Tuscan Heat (2 page)

“I am so sorry. I hope it’s not a bad memory?”

“It is not. Not really. You are very lovely. Let us not speak of this, not on such a night. I just…need a moment.”

To give him time, I busied myself pouring glasses of the Super Tuscan he’d selected. “Antinori Solaia 2005,” I read from the label. “I’ll have to remember the name, or maybe stick the label in my travel journal.”

“It will not taste as good, even if you can get it,” he said. His voice was husky and his eyes were still damp, but his smile was back. “I think everything sold in the States has a dreadful preservative in it.”

I handed him a glass. “Really?”

“I never get hangovers on Italian wine if I drink it in Italy, but in America?” He pressed a hand to his head in an operatic gesture.

“So I should enjoy Italian things while I’m in Italy and take home the memory.” I took a sip of the wine. I looked straight at him and delicately licked the rich taste from my lips. I figured he needed the distraction.

He made a tiny noise deep in his throat. He set down his glass with almost exaggerated care. Without quite grabbing me, he pulled me against his body and put his lips to mine.

He tasted like the wine, all sunshine and rich flavor. His tongue was hot against mine, and I sighed a little with relief. The first kiss can be so disappointing. Marco wasn’t slobbery or lizardlike, but slow and sweet. It was a marvelous contrast to the last kind of kissing I’d endured.

There was tension in his body, as if he were barely holding back. I liked that too. It was good to be held by a man who couldn’t suppress every little primal thrill.

I shifted against his chest. His pectoral muscles were as firm as his stomach. Below his stomach, I could feel his cock growing hard. He misunderstood my movement and pulled back, so I reached up and pulled his head back down to mine. His hair was even softer and silkier than it looked, and I ran my fingers through it again and again while I explored his mouth.

His hands had been chastely on my back, but my obvious enjoyment of our embrace encouraged him. One of his hands slid to the small of my back, and the other went lower down to cup my ass. He froze for a moment before I felt him smile.

“No panties, Serafina?”

“Told you. Lost my luggage. The only underpants I have to my name are drying over the sink at the Giglio.”

“I thought it was strange that you had no lines under such a thin dress.”

“Were you looking?”

“With legs as long and perfect as yours, my eye couldn’t help but be drawn upward.” Through all this chitchat he was rubbing and squeezing the firm muscles of my ass like he’d been doing it all night. I moved my lips down from his mouth to the column of his throat, nibbling and licking the faint hint of salt from his skin.

He moved his hand to the hem of my dress, where it grazed my thigh. The feel of his hand on my bare leg sent a tremor through my body and into my pussy. For a second I wished I was wearing underwear. I was already wet, and pretty soon he was going to find out.

“You are exactly what I needed tonight.
Bella, bella donna
,” he whispered. His tongue traced the curve of my ear, and when I shivered, he sucked my earlobe into his mouth.

“Bet you say that to all the girls.”

“Bet you are wrong.” He moved his hand up a little, under the hem of the dress. His other hand slid along my rib cage and grazed the side of my breast.

I moaned. “You win.”

He chuckled, and pressed together as we were, I felt it more than I heard it. I took that moment to slide my own hands down his back and onto his ass. As I’d already noticed, he was firmly packed into his Italian-cut trousers. I pulled his groin against mine, and his amusement turned into a moan of his own.

Marco moved his hand all the way under my flimsy dress onto my bare ass, and his other hand went firmly to my breast. The increased sensation made me stagger a little.

Without missing a beat he caught me up in his arms. Against the edge of the patio was a white chaise longue, with a blue-and-white striped awning sheltering the cushion from the elements and curious neighbors. He laid me on it with exquisite care.

“Serafina, you must not think less of me for what I am about to say,” he said in a low voice.

My body burned. I couldn’t think. It had been months since I was this keyed up. “I probably won’t,” I said.

A smile flashed over his face, but then he tried to look serious and mostly succeeded except for a devilish twinkle in his eyes. “I am not usually one to move so quickly. I hope you don’t mind?”

I tried to sit up. “I started it, you crazy man.”

He put his hands on my shoulders and nudged me back down. This time he knelt beside me. His hands moved slowly up and down my arms, with his thumbs grazing my breasts and ribs. His face was still serious. “I know. But I learned in graduate school that American women sometimes take things of the body more seriously, and I would not hurt you for all the wine in Tuscany.”

His delicacy touched me. “Marco, I’m unencumbered and over twenty-one. I’m only here for a week.” My voice cracked on the last word because his hands had moved from my arms to
my thighs, and now he was grazing my pussy. I nearly died from needing to spread my legs, but I wanted this to last a little longer.

“You are like a beautiful vision. So sweet. So joyful. You will keep your two promises,” he murmured. He increased the pressure of his hands until it was more like a massage, going from my calves to the top of my hip bones.

“I am definitely saying yes.”

He placed one hand on my breast and held it there, heavy and hot. I arched my back, pushing into his palm. “An evening of pleasure, then?” he said.

I reached for him without a word. This time our tongues were almost frantic, and the force of the kiss left my lips feeling tender when he moved on to my neck. He tugged at the fabric of my dress.

In the back of my mind, I was a little shocked at my audacity, but the front of my mind made me sit up and pull the dress off. Then I lay back, bare to the starlight and his admiring gaze. I looked at him with my eyelids lowered, in a pose I half remembered from an old French movie. What the hell, I was never going to see him again.

“My God,” he managed to say. “You are even more perfect than I imagined.”

“So do something for me.”

“Anything,
cara mia
.”

“Take your shirt off before I get a sudden attack of modesty.”

He grinned and did as I’d asked. I bit my lip in surprise and pleasure. He was gorgeous. His pectorals were broad and smooth. His abs were taut without having the overly chiseled gymrat look. There was a faint dusting of dark hair against the olive skin. In the fairy light of the city evening, he almost glowed. He knelt back down.

“Lie on top of me,” I commanded. “I want to feel your skin against mine.”

“Your wish is my pleasure, Serafina, but only if you promise me something.” Without waiting for an answer, he put his mouth on one of my nipples and sucked it hard.

I cried out, though I tried to muffle it in deference to the open windows on the other side of the cotton awning. His tongue moved in circles around the hard tip, and the skin of my breasts was tight with desire. He put the palm of his hand on my inner thigh and squeezed my leg. He hummed softly, and the vibration against my nipple made me cry out again.

“Yes…”

“Promise me that I will be able to give you orders…later.” He switched to my other breast, this time flicking my nipple with his hard tongue.

“Yes, I said. Damn you.”

He got up and unbuckled his pants. A horrified expression came over his face. “Oh, no.”

“What?” I almost screamed.

“Please, forgive me, but I did not think in a thousand years that I would, that this could…”

“My purse is over there. You’ll have to check the date though. I’ve had a condom in the zipper pocket for a long time.”

“I love American women,” he said. “You are so prepared.”

“That’s me, upholding the honor of my tribe. Tell me it hasn’t expired.”

He held the little square packet to the light and squinted. I was much more interested in what was straining at his fly, in part because I didn’t have to squint. Then he laughed. “
Tesoro mio
, you are clearly not appreciated enough in your country. This relic expires next month.”

“Gosh, we better use it before it goes bad.” I sat up and snatched the condom out of his hands.

Marco kicked off his boots, unbuttoned his pants and pushed them to the ground. His briefs were a rich blue, but I only saw them for a millisecond before he had them off as well. “We shall certainly put it to good use.”

He stood very close to the lounge. He could have been standing at the other end of the roof and I still would have had the best view a tourist could hope for. His cock was the same golden-olive color as the rest of his body. He was thick, but not too long. I leaned in for a closer look. He wasn’t circumcised, as I expected for an Italian man, but he was so erect that the hard, smooth head of his cock was all the way exposed. Since I was already right there, I gently took him into my mouth.

His whole body shuddered. I’d heard that having foreskin made men more sensitive, and now I was getting some firsthand experience. I pulled back only enough to get my hand around his shaft, and I gave the tender flesh at the tip a slow, spiraling lick.

“Stop. Stop. Please, you must stop,
cara,
or there will be nothing left for you.”

I looked up. His breath came in short pants and his eyes were glazed. I gave him a wink, which he still had the presence of mind to return. As soon as I had the condom rolled on, I lay back down. “So, where were we before you distracted me?” I asked.

“I believe we were…here.” He got on top of me, straddling my hips. I whimpered when his hard cock made contact with my clit, but that little sound turned into a full-throated cry when he put his mouth back on my nipple. I was past caring what the neighbors were hearing. I’d never see them again either.

His hand went to my other breast, and he switched between hand and mouth until I was dizzy. All the while, he kept up a slow grind against my pussy. The sensations built to a glorious high. All I could think of was how good it felt, so good that the whole world had narrowed down to me and this beautiful stranger.

“Marco, please. I want you.”

“Open your eyes, Serafina. Let me see you looking at me.”

I did as he asked. His dark eyes were half closed, his lips reddened and his cheeks flushed. My eyes widened a little to see such a tender expression on his gorgeous face. He smiled and shifted his body. His finger gently stroked my pussy and explored the edge of my opening. I moaned a little.

“You are so wet,” he whispered. “You feel so ready.”

“I am.”

“I want you,
bella donna.
” He positioned his cock at my entrance and raised a perfect eyebrow.

My answer was to lift my hips to try and take him in. For all his sweet talking and apparent control, he was just as eager. He pushed into my willing body with one deep stroke. But he didn’t start thrusting. Instead, he rested his weight on me and put his hands on either side of my face.

“Thank you,
Americana,
” he whispered and kissed me until I was dizzy again. Only then did he start to move. Again he exceeded my expectations. Just as his kiss wasn’t slobbery and overdone, his lovemaking wasn’t the frantic race that I’d come to expect. I had to force myself to take my time and match his speed.

It was worth taking time with him. He watched my face and changed his angle ever so slightly until it was perfect for me. His rhythm was steady and graceful. The pace crept up so imperceptibly that I didn’t notice. Then I realized I was ready to come.

“Marco. Yes. Yes. Now.”

“No. Take your pleasure.”

“I am.”

“Come hard for me. Let your body go. Come and let me feel it.”

I gave up. My hips thrust against his and my fingers gripped his powerful shoulders. I cried out again and again. At last I hit my peak so hard I could make no noise at all.

I was still reeling from the intensity when he smiled and nodded. “And now, I will take my turn.” He picked up his speed, watching me for approval.

My pussy was exquisitely sensitive, every bit of my skin flush with wanting him. My eyes widened when I realized what was happening to me. “Yes. Take your turn. Take it.”

He moved faster than before. If I hadn’t been so wet and open, it might have hurt. As it was, I was about to come a second time.

His eyes were closed, his lips partly open. His back arched, driving his thick cock deeper and deeper with every stroke. He slammed into me one final time, and the force against my clit set off another orgasm to match his.

Marco’s body collapsed over mine. His weight pressed a few more shivers out of my body, and I reveled in the pleasure of it. The slickness of our skin intensified the feeling.

“You are perfect,” he whispered.

I just put my arms around him and held on.

A light breeze began. I felt goose bumps break out along his ribs. “Marco? Either we should flip over so I can keep you warm, or you should put your shirt back on.”

He laughed. The vibrations rumbled through his torso against mine, all the way from chest to groin. “Since we only had the one condom, I think I will put on my shirt.” He kissed my eyelids, cheeks and neck and finished with a slow, lingering kiss that I returned.

Marco pulled away from me without haste. I watched him, curious to see how he would handle the moment. No one looks good with a used condom still on. Would he be embarrassed? Make a show of it?

He winked at me and turned his back. The view improved the longer I stared. He must have fetched a stack of napkins when he carried up our glasses, because he used one to clean himself. Still naked, he brought me one, along with a refill on the wine.

I raised my glass in a silent toast to him. He laughed and reached over for his own drink. We sipped quietly, smiling. When we were done, he turned again, this time to retrieve his own clothes.