Spring Break Bride: A Virgin For The Billionaire Fake Marriage Romance

by Vivien Vale

  She’s rocking her hips lightly as I finger her, curving my digits against her G-spot. I can feel her come, and her moans grow louder.

  I can’t take it anymore. I need to be inside her.

  I take my fingers out and lick them, watching her the entire time.

  She chuckles lightly and reaches out to pull me toward her.

  Our lips crash together, and I press my groin against hers, letting her feel just how hot I am for her.

  As our tongues tangle I let my cock rub against her wetness, I pull back to look her in the eyes.

  “This might hurt a little. If it gets to be too much, tell me.”

  “It’s okay,” she pecks at my lips. “I trust you.”

  I breathe out heavily and lean my weight down on her, positioning the tip of my cock right at her entrance.

  I push in gently, looking up at her to make sure she’s alright. Slowly, I continue to enter her, watching her the entire time so I can pull back at the first sign of pain.

  She’s so fucking tight, I’m ready to lose my mind.

  She flinches slightly, so I pause, but she urges me on. “Don’t stop, please…” Her hands wrap around my back, while her legs circle my waist.

  When I’m finally all the way in, I can’t help but ask, “Are you okay?”

  “More than okay, Dante…” her voice is thick.

  I bring my lips to hers, letting them linger there while I start thrusting gently.

  She’s growing wetter by the minute and I find myself grinding against her a little harder. I stroke her clit with my thumb and feel her pussy walls clench around me.

  I groan, burying my face in her neck.

  She surprises me by nipping at my earlobe and kissing my neck.

  “Nicole…” her name escapes my lips in a wanton pant.

  A moment later, she comes again, and it’s like the floodgates open.

  I pick up the pace, thrusting hard enough to rock the boat. If anyone floats by, there’s no doubt that a single glance would have given us away.

  I’m feeling too good to give a fuck, anyway.

  Being inside her is like having a slice of heaven, and I can feel myself growing thicker as I drive ever closer to my release.

  “You feel so fucking good,” I moan against her lips before thrusting my tongue in her mouth.

  “You, too,” she whispers.

  I grow rougher in my movements, shoving myself deep inside her as my primal desire wins over logic.

  She digs her nails into my back. Her legs tighten around my waist as she starts moving her hips with mine, growing tighter as she does.

  Fuck. I’m so close…

  “Just a little more…” I pant, losing all self-control.

  The boat is rocking dangerously now, but I can’t stop. I won’t stop.

  “Fuck!” I scream with a final thrust, pushing her hips down so it’s flush with the bench. I drive myself all the way in, my cock pulsing as I come inside her.

  For a moment, I don’t move. We lay there together, with me still inside her. I look down at her to find her smiling at me, her face fully flushed and her hair disheveled.

  She’s never looked more beautiful than she does right now.

  I’m spent. Exhausted, really. But it’s a great fucking feeling.

  The adrenaline is still pumping through my veins.

  We really did this. I’ve finally made her mine.

  “That was amazing,” I kiss her softly, trailing light pecks all over her face.

  She laughs her angelic laugh, “It really was…thank you.”

  “Uh-uh, thank you.” I kiss her one last time before pushing myself up to get dressed.

  “Ahhh!” she screams as the boat lurches to one side.

  I grab her in an attempt to steady our movements, but it’s no use.

  We both fall into the cold water with a loud splash.

  Chapter 21

  Nicole

  Everything goes cold, and it takes me a moment to realize what the hell just happened.

  One moment we’re basking in the afterglow of our intense love-making session, the next we’re taking a dip in the canal.

  Talk about going from hot to cold in about the time it takes to blink.

  It’s almost like an out-of-body experience, and I’m frozen until I realize that I have to swim if I want to avoid drowning.

  Unfortunately, swimming has never been my strong suit, and as I flail my arms desperately in some warped version of the doggie paddle, Dante grabs me around the waist.

  “I gotcha.” His low voice reverberates in my ear. Any other time, and I’d be jumping his bones. Again.

  Right now, though, his voice provides that element of comfort that Ryan’s never did.

  He effortlessly pulls me to his exposed chest and navigates us to the edge of the canal.

  We collapse on the shore and just gape at each other for a moment, panting as we catch our breaths.

  His hair is matted against his head, and I can only imagine what mine looks like. A bird’s nest, for sure.

  I wring it out and let it fall over my shoulders. I’ll fix it later in the shower. There’s nothing I can do about it now, after all.

  “You should’ve told me you fancied a swim. Could’ve done it in a pool or something.” He smirks. “We really gotta stop taking dips in the canal.”

  Our pants quickly turn to giggles, which then turn to full-on laughter. I wipe tears away from my eyes and clutch at my sides.

  I haven’t laughed like that in forever. And it’s all thanks to Dante.

  “Thanks for saving me again.” I lean against him. He kisses my forehead.

  “I’d save you a million times if I have to.”

  The sincerity in his voice rings through, and I can tell he means every word.

  We sit on the shore for a while, just taking in the nighttime air and the romantic scenery that surrounds us.

  The gondola happens to float by, and I can’t contain the giggles that erupt.

  All I can think is that someone is going to discover the empty gondola with my underwear inside.

  What I wouldn’t give to be a fly on the wall when that happens.

  The moonlight dances across the rippling water. And while the water was cold, the atmosphere is anything but.

  Dante has his arm around my waist, warming me up in more ways than one.

  My mind drifts back to the amazing sex we had in the gondola, and how gentle he was at first. While it was nice, as he grew rougher, he excited me more and more.

  None of this would’ve happened had things gone according to plan.

  There’s no denying that the last few days have been nothing short of strange, starting with my arrival in Venice.

  “It’s so strange…” I mutter under my breath.

  “What is?”

  I look up at him, and I’m overtaken once again by warmth and desire when our eyes connect. “Everything.” I smile.

  I look back out over the water and let out a long breath.

  The truth is, I came to this city to marry Ryan and ended up married to Dante.

  “Sometimes life has a mysterious way of leading you to exactly where you need to be.” He pulls me closer to him.

  “Maybe…but you know, it’s funny. Even though everything turned out exactly the opposite of what I was expecting, I’m not uneasy.”

  I lean up and kiss his lips softly, letting them linger there for a long moment.

  “To be honest, there was always a little bit of doubt in my mind. Things with Ryan and I moved way too quickly, and I guess I got caught up in the moment.”

  This much is true. I defended his behavior to everyone who dared to speak against him. But in the back of my mind, I was always questioning him and his motives.

  The fact that he couldn’t be here to welcome me to Venice, or hell, even attend our wedding, is more than enough to make me realize that he wasn’t the one.

  Our relationship was stiff, awkward at times, even. Kissing
was almost torture, and I never desired him the way I desire Dante.

  “I guess all he really wanted was a trophy wife.”

  Thinking back, the way Ryan wooed me was so formulaic. He put no real effort into our relationship. Our dates were mundane, even though he could afford anything.

  Not that money is the be-all, end-all of a relationship, but he had the money to put the effort forth. And he fell flat every time.

  Dante, on the other hand, has made these last few days so meaningful that I’ve barely had a thought to spare to Ryan. It didn’t matter if we were walking or dancing; he made me feel alive, which is something Ryan could never do.

  “Who knows what that asshole was thinking.” He rests his head against mine, and I snuggle closer. “The one thing I can say, though, is that his fucking loss is my gain.”

  He leans back to look me in the eyes.

  “I mean that, you know. The moment I laid eyes on you, I fell for you, almost literally.”

  I can’t help but chuckle at that.

  I certainly made a splash on my first day in Venice, and he was there to save me. Just like tonight.

  It seems like he’s always saving me—saving me from the water, from Ryan, and from what was sure to be a life of misery.

  He’s my own knight in shining armor.

  I owe him a lot, and I’m beginning to see just what he’s done for me in so little time.

  Since I’ve arrived in Venice, I’ve been more of my usual self than I was the entire time I spent by Ryan’s side. Whether I was sketching or dancing, I got to feel free and valued for being me, not someone Dante wanted me to be.

  Dante’s made me realize that I need to remain true to who I am and not sacrifice myself for someone else’s sake.

  Certainly not for someone who decided not to show up when it mattered. Who didn’t spare a thought to how I would feel being blown off.

  “C’mon, Mrs. Walsh.” He stands up and extends his hand. “Let’s get back to the hotel, check on Luciano, and shower. As much as I love the canal, I don’t want to smell like it any longer.”

  “Together?”

  “If you want.” He takes my hand, interlacing our fingers. “I won’t ever say no to showering with you.”

  “I bet you wouldn’t.”

  “A chance to see you naked and sudsy? Count. Me. In.”

  We walk back to the hotel, hand in hand the entire way.

  A girl could get used to this.

  Chapter 22

  Dante

  “It’s just a little bit of everything, isn’t it?”

  Nicole doesn’t answer, and she may not have heard me, but I’m just enjoying watching her shake her head in mild disbelief.

  She watches the scenery roll by through the tinted limousine window. I don’t know if Nicole’s shaking her head at the flawless weather, the empty roads, or just how goddamn gorgeous the rolling, green hills are out of Venice.

  “What was that?” she asks quietly, still staring out the window.

  “The blue skies, the green hills, Italy in the spring—it’s all just too much, isn’t it?”

  Nicole shrugs without looking away from the window. It’s the best response I could’ve hoped for.

  “I never imagined in Europe…”

  My heart starts its ridiculous, overexcited thumping in my chest again when Nicole turns away from the window and toward me.

  When she nudges her sunglasses up slightly, my whole central nervous system seems to start firing itself up to a dangerous degree.

  I raise a brow at her and grin. “You never imagined that even in Europe, things could be so amazing?”

  “Finishing each other’s sentences now, are we?”

  “Was that not the thought you were about to finish, my wife?”

  “I’m afraid not, my husband. I was just thinking that, in Europe, riding in a vehicle this size would be rare. I figured it’s mostly Smart cars and shit and fancy high-speed trains and such.”

  Although the traces of a smirk are belying the dead-serious tone of her voice, I can’t help answering my new bride with a matching degree of faux-seriousness.

  “You’re here for your wedding. You should expect—no, demand the largest tank of a limo available at all times, no matter how short the trip.”

  “Why, because it’s the American way?”

  “Maybe coincidentally, but more than that, it’s the married way! At least the newly wedded way of approaching transport.”

  Nicole’s smirk has grown to a half-amused, sardonic smile by the time her head turns lazily back towards the window.

  “Italy wouldn’t be this beautiful if everyone who came here to be romantic had that attitude.”

  Nicole perks up a bit as the limo makes a slow, careful turn onto the long driveway towards the winery.

  “I bet the grapes benefit from the cleaner air anyway,” she continues.

  My smile is already there to greet hers when she turns back to me.

  A shared sense of ridiculousness—that’s one thing we seem to have going for us, at any fucking rate.

  It makes sense, because this is a ridiculous situation we’re in. But, as ridiculous situations go, I am sure enjoying this one.

  And Nicole is, too—or she seems to be at least.

  “I’ll tell you what, why don’t we have the driver let us out here so we can walk the rest of the way?”

  “Yes. Why don’t we, husband?”

  “It’s a private tour, anyway. They can wait a couple of extra minutes. I’ll make it worth the guide’s time,” I mutter while engaging the intercom to the driver. “Mi scusi, signore—”

  I don’t need to continue, because the chauffeur gently presses the brakes before I let out another word. It can be said that any experienced limo driver worth his salt is familiar with every nuance of the newlywed dynamic, and the tone of my voice probably told him to stop before my words had the chance.

  “I guess he speaks Italian,” Nicole quips.

  “All I said was ‘Excuse me’. Sometimes, that’s all you need, I guess.”

  “Sometimes, all I need is some Prosecco fresh from the maturation barrels.”

  “Hey, you speak the language! Sort of.”

  “What does ‘sort of’ mean?” Nicole asks half-angrily as the chauffeur opens the rear door. She slips out onto the gravel before I can answer.

  Obviously, I answer anyway.

  “Usually, they’re just called oak barrels—but, I like ‘maturation barrels’ better.”

  “Mm, I bet you do.”

  Nicole’s getting way ahead of me already, not even bothering to look back. Maybe she really is annoyed, or maybe she can’t resist the allure of that sweet, light, deceptively simple—or is it deceptively complex?—blend of citrusy, almost tropical flavors straight from the maturity barrels, as she delightfully calls them.

  I jog a few feet along the gravel to catch up with her.

  “You’re as excited for the tour as I am, it would seem,” Nicole comments, popping the moment’s little balloon of tension with her pinprick of a joke.

  “I knew it! You’re really in Italy for the wine. Admit it.”

  “You’ve got me, Dante. It’s too bad I didn’t learn what a liquor store is until my plane ride over. My face was red, I can tell you.”

  “This’ll be better than what you can get in any liquor…Hey, Giorgio!”

  The owner of the winery is a bit of a legend with anyone who’s traveled to this area more than a couple of times, for nothing more than being such an abnormally fucking warm and friendly presence.

  Like now, Giorgio comes out to greet us well before we arrive at the reception area or inside at all.

  “Ah, Signore Walsh! I had a feeling when I heard a party of two...well, I’ll leave you to it. Enjoy the tour! It’s as private as can be.”

  There are certain things that you witness only once in a lifetime. Things that logically seem like they must be outright fucking impossible.

  But when you
do see them—during that once-in-a-lifetime moment—it seems so real that you won’t even fucking dare question it.

  Even as the days go by and you remember that one crazy moment, you ask yourself if it was real at all, and you try to tell yourself that you must’ve imagined it—maybe because you’re in another part of the world and still a bit jet lagged or at least feeling sort of swampy— but you know that’s bullshit because you feel fucking great, and you still saw it with your own eyes.

  This must be the place for one of these moments now, because I swear on all the Prosecco in northeast Italy that Giorgio just waved at us before simply vanishing in front of our eyes.

  It’s even more real because I have a witness with me—my wife, technically—and who better than her to corroborate what I just saw?

  “That was Giorgio, but he just vanished. You saw that, right?”

  “He just walked back into that little house down there. He was quick, though.”

  “Oh. Because, I swear...”

  “We’re still getting a tour, right? Or at least some wine?”

  “I can provide both—I guess that’s what Giorgio meant by ‘private.’”

  “Che bello! I learned that one on the plane for real. Come on, less talking, more heading down to where the wine and grapes and stuff are.”

  I had no plans to be a tour guide today, or ever, but I’m suddenly so enlivened by the idea of showing Nicole around I start walking fast toward the vineyard before I even realize what I’m doing.

  “If it’s grapes you want, they’re all around here. Beautiful Glera grapes as far as the eye can see.”

  This time, Nicole actually runs a few feet to catch up with me.

  “Alright, alright. I’ll look at some grapes already—but I don’t want to consume any until they’ve been properly fermented.”

  “In maturation barrels.”

  The side of Nicole’s hand whacks my forearm with some force. I still barely feel it through my shirt, but I grab my forearm dramatically.

  “Hey! Ow! Don’t you realize that I love that you call them that?”

  “I don’t know if I’ll ever realize that.”