“The fish?” Renata asked, wondering how a love of seafood contributed to beauty.
“We always knew fish made you healthy and strong. And now the rest of the world knows—but they take fish in pills.” Capitano Galletti shook his head at that foolishness. “Pills, pah.”
“Indeed,” Giorgio said with grave respect. “We are looking forward to some fresh fish. You have an excellent reputation for your seafood dishes.”
“But, of course! The cook will prepare grilled swordfish for you tonight—fresh caught just this morning while we were still in bed.”
Renata suppressed a grin. They had indeed been in bed, but probably not asleep. For spending so much time in bed, she was awfully tired. A nap like Giorgio had suggested sounded great.
The captain had other ideas, though. “Come, more Prosecco.” He topped off their glasses. “I show you the most beautiful coast in the world.”
He was as good as his word. After they left the inlet at Vernazza, he showed them a picturesque view of the hills and cliffs studded with coral, white and yellow houses leading down to the pebbly beach.
“And now, Corniglia!” the captain announced like a proud father. “The first Roman farmer here named it after his mother, Cornelia. What a good son, eh?”
Renata stared at the tiny hilltop town, amazed that her great-grandparents had summoned the nerve to leave it for the wilds of New York City. They must have had the mother of all culture shock when they arrived in America early in the twentieth century. She had friends who lived in apartment buildings with more people than the entire village.
Giorgio leaned in close. “It is only a few kilometers’ hike from our flat. We will visit before you go.”
She nodded, noting how he’d said “our flat” and then followed that up by reminding her she was leaving. Mixed messages? “I’m not looking forward to leaving.”
“Me, neither,” he admitted. “This has been a little slice of heaven.”
“Heaven indeed! Beautiful wine country,” crowed Capitano Galletti. “Jugs at Pompeii had ads for white wine from Corniglia. I have a friend there who makes her own wine—delizioso! I can get you a nice, nice discount.” He winked at Giorgio, who smiled in return.
Renata wondered what Giorgio might have said if the captain hadn’t inserted the ad for his friend’s wine. She just had to get up her nerve and ask him again when they were alone.
Renata scanned the coastline and stood up straight. “Look, that guy is jumping off the cliff.”
“Crazy, eh? Cliff diving.” Something in Giorgio’s slightly nostalgic tone made her narrow her eyes.
“So crazy you’ve never tried it?”
“Well…” He shrugged, a mischievous look in his eyes. “I seem to recall trying it once or twice while vacationing with Jack and Frank in the Spanish Riviera when we were in college. I have to confess my wits and judgment were dulled by major quantities of sangria but we all managed to survive without significant injury. Think Frank sprained an ankle.”
“Giorgio! I can’t believe you did that.” Her jaw dropped. The captain suddenly realized he had to be somewhere else and hastily departed.
“I have to admit cliff-diving was my idea.”
“Yours? Were you crazy as well as drunk?”
“Frank was both. He was coming off a bad breakup and wanted to jump off a cliff, minus the ocean below. So I told him if he was going to jump off a cliff, he had to take us with him. Jack calculated the angle and velocity to avoid smashing onto the rocks. We all made it into the water, although Frank moved his foot at the last second and wound up spraining it. Water is very hard when you hit it incorrectly.”
“Anything for a friend, huh?” That poor guy Frank had been so down he didn’t care, his friend Jack had put some scientific method to the madness and Giorgio had coordinated the whole thing like the leader he was born to be.
Considering how Giorgio was the only male heir to the throne and taking care of Stefania, the risk he’d taken was shocking. “I never knew you had that reckless side.”
He raised one black eyebrow. “Didn’t you?” His tone was low and seductive.
Oh, yes, she did know about his reckless side. He buried it well under fancy Italian suits and perfect royal manners, but it did exist, simmering away like a pot of pasta water until someone turned it up to boil over. She had been the one to heat him up.
He placed a fingertip beneath her chin and leaned over to kiss her lightly with closed lips, thanks to the presence of the crew, who were probably peeping at them. Renata closed her eyes, the sweet, warm pressure promising sensual delights later.
He moved his finger up her jawline. “We men are all reckless, especially where beautiful women are concerned.”
“And why is that?”
“The same reason we dive off perfectly good cliffs. The danger. Do we dare to approach the edge? Once we decide to make a move, it is anticipation followed by pure exhilaration. And what will the finish be? Successful, or—”
“Or a sprained ankle or cracked-open head,” she finished dryly.
He grinned and raised his Prosecco again. “Ah, but that only gives us war wounds and battle scars that we can brag about. Almost like breaking a leg on the slopes in Gstaad and then sitting in the lodge while ski beauties bring you brandy.”
Renata rolled her eyes. And this was why they were destined to be a vacation fling—just another example of their different worlds. He was a Verdi grand opera singer and she was a Frank Sinatra impersonator. He was a fancy five-star restaurant and she like a mom-and-pop hole-in-the-wall hangout complete with red-checked tablecloth and wax-covered Chianti bottle candlestick.
LUNCH WAS A BUFFET of antipasti, sausages and salami, Italian cheese and fresh-baked focaccia dotted with garlic. One dish Renata had never seen before was the Cinque Terre version of potato salad with small red potatoes, green beans and pesto sauce, but it was delicious. Wouldn’t her mother be surprised when Renata brought back a new recipe?
After a dessert of lemon gelato, Renata stretched out on a deck chair facing the ocean. “Ah, this is the life.” She was so full she was considering taking a real nap.
Giorgio sat in the adjoining chair and took her hand. “I’m glad you are enjoying yourself. Although Cinque Terre can be the quietest area of the Italian Riviera, being on the water is even more so.”
The crewman finished clearing away lunch with the captain looking down from the bridge in an avuncular manner. He gave them a friendly wave and they waved back.
“Does he know who you are?” she asked in a low voice.
“Probably.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Paolo made the arrangements, and he can be very persuasive in convincing businessmen to maintain their confidentiality standards.”
She giggled. With his size and intense demeanor, Paolo could convince anyone to do anything. “Well, the captain seems like a good guy, unlikely to alert the paparazzi. You don’t want to wind up on the front of the tabloids, do you?”
“I’m used to it. They’ve been publishing my pictures since my mother carried me out onto the palazzo balcony after my baptism.”
“Since you were a baby?”
He preened. “I was very photogenic. Bald, but photogenic.”
“I don’t like having my picture taken.” She shuddered. “Probably a holdover from my overweight Goth days. I used to hide behind my brothers during family photos. Good thing they’re all big guys—”
“Stop. I’m sure you were too hard on yourself. Most girls go through an awkward phase. Stefania wore braces for a couple years and spent hours in the bathroom checking for spots on her skin.”
“But to live your life in that fishbowl?”
He stretched out his legs. “But we don’t live our lives in the fishbowl. At home, when I was young, my mother would bake cookies and dig in the garden and my father would build model airplane kits with me and go fishing in the nearby river. We were just a normal family, except with fancier clothes and more job titles than m
ost.”
“You must have had a happy childhood.”
“Happier than the latter part of Stefania’s.” He caught Renata’s hand. “But what could I do about that?” he asked philosophically.
“You did your best, which was better than most young men would have done.” Would her brothers have taken her in under the same circumstances. Of course, she decided. They drove her nuts but they were fiercely loyal.
“I did threaten to punch out a photographer once,” Giorgio reminisced with a fond air. “He cordered Stefania in a boutique when I was taking her shopping for a prom dress. We had him thrown out of the store.”
Renata made a face. Following a teenage girl dress shopping—a career to be proud of. “If I see one of those camera jerks, I won’t threaten to punch him—I’ll just go ahead and do it.”
He gave her a considering glance. “I believe you. But so far on our ocean trip we haven’t done anything worthy of the tabloids.”
“What a shame.” She smiled at him. “When do we start?”
“How does now sound?” He gracefully got to his feet and extended his hand to her. “I would carry you to our stateroom but the stairs are too narrow. You will have to settle for holding hands.”
She wiggled her finger at him. “All right, but we’ll do better than that once we get in there.”
“Of course.”
He guided her into the stateroom and she was suitably impressed. Bigger than their bedroom in the villa, it had a king-size mahogany bed with a champagne-colored brocade coverlet and ivory sheets. Little gold sconces were hung over the matching nightstands, and a wide dresser stood off to the side. A big, full-length gilt mirror hung on the wall opposite the foot of the bed. It was classic and lush.
“What would you like to do?” she asked him.
“This.” He started to undo the peasant style laces on her top and pulled her bodice open. “Mamma mia, what is this?” he asked with delight.
“A bustier.” White satin to go under her white top. “You like?”
“I love.”
Her heart flipped, even though she knew he was just talking about her lingerie. “Good.” She yanked her blouse over her head and unbuttoned her denim skirt. It fell to the floor and she kicked it away.
He actually bit his knuckles and groaned. “Why did we bother eating lunch? If I had known this, you wouldn’t have seen anything but this room.”
She smiled in sly satisfaction. Her second surprise had been the matching white satin thong. When those paired with the bustier and red high heels, it was no wonder Giorgio was already moaning.
He made a grab for her and she ducked away. “No, no, no.” She wiggled her finger at him. “You have to take off your clothes, too.”
“Fine.” He popped a couple buttons on his shirt, making her laugh.
“And then, I want you to sit at the foot of the bed.”
He quickly stripped and sat, beckoning to her. “Come here, baby. Giorgio will make you feel so good.”
She shivered, knowing he spoke the truth. He was the most generous lover, making sure she came first every time—sometimes more than once. But she wanted to give him a special thank-you for the surprise cruise and if he had to wait a little bit, then too bad.
“Tell me, Giorgio, were you one of those wild princes when you were younger? Did you and your friends Jack and Frank blow money watching half-naked girls strut around on stage?”
He laughed. “We were amazingly dull. Which is why I think you are so exciting, Renata.”
That gave her just the opening she was looking for. “Let me make it up to you. Sit back and enjoy the show.” She found a small radio on the nightstand and tuned it to a hard-beating Italian pop song.
“Come here, Renata. I have something for you.” It was more a plea than a command. He spread his knees and showed her what he wanted to give her. He was plenty aroused, his cock large and toasty brown like a sweet-tasting pastry and his sac was full almost to bursting. As she watched, a drop rose on his plump tip, begging her to lick him clean. She almost gave in because she loved the taste and feel of him in her mouth, soft skin over hard flesh, slippery but firm. He loved it, too.
She shook her head and started swaying her hips, trying not to giggle. Two-to-one odds she’d fall on her ass if she tried anything too complicated since dance had never been her strong suit and being on high heels was another mark against her.
Giorgio didn’t seem to notice her less-than-professional skills, his gaze hungry as she slowly swiveled her butt. She turned her back to him and wiggled more, pleased at his intake of breath.
“Tell me what you like, Prince Giorgio.”
“I want that pretty ass in front of me as I pump into it.”
She staggered on her heels, the image hard-driving and graphic. Her thong was immediately sopping wet. “What else do you want?” She turned to face him.
“I want your tits in my mouth so I can suck on them while I fuck you with my fingers.”
“These tits?” She slowly lowered the satin cups on the bustier and folded them down. Her breasts were supported by the corseting but totally naked. Her own breath was coming as hard as his. “Like this?” She sucked on her index finger and slowly rubbed the saliva across the tips. Her nipples hardened and deepened in color to a shiny deep rose.
Giorgio groaned and cupped his cock. “Look at what you are doing to me, Renata.” His shaft bulged with veins, the head darkened to a rich plum. “Show me some mercy.”
She shook her head. “Show me how you touched yourself when you thought of me. Before I got here and you were hot, hard and horny.”
He swallowed hard but he obeyed her for once and stroked himself up and down from base to tip, using his own moisture for lubricant.
Her clit was pounding at a crazy pace so she slipped a finger under her thong.
“Stop.” His nostrils flared, his pupils dilating with desire. “Come here.”
She obeyed him this time, shaking with desire as she stood in front of him.
“You are quite the little tease, Renata, with your bottom and breasts bared for me but not allowing me to touch you.”
She grinned and he lifted an eyebrow. “You need to be disciplined for your disrespect.”
“Oh, yeah? Whaddaya have in mind?” she asked in her broadest Brooklyn accent.
“This.” He gestured to his lap and for a second she thought he meant the obvious, which wasn’t a punishment for either one of them. Instead he actually eased her down so she was lying facedown across his lap. She couldn’t believe how turned on she was with her bare breasts falling free on one side of his thighs, her bare ass sunny side up on the other and his long cock smack dab in the middle of her stomach.
Her face burned, and not just from being gravitationally challenged. It was so exciting and so shameful, but way more exciting than shameful because it was Giorgio, after all, and she wouldn’t be caught dead doing this with any other man. “Have you ever done this before?”
“No,” he rasped. “But I can’t help wanting to do all sorts of crazy things to you. You are driving me mad. I only think with my cock when you are with me. When you are not with me I only think of how I can please you.”
“Enough talk—more action.” She rubbed her satin-covered belly over his cock and he groaned.
“Deal.”
Their sexual bargain agreed upon, he set out to consummate it. Her breasts were easy targets as they swayed like ripe fruit for the picking. He brushed her nipples, one and then the other, with the lightest of touches. Then firmer passes, more and more until he was rolling her nipples between his fingers. She let out a moan as he unexpectedly pinched her, bearing the weight of her breasts in his hand.
“I would like to make you come by just playing with your tits.” His tone was casual, but the way his cock throbbed against her was anything but casual as he continued to play with her. “But to do that, I want to use my mouth on you. You will lie on top of me and dangle your pretty pink nipples
against my lips until I decide which one I want to suck first.”
Renata couldn’t keep her hips from grinding.
“Oh, none of that.” He rubbed his hand over her quivering butt cheeks and then suddenly smacked them. She jerked her head back in surprise but not pain. It was more of a tap than anything. “Stay still and you will get a reward.”
“You know I will anyway,” she retorted. Her “reward” was currently making its presence known against her belly.
“Minx.” He tapped her butt again.
“Ooh, when you call me that, I…I…”
He sighed. “I can see this is not arousing enough to sufficiently distract you from side commentary. Perhaps we should stop…”
“Please don’t, Your Highness. I promise to be ever so submissive.”
His cough sounded suspiciously like a muffled laugh. “See that you are.” He stroked her bottom again to the tops of her thighs and pulled her thong aside.
She arched her back again. “Oh, Giorgio.” He had slipped his thumb inside her pussy and was rotating it lazily, stretching her sensitive opening. He bumped her G-spot again and she cried out. It was torture, the constant circular pressure, never in the same place for very long and slow enough to drive her crazy.
His other hand found her breasts and he rubbed his hard palm over both nipples at once. She tried to push them against him harder but he was tormenting her with his light sexy touches.
She started gasping for breath. It was all too much, but not enough. She ground frantically against his hand. “Make me come, Giorgio. I need it now.”
“Do you?” he asked lazily. “And what will you do for me in return?” He gave her a quick tap on the ass. “Anything…anything.”
“Tell me. I want to hear you say it.”
“I’ll take you in my mouth. Suck you until you come. Open my body to you and let you do whatever you want.”
“Good.” He found her clit with his long index finger and flicked it back and forth. He rolled her nipples between his fingers, pulling them to impossibly long peaks. She started to writhe on his lap, burning hot and cold at the same time.
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