The Echoes of Love (31 page)

Then their tempo slowed. They found a beautiful sensual delight in kissing, caressing and tasting each other, setting out on an erotic journey of intimate discovery, and wanting to savour every second without haste. Their hands, their mouths, their tongues stirred, stimulated, soothed, heightening every fragment of awareness that would lead to the final merge of their bodies and their souls into one.

Now, Paolo's hand was cupping her breast, the pad of his thumb moving rhythmically across the hardening tip as he captured her mouth with infinite tenderness and let his tongue coax hers slowly and erotically. His hands on her skin were skilled, sensuous and feathery, almost worshipful. They trembled as he traced the feminine contours of her body. Every stroke, every kiss, every lick revealed his devastating need for her, as he murmured his adoration against her quivering flesh, always returning to her mouth. She existed only where he touched her, making her limbs fill with a melting heat that spread quickly to her whole body.

His warm, sensuous lips left hers now to travel the length of her throat, down over her silk-like skin to the swollen curve of her other breast, taking his time, playing her, taunting her, flicking his tongue to wet the fiery nipple, each stroke an explosion of fire, intensifying the burning ache she felt between her thighs. Her fingers curled deep into his hair as she cried out against the sensations sweeping through her.

Attuned to her need, Paolo laid his other hand on the soft triangle between her legs and began a languid caress. Her wet readiness slicked against the skin of her thighs as his fingers glided further and deeper with each pass, parting the swollen lips that concealed the heart of her desire, finding the moist, tumescent bud and rubbing over it delicately, persuasively with the tip of his finger.

She moved frantically, responding to the powerful urgency of her desire with every fibre of her being, whimpering, giving way to pleasure, revelling in this delicious torture he so expertly afflicted… it had been so long! Paolo knew just how much pressure to use, sometimes stroking and at others applying the firm touch she ached for.

Venetia gasped when his fingers moved away, but before she had time to miss him, his lips had found her core and he was tasting her, drinking her, loving her as she pulsated under his teasing strokes, each gentle drag of his tongue on her hot centre making her tremble harder. He made her peak again and again as he decreased and increased the rhythm in time with her need, each climax greater than the last.

And now she was pleading with him to give her more. ‘I want you inside me, Paolo. Love me, now… please, now,' she panted, her entire body a wriggling mass of febrile nerve endings.

Paolo pulled away and gave her a questioning look. ‘But
cara
…' he whispered, and she could read the pent-up tension and overwhelming desire that burned in his feverish eyes, which had deepened to the most midnight of blues. ‘… Are you sure this is what you want?'

She smiled at him, comprehending his generous sacrifice. ‘Don't hold back,' she breathed, her hands moving to find the pulsating maleness between his thighs, her love for him mirrored in the tenderness of her features. ‘It's been a very long time, but I'm not a virgin. You know how hungry I am for you, Paolo. I want you so much, I want all your love. Now.'

Her words were inflaming, meant to break down the last barriers of inhibition between them; and as Venetia's fingers encircled his hard need, she saw the wonder in Paolo's eyes and he groaned savagely. ‘
Amore mio
,
Venetia, il mio tesoro,
my treasure,' he said in a choked voice, burying his face in her neck and nuzzling at her skin, ‘you're driving me crazy, I want you…'

Venetia could feel the silky virility of his manhood in her palms swell, harden and pulsate even more beneath her erotic ministrations, turning her bones to liquid, and she delighted in pleasuring him as he was pleasuring her.

But Paolo had not finished with her. As he moved on top of her now, his hands were part of her hair, massaging her scalp, tilting her head back as he claimed her mouth again, this time in a savage, bruising kiss, branding her his – the gently flowing river of feeling turning into a raging torrent of passion. The finely curling mat of hair across his chest was rubbing against her over-sensitive skin, exciting her, making her reel, and her body called to his with all the craving for fulfilment of which she had been deprived for so long, and which she knew only he could satisfy.

Paolo responded. Explicit, demanding hands roamed eagerly over the same curves he had worshiped so tenderly earlier, crushing Venetia to him, probing, sucking and nipping at her responsive skin, overwhelming her with his need; and she revelled shamelessly in this manly possessiveness with only one thought in mind, to surrender to it.

Flames licked up inside her; she wanted Paolo within her. He'd taken the edge off her hunger, but she needed more, the real thing: to be his. Her body arched in invitation. She saw his eyes flare as she parted her thighs to receive him, stroking the swollen life force of his flesh, guiding the silken head into her. She was tight, and she sensed his momentary hesitation, his hands gripping at her shoulders, fighting for self-control. His breathing was harsh and his mouth opened slightly as he gazed down at her.

‘Are you all right,
cara
?'

She nodded, her eyes wide, her hands on his back. ‘It's been ten years,' she breathed, trembling with unbearable anticipation… and then he was there, where she most ached for him to be. Paolo thrust into her with one swift movement, piercing her with a sweet pleasure that brought tears of emotion to her eyes. It was like a match to kindling, triggering a blaze, and she cried out in relief as hot pokers consumed her senses, her body and her mind.

She heard Paolo stifle a harsh sound of pleasure in his throat as her body softened, expanded to welcome the powerful strength of him. He stilled for a moment, letting her get used to the feeling of him inside her.

‘There are so many things I cannot put into words that I can only express with my body…
Amore mio
, are you ready for me…?' Paolo muttered huskily, in a raw, halting voice.

‘Yes,' Venetia breathed.

He thrust into her again and stilled as she cried out.

‘… How much I want you…'

She groaned as he did it again, her body wanting more.

‘… How much I love you…'

He then took her with agonisingly slow, deep thrusts, holding her pinned to him with one arm, while caressing her moist, super-sensitive core with his free hand.

As he sunk into her, inch by gentle inch, liquid heat coursed through her, beginning somewhere deep in the pit of her stomach and spreading gradually throughout her body. With every invasive shift of his strong, hard body Paolo was driving her to a greater height, teaching her that there was no end to pleasure, no boundaries either. Her hips writhed and squirmed while his deliberately languid movements inside her electrified her with all-consuming delight. She could hear herself crying out his name again and again, her soul and her body totally receptive to his possession.

Venetia's hands raked up Paolo's back, burying themselves in his thick black hair, and then shifting from his hair to his powerful thighs; she arched towards him, wrapping her legs around him, inviting him deeper, wanting to feel all of him. Her eyes were shut in wanton abandonment. Space and time disappeared as he moved inside her faster and faster, building up the tension. Matching his rhythm, she was swept away as they danced together to a melody of a love that echoed inside her like the returning memory of a dream long forgotten.

And now he was hauling her closer still, tipping her back slightly. Venetia felt him shudder against her as he plunged so deep into her that her breath came in short staccato gasps while she revelled in the sovereignty of his powerful body over and inside hers. The pleasure centres of her brain overloaded with sensation, the crescendo and excitement of it multiplied and peaked, her muscles began to spasm just as she heard Paolo's rumbling, agonising groan. She felt the strain of his body still wildly pulsing within her, and then the hot streams of his climax flooded her, blending with her warmth as they reached the ultimate fusion of their passion. And as the volcano exploded and an all-consuming furnace engulfed her, Venetia soared and swooped, crying out her ecstasy, sobbing and convulsing under the shattering power of the most intense orgasm she'd ever experienced.

They lay entwined and motionless for a long while in the silent room, bathed in the rising sun. ‘A new dawn to our love,' Paolo whispered as he looked into Venetia's eyes. ‘Are you still hesitant,
amore mio?
'

She shook her head, smiling up at him, mind and body deliciously languid and fulfilled.

It had been a curious experience for Venetia, having a man make love to her for the first time after so many years of abstinence. Somehow she was aware that there had been, for both of them, a familiarity in the meeting, as if they had always known each other and been parted for a long time. When Paolo had moved inside her, he'd felt exactly as she'd known he would feel. The echoes of a previous time when she had loved and been loved reverberated through her.
We were meant to come together
, she thought as she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep with a sweet sense of blissful security, safe in the knowledge that after stumbling and falling in the wilderness, they had finally found one another.

Chapter 9

V
enetia moaned and twisted her head to still the tickling sensation on her cheek. The first thing she saw as her heavy lids lifted was Paolo's face inches from hers, smiling down at her tenderly.

‘
Buongiorno, tesoro
,' he whispered, his eyes caressing her features intently. ‘I'm sorry to wake you, but I would prefer if Ernestina didn't see us in this… how to say… um… compromising position. She's a very kind person and an excellent housekeeper, but she's also a big gossip.'

Venetia stretched languorously. ‘It can't be that late already,' she groaned softly, looking up at Paolo through sleepy eyes, her skin gently prickling under his burning gaze. She remembered worrying about the latent morning-after embarrassment as she had drifted off to sleep, wondering if in daylight she would regret the intimacy they had shared, and this honeyed feeling which flooded her now was a surprise.

The shadow of dark stubble over Paolo's jaw enhanced the masculinity of his bronzed face and she stared up at him, drinking in its hard planes and angles and the glitter of desire in his eyes. With his broad shoulders, strong arms, the silky down that furnished his bronze, muscled ribcage, and the taut hardness of his virility that she could see outlined beneath the sheet, he seemed once again like a primitive god seducing her mortal body and soul. Her need for him hit her like a bludgeon and she felt herself turning into a hot pool of longing.

She raised herself on one elbow and let her fingers run over his disfigured chest, lingering lovingly on the deep, discoloured scars. Paolo's body tensed and she felt him shake slightly under the feathery contact of her fingertips. He lifted her hand and brushed the inside of her wrist with his lips, and then sat up, leaning against the pillows.

‘Don't go yet,' she murmured as she inched over, questing after the wonderful effect his touch had on her senses.

Venetia didn't need to ask twice. Paolo breathed in sharply and pulled her towards him, sweeping her up so she was straddling his legs, her nakedness on display for him. She liked the smouldering way he was looking at her, desire and passion etched on every one of his features, and the way his hands ran over her curves with a possessive firmness that made her long for him to dominate her and take her on the spot.

Paolo sensed her urgent arousal and his eyes blazed.

‘What are you doing to me, Venetia?' he murmured against her lips, before hauling her sharply to him, so her head went back almost in supplication and her breasts were touching his chest, the nipples swelling to form taut peaks rubbing against him. He groaned deep in his throat as she pushed her hips further against him, feeling him grow harder in response.

Paolo pressed his lips against her tortured throat, punctuating its length with fierce kisses and bites, cupping the hardened curves of her breasts in his warm hands, kneading and stroking them with his fingers, faster and faster.

Venetia's breathing became sharp and shallow; her head began to whirl, her pupils dilating with her own dark desire, every muscle and nerve-ending tightening in anticipation of his penetration. But Paolo was a master at love making, as he had proved to her all night. His mouth was hot fire on her lips, crushing them, urgent and commanding, submitting her to his own avid need, which only served to increase her excitement.

His hands spread over her body, followed by his tongue, exploring, tasting, encouraged by the high sounds in her throat as each erotic sensation moved tantalisingly, irresistibly, up and down her body. Her senses reeled, demanding more and more, needing to satiate the gnawing hunger for relief that was torturing her, and yet not wanting it to end.

‘Oh, please, don't stop, Paolo, don't stop!' Her speech was almost slurred, her mouth becoming drier, and the need for him to bury himself in her strengthening by the second.

Still, he seemed to have more to give, her ardent response kindling his own arousal, stimulating his own pleasure.

‘Do you know what I'm going to do to you now?' he rasped, his eyes blazing with passion, which made her suppress a moan.

They were mutually driving each other on. His hands still caressed with a feather-light touch her breasts, her stomach and the sensitive skin between her thighs, while his head dipped and gently glided down her body, to the secret core of her femininity, which longed for him so much. Pushing her legs apart so Venetia's arousal was in full view of him, and parting the moist, silken pink petals with his forefinger, he stroked the edges sensuously, making her wait a few seconds before flicking his tongue against the swollen burgeon, licking it, while rubbing it with the tip of his fingers in an unbearably rapid rhythm, urging her pleasure to burst and send rippling shocks through her already strained nerves. The waves were coming, Venetia could feel her loins trembling; soon she would be flooded.

‘Now, Paolo, now my love, now,' she pleaded for release, tears rolling down her cheeks. Paolo's aroused body required no more preliminaries; his velvet hardness found her moist, satin softness with a kind of primitive possession, and together they fused in an all-consuming blaze of fire, total and rapturous that left them completely spent and satiated.

It was almost nine o'clock when Paolo, showered and clad in his navy-blue silk robe, emerged from La Sirena. Venetia, her own white silk dressing gown wrapped around her, accompanied him to the gate. There was still no one to be seen; only Rufus lay stretched asleep on the grass behind the house. A breathless quiet hung about the place, and the scent of flowers and of newly mown grass drifted on the wandering air, sweetening the atmosphere.

Mushrooms gleamed fresh and pearly in the soft, close lawn and the sun, already very warm but with its light misted, shone down upon Miraggio and its surrounding grounds. The trees that dotted this part of the property stood along the bottom of a slope, bunchy and motionless in the still air, thick with leaves. Like trees from an ancient tapestry, they seemed as if nothing would ever change them, as if they would always wear this plumage of full blue-green.

The garden seemed spellbound: not a leaf quivered in the warm air, not a sound came through the veiled sunshine that suffused it all, and no word came from Paolo, who stood by Venetia's side as if he couldn't bear to part with her. He bent his head and took her lips to his. They stood for a few more moments in their caressing warmth until, almost with the effort of someone rousing from a trance, Paolo dragged himself away from her at last, just as the sound of cantering hooves made them both turn abruptly.

A few paces away, a fierce-looking Allegra atop her handsome bay was regarding them steadily, animosity sparkling in her coal-black eyes.

‘
Buongiorno, Allegra
,' Paolo called out to the young woman with an engaging smile, though Venetia noticed that his body had tensed slightly.
‘Vieni qui che ti presento la signorina,
come here so I can introduce you to the
signorina
.'

Ignoring him, Antonio's niece shifted her dark gaze slowly and disdainfully over Paolo's visage, then raising her chin slightly she huffed, turning her mount on itself, and without so much as a glance in Venetia's direction, she cantered off towards the stables.

Venetia's stomach contracted in a sickening knot. Her heart was beating so urgently she was sure that Paolo could hear it thumping against her breast. She met his impassable eyes for just a moment before he gratified her with another smile.

‘Allegra is Antonio's niece. She's a very intelligent and talented young woman, but also extremely wild. She's only twenty-one and Antonio is very severe, so the poor girl does not have much opportunity to get out of Miraggio, apart from the few times when I take her with me to Venice for a couple of days.' Venetia was sure she could sense a slight strain in his voice, despite his open gaze.

Ernestina appeared around the corner carrying Venetia's breakfast, just as the young woman was about to retort that his great friend Umberto had already enlightened her about the relationship that existed between himself and the fiery Amazon, and that he should spare himself the effort of lying to her, and the humiliation of having to listen to his fabrications.

‘Buongiorno, signorina… signore,'
said the cheerful housekeeper as she came level with the couple.

Paolo scowled and shook his head, his expression one of great frustration, as if this was the final straw. He swore under his breath, ‘
Maledizione!
' and then
‘Buongiorno, Ernestina.
'

‘Should I set up a place for you for breakfast,
signore
?' she enquired with deceptive quietness, but Venetia could see in the way she looked at them that the servant was excited and could hardly contain her curiosity.

Paolo's face took on a closed look. ‘No, no thank you, Ernestina, I will have my breakfast in my bedroom as usual.' Turning to Venetia his eyes locked with hers. ‘I'll be in my study in about an hour if you would like to join me, umm…' he paused deliberately and grinned down at her in a way that put her teeth on edge, ‘to continue our conversation and maybe look over the plans.'

He had the gall to grin! Venetia stared at him
.
The fact that he mentioned Venice showed that he remembered she had seen them there together and, guiltily, he was trying to justify the reason why he was taking the caretaker's niece out for lunch in such a prestigious restaurant. If the young woman hadn't appeared suddenly, would he have even bothered to admit that she lived with him at Miraggio? She could pack her bags and leave in a huff, or take what he was subtly offering her, just an affair. Venetia's mind and heart waged war once more, struggling to find a balance between her pride and the burgeoning love she felt growing inside her for this man.

‘I'll be there,' she returned, trying to keep her voice even and strode away, following Ernestina into the house and not looking back at Paolo.

‘I'll have a shower and dress before breakfast,' she told the housekeeper, hoping that she could tidy up the bedroom and bathroom, eradicating the tell-tale evidence of a night of love before the servant went about her daily cleaning.

‘
Va bene, signorina.'

Soaping herself under the shower, Venetia was vividly aware of her body in a way she hadn't been before, even ten years ago. Her breasts were tender to the touch, her nipples still sore from Paolo's love bites, while she could already detect faint bruises on her shoulders, evidence of his passionate hold on them as he had reached his climax that morning. She trembled at the memory of their lovemaking, and wondered at her own wanton abandonment.

But she could not delude herself about her feelings for Paolo that were blossoming fiercely in her with the overnight glory of a tropical flower. Those flashes, intuitive, swift, and primitive, that were transmitted between them disturbed her oddly; it was almost as if, in spite of the tangible world that divided them, her mind could speak directly to his and receive an answer. There was a palpable harmony between them; it was exquisitely sweet and she was sure that Paolo had been aware of it too, since the first time they met.

Still, a grey cloud marred the euphoria she would have felt if Allegra hadn't appeared, and if Paolo hadn't lied to her… but had he lied to her? Venetia tried to argue in his favour. He had only shielded the truth from her at that moment. Did she really expect him to admit there and then that Allegra was his mistress, even though the Italian girl was probably history after their passionate interlude at dawn? That wouldn't be very gentlemanly of him, and Paolo, she had the deep conviction, was a gentleman. How foolish she was to be feeling this way.

When Venetia went back into the living room to have her breakfast, she was surprised to see Ernestina still there. She noticed that the servant was holding on to the discarded bathrobe that Paolo had slipped off her shoulders before carrying her into the bedroom, and which she had not picked up from the floor.

‘I wasn't sure if you wanted me to set up your breakfast on the
terrazza
as usual or if you would prefer to have it indoors. It's going to be a hot day and the sun is already very strong.' The servant's eyes darted quickly from Venetia's lush mane of chestnut hair left loose this morning around her shoulders to her long shapely legs under the summery floral dress.

An unwitting flush of pink rose to Venetia's cheekbones when she realised what Ernestina must be thinking, confirming the housekeeper's surmise of a night spent in the arms of her employer.

‘
Grazie
. I will just have some hot coffee on the
terrazza
.'

‘
Ve lo
porto subito,
I'll bring it to you in just a minute.'

There wasn't a ripple on the pale blue sea and not a cloud in the sky. It was a warm morning, no air stirring, and the heat had the heavy dampness of windless days upon a sea coast. Ernestina was right: the temperature was climbing, the golden orb beating down on the countryside. The horizon was faintly hazy, and the line of hills rising far away behind the estate, almost veiled and dazzling white in the hot sunlight, looked as if they had been cut out of cardboard; the flowers in the garden below stood bravely lifting their cups to the sun. Nature looked as if it was holding its breath.

Ernestina also looked as though she was holding her breath when she came onto the terrace with the cup of coffee. Her dark eyes met Venetia's, containing all sorts of insinuated questions, and finally she decided to speak.

‘If the
signorina
will permit, I would like to say something.'

Venetia lifted her eyebrows, feigning a surprise she did not really feel.

‘The
signorina
must be careful.'

‘I don't understand.'

‘
Bisogna stare attenti a quella piccola strega,
you have to be careful of that little witch.'