Tuscan Heat (15 page)

“Riding up on your blue Harley to take me away to your castle?”

“Something like that.” He put his fingers under my chin, and tilted my face up to meet his. The kiss was sweet and tender. I moaned and opened my mouth wider to his slow, hot tongue. I pressed my body against his, thigh to thigh and chest to chest, and held on as tightly as I could. This was a hell of a dream.

He brought his hands up to the messy bun at the back of my head and pulled out the pins holding it in place. My hair tumbled down in the dark waves that had caused him to mistake me for a local girl on my first night in Florence. He combed his fingers through it without breaking off his kiss.

I rubbed my hands over his broad shoulders and over to the vertebra of his neck. The thin cotton of his shirt was no obstacle to sensation, judging from the way he moved against me. I traced his spine all the way down to the small of his back and slipped my fingers into his waistband. I could feel his cock stirring, and I used my hands to press his hips more snugly against my body.

“Greedy Serafina. We have all night.”

“Might have longer…ah…” He moved his mouth to an inch below my ear. His warm lips against the tender skin sent streaks of warmth through my body. One of his hands slid up my shirt, and he pressed his palm against my breast.

Then he stopped. “Sara, do you mean it? You will stay?”

“I want to find out what happens next. And the truth is, my Marco—”

“Yes?” he asked in a soft voice.

“I have a lot more sightseeing to do.”

“What?”

“Seriously, I’ve barely seen anything. I wanted to climb Giotto’s bell tower, check out Santa Croce, maybe have a look at this statue called ‘
David
.’ It’s supposed to be pretty good, but there’s this crazy line to get in to see it so I’ve only seen the copy so far. Heck, maybe—”

That was the last thing I was able to say before he threw me into the pool.

I came up, spluttering and laughing. “Marco!”

“Polo.”

We stared at each other for a second before exploding into laughter. “I didn’t realize that was a global game.”

“I learned it while splashing in your New River.”

“I should have known.” I looked down at the ruin of my blouse. “You bastard, this was a nice silk shirt.”

“And it looks wonderful, all wet and clinging to your beautiful breasts. Sightseeing, indeed!” He stripped off his clothes and dove into the pool with his usual elegance. He surfaced right in front of me. “I will show you whatever sights you want to see, you terrible woman.”

“How am I terrible?” Buoyant in the water, I put my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist.

“I thought my heart was going to stop ten different times today.” He had both hands on my breasts, sliding over the wet silk again and again. The warmth of his hands contrasted with the cold cloth, and my nipples were tight and trying to push through my bra.

“Any misunderstanding was entirely your fault.”

“Such a woman.”

I splashed him. He shook his head like an astonished sheepdog and splashed me back. That turned into an epic water fight that went on until I held up my hand.

“You win. But you had an advantage. You’re naked. I’m still dressed and wet clothes are heavy. No fair,” I said, clinging to the side of the pool. “You owe me something.”

“You have a point.” He glided over to me and helped me peel everything off. It wasn’t easy, and it was made harder by the distracting way he touched my body every time an inch of fabric gave him access to my skin.

Finally, I was naked. I arched my back and stretched, watching his reaction through half-closed eyes. “Much better.”

“Much,” he agreed. He dropped beneath the water’s surface. I blinked. “Marco? Wha…ooooh.”

His hot tongue pushed at my slit. His thick hair floated around his head like a silky halo. I longed to touch it, but I needed both hands on the edge of the pool to keep from floating away.

He came up for air. “Now we are even.”

“I’ve forgotten whose turn it is.”

“Ours.”

His kiss was still tender, but this time it wasn’t sweet. There was a heavy, probing urgency, and I shared it. I reached down and wrapped my fingers around his shaft. I loved the way he responded to my touch. Our tongues danced faster and faster, and I felt the tension starting in the pit of my stomach. The way he touched me and kissed me was already so familiar, and I already wanted him. I tried to steer him toward my aching pussy.

“Please, Marco,” I whispered.

“I want you too, but not in the pool.” He paused. “Are you sure we—”

It was always “we” with this guy, never “you.” I loved that. “Pill. I’ll explain later.”

“I have just remembered it is my turn.” He scooped me up.

At the tone of his voice, my nipples crinkled up so hard that my breasts ached. “What’re you planning?”

He set me down on the flagstones and reached for one of those delightful fluffy towels. His erection stood out from his damp curls. A tiny gush of wetness came between my legs, unrelated to the water dripping off my body.

Marco started with my face. He stroked the terry cloth over my skin, and whispered, “Oh, I am planning many things. I should like to tie you to the bed, for one thing. And melt an ice cube.”

“Melt an ice cube?”

“Yes. By running it over your body.” He matched the movement of the towel to his words. “First your neck, until there is a drop of water in the hollow of your throat. Then over your shoulders and to your breasts. Over your nipples until they are hard and down your belly. Across your sweet thighs and finally to your pussy. If there is any ice left, it will surely boil away.”

“Oh, God.”

He went around behind me to dry my back. He sighed with contentment. “I love looking at your ass. Have you ever been spanked?”

“No.”

“Would you like to try it?”

My pussy clenched. “I don’t know.”

“You are such a liar, Serafina. I saw the way your body moved just now. I think I would like to spank your lovely bottom until your skin was warm and pink.”

“Mmm.”

“You seemed to enjoy my finger two nights ago. I think we can explore many new things together.” He ran his finger between my ass cheeks and chuckled when I cried out.

I looked over my shoulder. His wet hair glistened in the setting sun, and for all his glib talk, there was a faint sheen of sweat on his handsome face. “Marco?”

“Yes?”

“That’s all for later. Right now I’m about to come, and I want you.”

He groaned and surged to his feet. “
Amore mio,
I have never known a woman like you, a woman who desired me as much as I felt desire.”

I reached up, rubbing my body against his, and kissed him. “Believe it,” I whispered.

He led me to the wide, flat cushions of his outdoor seating. “I know what I want tonight,” he said.

“Yes.”

He grinned. “But I have not told you what it is.”

“Yes.”

“
Tesoro mio
. Lie back,” he said. I obeyed. “I am going to make simple love to you so you will know how I feel.”

“I’ve got some idea.”

“Hush, you.”

He pulled my legs until my feet were flat on the ground. I noticed the warmth the stone held after spending the day in the sun and wriggled my toes. Over his shoulder, the sky was a deep, twilight blue with streaks of color rising through it. That was the last really clear thought I had for awhile.

His chin had the slight grit a man gets toward the end of the day, and the abrasion contrasted with the softness of his lips on my breasts and belly. His damp hair was sleek beneath my fingers. He kissed each one of my ribs and licked the delicate skin on the undersides of my breasts. His hot breath on my nipples reminded me how close I’d been to coming multiple times in the last half hour. I put my hands on his shoulders to feel his powerful muscles bunching and shifting. When he nibbled the hard tip of my breast, my nails dug in.

He inhaled sharply. “Mmm.”

“Sorry.”

“Do not be sorry. Just try not to draw blood.”

I started to make a joke, but his tongue circling and flicking my nipple pulled me back into the moment. When I whimpered and shifted under his tender assault, he switched to the other side.

“Yeah. That’s good. Please.”

“Please, what?”

“Please, I’m ready.”

“Not yet.”

He worked his way back down my torso with gentle, biting lips. He stopped long enough to breathe warm air over my pussy, his lips hovering so close that I could swear I felt his touch. Instead he continued down my thighs, down my calves and all the way down to my feet. He kissed each toe and pushed his tongue in between each one.

The shocking intimacy of it added to the tension in my groin. I moved my hips without thinking.

He chuckled. “Oh, now you are more ready.”

“Very ready.”

“No, not yet.” He grabbed a pillow and knelt on it. He moved my knees a little farther apart and sighed. “Serafina, you have a marvelous pussy. So beautiful. I could look at this richness you offer to me all night.”

“Just look?”

My plaintive tone got a laugh from him, the rich, warm laugh I’d fallen for almost as soon as I’d arrived in Florence. “No. Not just look.”

Marco leaned in slowly, inch by inch, until once again he hovered over my most sensitive areas. He blew a stream of air over curls, sending shivers through my body. As soon as the goose bumps rose over my skin, he thrust his tongue into my folds.

I tried to hold back, but I was already on the edge. I moaned and cried, and tried to rise to meet his tongue. He used his fingers to spread me wide and flicked his tongue against my swollen clit. I felt like I was rising into the air higher and higher, until I was so close that I begged him with my inarticulate cries.

Wetness flooded my pussy. That told him more than the words I couldn’t form. “Now you are ready,
mia adorata
, Serafina
mia
.” He rose up, still on his knees, but the height of the sectional was low enough for him to enter me. He plunged in all at once, both of us shouting with pleasure. For the first time since we met, no one could possibly overhear.

He pulled back and sunk back in. He filled me completely.

“Yes, that’s it, I’m ready.” I reached for him, wanting his weight on me as it had been on our first night together.

He put his hand on my chest. “No, please. I wish to see you.” He rocked back and forth, driving into my body in perfect time with what I needed. “To see you and know that you are mine.”

“I am.”

“Yes. Tell me.”

“I’m yours. You’re mine.”

“Yes.” His hands were on my hips to keep me in place.

“Feels good. So close, Marco.”

“I want you to feel good for always.”

He moved faster and I rose to meet him. Our bodies were perfectly matched. The world narrowed down to the two of us and the splendor of the sunset.

“So close…”

“Touch yourself, Sara. Put your hand on your clit, press hard.”

It was the final thing I needed. His hands, his cock, my fingers, they all melded into a powerful rushing wave and finally I came.

He was right behind me. As I finished, his face changed and his mouth opened with his own cry of release. He looked like an angel filled with a fierce joy. His whole body was still except for the quiver in his balls, pressed against me. Then he slumped forward, completely spent. At last all his weight was on top of me, and the pressure made me feel safe and secure.

We lay there for a few minutes, letting our hearts stop pounding and our breathing return to normal. The sun was almost gone, and the first star twinkled into the Tuscan sky.

He chuckled. “
Io con te,
” he sang.

Although his voice was hushed, the last line of the love ballad still held a bit of triumph. I finally understood. “Yes. I’m with you too.”

“Truly?”

“Yes.”

Marco pushed himself up onto his elbows and looked at me. “I must ask. There must be no chance of misunderstanding. Sara Wright, will you say yes one more time and tell me that you will be my bride?”

I didn’t hesitate. Marrying Marco suddenly seemed like the most natural, obvious thing in the world. I put my hands up and touched his face. “Yes.”

Marco gave me his Renaissance smile and kissed my forehead. That was all, and that was enough.

After a moment he rolled over and pulled us both to a half-seated position. We were within his arm’s reach of the end table, where our abandoned wineglasses still sat. He handed me one and took the other.

“Do not waste this wine. It is a very special vintage. So. Let us have a toast, yes? To us, to the future, and…”

“To fairy-tale beginnings,” I finished and clinked my glass with his.

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