He stripped off and joined me, telling me about the steam room and how he wanted to get one built at City Towers.
“Actually, I might get a private one built out on the balcony. Making love to you in a steam-filled room is definitely on my list of things to do, and soon.”
I laughed. “Sounds hot!”
“You’re punny,” he said cleverly.
I smacked his chest lightly. “Come on, we’ve got so much to see today.”
The hotel was situated in the middle of Rome’s high-end shopping district, but as tempting as shopping in Rome sounded at that moment, I was keen to see the Vatican City and the Colosseum.
We finished our shower and dressed warmly, although, it was not bitter cold, and surprisingly once the sun came out, it was a beautiful fresh day. A limousine was waiting at the front of the hotel to take us the short distance across the Tiber River to the Vatican City. I was beyond excited at the prospect of seeing famous places and landmarks up close and in person, giving me the ability to decide for myself as to their brilliance and stature.
As the limousine approached, I spotted the top of St. Peter’s Basilica, and tingles of exhilaration prickled all over me. When the limousine finally stopped, I wrenched the door open and let myself out, breaking protocol and surprising the driver.
“Alexis,” Bryce chuckled, “you might want to wait for me.”
“You snooze, you lose,” I called back with a smile as I headed for St. Peter’s Square.
The sound of the limo door shutting came quickly, and his footsteps gaining on me followed. I squealed when I felt his arms scoop me up. “I’ll never let you get away.”
I placed my hands on his shoulders as he helped slide me back onto my feet. “I’ll never want to,” I whispered to his lips. “Now let me go. We have sightseeing to do.”
Walking around a place so rich with history, art and religion was not only a wonderful experience, it was made even more wonderful by being able to share that experience with Bryce. We held hands as we strolled through the Apostolic Palace and Sistine Chapel, getting a sore neck from the long endured craning to really appreciate Michelangelo’s painted masterpiece.
After a quick lunch at a café and an espresso to keep me awake for days, we headed to the Colosseum. As we approached the ancient ruin, I couldn’t help but wonder what it would’ve looked like in its prime. Of course I’d seen pictures and movies depicting it standing vibrant and full of spectators to a brutal battle of gladiators, but to see it in the flesh in all its glory would’ve been amazing. I was surprised at how much of the amphitheatre had collapsed and it saddened me. Unfortunately, preventing destruction by natural forces was impossible.
***
We arrived back at our suite in the late afternoon.
“Are you feeling lucky today?” I asked Bryce as I slumped on the bed.
“What?” he shot out, as if I’d sprung him doing something suspect.
I lifted my upper body from the bed, propping myself up on my elbows. “Maybe you’re not feeling so lucky then.”
“Sorry, I was just thinking about something,” he said dismissively. “Am I feeling lucky? I hope so. You have no idea how lucky I hope to feel, why?”
“Because...I was going to let you rub my feet. They are fucked.”
He walked toward the bed, removing his shoes in the process. “It must be my lucky day then.”
He had a grin so wide it made me scoff and roll my eyes. “Whatever floats your boat, Mr. Clark.”
He took hold of my foot, the one I broke, and gently removed my shoe. I watched him delicately trace his fingertips over my scar. “How does it feel?”
I lowered myself back down to the mattress with a thud. “Good, although I gave it a good test today.”
“Well, we won’t be walking tonight.”
“Tonight?” I queried, feeling a little too exhausted for anything.
“Yes, I have a special reservation.”
“Where? What are we having?”
“Italian.”
I playfully kicked him with my other foot. “Derrr.”
***
I was pleasantly surprised when we stepped out of the hotel to find a scooter instead of the limousine. Bryce handed me my helmet and put his on—the one I bought him for Christmas.
“Scooter? Really?” I asked, astonished and unsure if I was excited or not.
“We are in Italy. It’s the best way to get around.”
“I’m going to ruin my hair.” I said while looking at the helmet.
“Nothing about you can be ruined, Hunny.”
I tilted my head to the side and gave him a cynical grin. “If only that were true.”
Sliding on the helmet, I positioned myself onto the scooter behind him, thankful I was wearing pants.
Bryce had laid out clothes on the bed for me like he’d done so many times before, and it now dawned on me that he had chosen my dark denim skinny jeans, Louboutin boots and my Dolce & Gabbana blouse and blazer for a very good reason.
I hugged him tightly, clenching my thighs around his hips and shouting through the helmet. “It’s not the Harley, but it’s a start,” I gave him another squeeze as he took off, my initial squeal being left at the curb.
We pulled up to Ristorante Di Tony, a cute little Italian restaurant in a quiet part of the city. It was not the type of restaurant he would normally choose as this one seemed far from fancy. Don’t get me wrong, it was lovely, quaint and from the sidewalk appeared homely. It was just very different from Bryce’s usual extravagant taste.
I waited for him to dismount and remove his helmet before I headed to the front door of the building.
“This way, Hunny. I have my own private entrance,” he said casually as he took hold of my hand and led me toward the alleyway next to the restaurant. There was something in the way he had said it, or the strikingly handsome smirk on his face, that triggered a sense of déja vu.
I giggled as he pulled me along. “Do you know the owner?”
He smiled at me. “Yeah, I just bought the place.”
“What? Why on earth would you buy—”As we rounded the corner, the sounds of “Bella Notte” filtered into my ears, once again triggering my sense of déja vu. The music, I soon discovered, was being played by a duet who were seated off to the side of a lone round table, topped with a red and white tablecloth, a candle and a single red rose.
Surrounding the table were several potted plants, shielding not only the musical duet, but also the rest of the area behind the restaurant and creating a back drop to what I assumed was our dining spot. Many candles in jars were lit and placed along the ground, romantically paving a walkway to our seats. It was in the moment that I realised my déja vu was because I was standing in the middle of a scene from Lady & the Tramp.
“Oh! My! God!”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
“Bryce! Oh my God, when did you—”
“Never mind about the when, Hunny, come and take a seat.” He placed his hand at the small of my back and ushered me toward the table.
I couldn’t help but let out a surprised laugh. “You are amazing. This is amazing.”
“It’s what I do, Ms. Summers,” he said with a smirk, while pulling out my chair for me to sit in.
As he sat down opposite me, I was struck by just how handsome he looked in the candlelight. His dirty blonde hair was styled back and away from his face, as if he had just run his hands through it and it had obeyed. He was wearing a charcoal coloured shirt with the top two buttons open, a black suit jacket and his sexy light-wash jeans.
“Does your mind ever take a break?” I asked, as he wiped his palms on his pants while he settled into his seat.
“No. A mind functions simply by functioning. If it takes a break, it ceases to exist.”
“Have I ever told you that I find your intelligence a major turn on?”
“No. I thought you wanted me for my body.”
“Well, yeah, that and your cooking.”
“Buona sera.” Bryce replied, his accent rolling off his tongue like liquid sex.
Not being able to speak Italian, I just nodded and smiled in response.
“Can I get you both a drink?” he asked, switching to English but with a heavy accent that was adorable.
Bryce raised his eyebrows at me in question.
Feeling a little daring, I thought I’d try my luck and ask for something a little unorthodox. “I don’t suppose they serve a Cock ‘n Balls do they?”
Closing his eyes slowly, Bryce twitched his head ever so slightly, clearly fighting a battle not to laugh. He opened them again and looked our waiter dead in the eyes. “Is it possible to get my girlfriend a Cock ‘n Balls?”
The waiter flushed bright red. “I’m so sorry, Signor, we do not serve such a drink.”
“Never mind,” I said sweetly “How about Salty Balls or Big Balls?”
The table started shaking, and I soon realised it was from Bryce chuckling. “Hunny, I don’t think they serve any form of balls here.”
“Ha, I bet they serve meat-balls.”
“Yes, Signora, we serve meatballs,” he replied happily, being able to serve me some form of balls.
I started laughing and touched the waiter apologetically on the arm. “Thank you, but I’ll have a glass of Chianti Classico, please. And, Signor Clark will have a Scotch on the rocks.”
He nodded sheepishly and made his way into the restaurant.
“They serve meatballs, Mr. Clark. Did you hear that?”
“Yes,” he answered, still chuckling. “I did.”
I shuffled in my seat and grabbed my napkin, laying it over my lap. “So, you said on our way in that you bought this restaurant. Why? It doesn’t fit your normal real estate acquisition criteria.”
“I like it. The place has character.”
“You’re such a romantic.”
“Hunny, you have no idea.”
“I think I’m starting to. You blow me away.”
“No, Alexis, you blow me away.”
“No. I just blow you,” I said with certainty while eye-fucking him.
One of the members of the duet missed a note, clearly mucking up the tune.
I bit my lip and sunk down a little in my seat, whispering, “I think they speak English.”
Bryce leaned forward and took hold of my hands. “They do,” he said with amusement.
Just as butterflies started to flutter in my stomach at the look of love in his eyes, our waiter appeared with our drinks and, behind him, another waiter with a large plate of spaghetti and meatballs.
We both sat back as they placed the large dish and drinks on the table. “Buon apettito.”
“Grazie,” Bryce and I replied simultaneously, my accent nowhere near as sexy as his.
The duet started playing “Bella Notte” again, this time a little more pronounced. The heightened sound of the accordion and the large plate in front of us—which we were about to share—made me giggle.
“You don’t miss a thing, do you? Although if my memory serves me correctly, Butch passed Lady a meatball with his nose.”
Bryce leaned forward with a playful grin and poked his nose into the plate, nudging a meatball in my direction. I couldn’t help but burst into laughter, not only from his daring move, but also due to the fact he now had bolognaise sauce on the tip of nose.
I leaned forward and licked it off, then quickly patted his nose dry with my napkin. “Why thank you, kind sir.”
I kept laughing as I picked up a piece of spaghetti giving him one end while I took the other. Then, just like the movie, we both started sucking it in, grinning at each other as our mouths moved closer to one another’s. When the spaghetti disappeared, our lips were touching, massaging, kissing while we both swallowed our halves of the noodle. I thanked him with a flick of my tongue then sat back down in my seat.
Forking some spaghetti into my mouth, I figured I’d be just as daring as he was and slurp up a long noodle like Lady had in the movie, forgetting that the sauce would flick all over the place. My natural instinct had me closing my eyes to avoid the spiralling sauce from entering them.
After I’d finished my marathon slurp, I opened one eye and spotted Bryce sitting still, his chest heaving, and his expression mixed with want and something else.
“Fuck it, I can’t wait any longer. You are just too fucking adorable and sexy, and I’m not waiting anymore.” he stood up quickly, startling me, just as it started to rain. Oh, God! We can’t have sex here. Can we?
“Oh no,” I said, looking up into the droplets now falling all around me and thinking he was about to have his wicked way with me on this very spot.
Bryce walked around to my side of the table, and just as I was about to get up and out of the rain, he bent down on one knee before me. “Alexis, from the moment I first laid eyes on you my heart held a secret, a secret I later found out to be true love. You ensnare me completely with your beauty, your wit, your humour and your kindness. And you wake in me every single emotion that I hold. Hunny, I don’t want to live another day without you, I don’t want to take another breath without you, and I don’t want to wait another second to ask you to become my wife.”
I watched him through drenched eyes and cheeks reach inside his jacket pocket and pull out a small velvet box. My breath caught and my heart became motionless within my chest as the heavens opened and showered rain down upon us.
He opened the lid of the box, revealing a diamond ring. Holy, f...f...f...fuck! I was stunned beyond all imagination, seeing a huge twinkling chunk of diamond before me.
He looked up into my eyes, sincerity saturating his handsome face together with droplets of rain. “Alexis Elizabeth Summers, will you marry me?”
My mouth was open as I stared from his face to the ring and back to his face again, warm tears streaking down my cheeks mixing perfectly with the cool of the rain.
“Yes,” I said, barely able to speak. Then, as if reality just up and smacked me in the face, I started nodding profusely. “Yes. Yes. Yes, Bryce. I will marry you.”
He slid the ring onto my finger, then kissed my soaked hand. I grabbed his face and leaned into him, pressing my mouth to his like I had so many times before, except this time it felt indescribable. The passion, the love, the lust and resolution poured out of us both through hands, mouths, lips, and tongues.
He stood up and, as if I were a feather, picked me up and held me to him, not separating his mouth from mine, not even the slightest bit.
I wrapped my legs around his waist, securing our bodies together and feeling the wet soggy clothing between us. The cool from the rain, together with the heat from our passion, hardened my nipples and left me panting with pleasure.
He gripped my arse ferociously as he lapped deliciously at my mouth, then my neck, then chest and the top of my breasts.
“Bryce,” I said breathlessly. “Our meatballs are getting wet.”
“Fuck the meatballs,” he groaned as he carried me back down the alleyway toward the scooter, the duet still happily playing “Bella Notte” in the rain.
***
The ride back to the hotel was both exciting and downright scary. My adrenalin was sky high, but the wet slippery roads together with European crazy drivers had me on edge. I clung tightly to Bryce out of fear and infinite overflowing love.
He led me hastily through the lobby, both of us leaving a wet trail behind us, and when we were in the elevator cart and the doors closed giving us privacy, the hungry desperation returned.
He lifted me up again, placing my arse on the railing that bordered the elevator walls. I let my hands find his hair, his face, his back and his arms, touching as much of him as I could touch. He tore my shirt apart exposing my damp chest, and not waiting any longer than he saw fit, wrenched my bra down and took my perked nipple into his mouth.
We both groa
ned in succession our lustful need spilling out of us at a rapid pace.
“Mmm, you’re mine,” he growled, as he greedily swapped from one breast to the other.
I threw my head back in pleasure. “I’ve been yours for a while, Bryce.”
“I can’t fucking wait to make you my wife.”
“I can’t fucking wait to be your wife,” I breathed, as I took his tongue back into my mouth.
The elevator dinged and the doors opened to reveal our suite. Carrying me inside, he headed straight for the lounge, or more precisely, the open fire. We continued to kiss each other feverishly and desperately as if our mouths knew nothing else, all the while frantically peeling our wet clothes from one another.
Bryce set me on my feet then dropped to his knees, lifting my leg onto his lap.
“I like you on your knees. So far only great things have come from your mouth while on your knees,” I lovingly admitted, as I looked at my ring then back at him, my eyebrows rising with a smile.
He smirked devilishly at me as he unzipped my boot and removed it then switched legs and did the same with the other. As he unbuttoned my jeans and stripped them from my body—together with my G-string—I quivered with excitement. His tongue slowly made its journey up my leg, finding my pussy wet with desire, desire for him; desire for my fiancé. Holy fuckaroo, Bryce Clark is my fiancé.
“You are my fiancé,” I exclaimed, my voice sounding like I had only just let it sink in.
He flicked his tongue across my clit then paused. “Yes, I am.”
“We are getting married,” I exclaimed again.
“Yes,” he mumbled against my clitoris before inserting his finger.
The feeling of fulfillment nearly had me buckling at the knees, so much so that I stumbled back against the large floor to ceiling window. Bryce stood up and faced me, pressing me against the thick glass panel with his warm hard body while the Italian winter air kissed the window with its ferocious chill, shocking my skin at its icy feel. I gasped.
Reaching down, he wrapped one arm underneath my arse, lifting me against him while the other hand stayed pressed against the glass pane. I opened myself to him, his erect head not needing any guidance into my pussy. He was hard, full and ready to be pumped.
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