermodel.”

“Thank God,” he said fervently. “I’m not a man who likes women with more muscle than me.” He caressed her cheek. “A real man wants a real woman, soft and smooth.” He trailed his hand down her neck to her shoulder. “Round and ripe, like a juicy peach plucked from the tree.”

Renata was ready to be plucked, backseat of the car or not. Her nipples were as hard as peach pits inches from where his fingers stroked the base of her neck and her “fruit juices” were definitely ready for sampling. “And you are a real man, Giorgio,” she purred.

“You know I am, Renata.”

“Tell me what you think of me—all real, by the way.” She sat back and slowly unbuttoned her blouse, her eyes never leaving his. He swallowed hard as her black lace bra appeared.

“Bella, che bella.”
Still he hesitated, so she shrugged the blouse off her shoulders.

“All for you, Giorgio.” She unfastened her French twist and shook her red hair loose like a pinup girl. “I’ve been waiting all day for your touch. Don’t make me wait anymore. You don’t want to get a reputation for a tease, do you?”

He groaned, his cock stretching his Italian wool pants in a way the designers never intended. She crawled over to him and cupped his erection. His green eyes practically rolled back into his head. He was huge even through the cloth, his plump head firm and round under her fingers. The thought of all that Italian goodness inside her made her shiver. She started to unzip him.

The next second she was flat on her back on the seat, her bra gone and her breasts bare. His mouth was firmly fastened to one nipple, his fingers playing with the other. He sucked on her as if he were starving for her, and she was starving for him. She arched her back, pushing her breast up for his easier access.

He switched to the other breast, leaving her nipple moist and swollen in the cool air. She shivered and hardened even further.

So did he, his cock pressing against her inner thigh. She wiggled under him and he lifted his glossy black head. “You make me crazy.”

“Then go crazy with me.”

“Not yet.” He slid his hand up her thigh and stopped. “Ah,
Dio mio,
you are wearing
giarretterre
—I do not know the word in English.”

“Garters,” she supplied. “I’m glad you like them.”

“I love them,” he said hoarsely. He caressed the slice of thigh between her panties and stockings and cupped her bare ass. “A thong? You are going to set me off like a rocket and I have not even seen you yet.”

He shimmied her skirt up around her waist and stared down at her in rapture. “Look at you. So beautiful.”

Renata looked down at herself. Her lower half could be described charitably as curvy and fat by several skinny bitches she’d run into over the years.

He kissed her soft belly and she jumped at the ticklish sensation. He grinned up at her. “You give up another secret to me, Renata. You are ticklish.”

“You just startled me,” she informed him loftily and jumped a second time when he darted his tongue into her navel.

“And again?” He made circular tracks with his tongue, widening out from her belly button and down to the tiny black ribbon at the top of her thong.

“Well, yes.”

As he nuzzled the ribbon, his breath was hot on her belly. He hooked the front panel of her thong and pulled it free. “Are you ticklish here?” He slid his finger between her folds and zoomed in on her clit.

Her back bowed as he lazily circled that greedy bit of flesh and all she could do was groan.

“If you don’t like it, I can stop.”

Renata smiled at his blather and her eyes rolled back in her head as he lowered his mouth to her thong. With his tongue he caressed her clit, soft and wet at first and then harder as he pressed her with its tip. Her legs fell apart and she gave herself up to his tongue. His big hands had gone right where he wanted, cupping and molding her ass with fervor and appreciation.

Then her mind shut off and her body took over. Or Giorgio took over her body. His five o’clock shadow rasped her inner thighs but his lips were gentle as he drew her clit into his mouth and sucked.

Her fingernails left marks in the soft leather upholstery. Anticipation raced up her belly into her breasts, tightening her nipples even further. She rolled them between her fingers, earning a groan of approval from Giorgio as he raised his head to watch her.

Her brazenness inspired him and he dived back down—this time slipping a finger inside her as he licked her. She immediately clamped down around him. He slid in and out, adding a second finger and flicking her clit hard with his tongue.

Renata propped herself up on her elbows to get a better look at Giorgio. Seeing him even added to her arousal. She was dying, panting, sweating—and loved it. Spread open wide in the backseat of a limo with a man she’d met less than twelve hours earlier going to town on her, his face slick with her juices and his Egyptian cotton shirt damp with sweat.

He pulled his fingers out and stuck his tongue inside her. She collapsed back on the seat, her insides pulsing around his tongue in some dimly remembered but familiar feeling. “Oh, yes, Giorgio. Oh, just like that…” She slapped her hand over her mouth as her moans increased in volume.

He held her tight despite her body’s frantic movements, knowing she was very close. He moved his mouth back to her clit and that was enough for her. Pleasure from his mouth shot all through her body, her head whipping back and forth as she fought back a scream of pure delight.