by Billy London
“It is important that you do know.”
She picked up a fork and moved an olive stone across her plate. “It doesn’t make any difference to me. I’m not even related to your daughter-in-law.”
Massimo firmly removed the fork from her hand and took her sunglasses, throwing them overboard. Her eyes flashed fury, “What’s the matter with you?”
“Talk to me,” he ordered. “Properly.”
“And say what? You’re so great. You’re so powerful. You’re a big man. I’ll tell you this. You’re not. Why? You’re just lucky because you haven’t been caught.”
He was insulted and ashamed by the truth in her words. “I like to think it has been more than luck.”
“Cunning, quickness, whatever,” she shrugged. “I don’t want to know.”
“I want you to know. I need you to know what I am, so you can—”
“What?” she flashed, “What do I do with that?”
Love me in spite of it, he thought feeling her distance as if she were back in London and he were alone on this damn boat. “I want us to be even. You know me and I know you. We were very close this morning.”
“It was the drink,” she dismissed.
“It was there before you touched a drop,” he reminded her, annoyance creeping along his spine.
Her lashes lowered defensively. “I’m too—”
Massimo unclenched his jaw just to speak, “If you say old, Bella, you and I will be having serious words.”
To his surprise she gave a snort of laughter. “I always say it, I know. But I am. I can’t be saying this is good, if it’s not and I’m happy if I’m not.”
“You were happy when you did not know, but it would not be fair to either of us to keep it from you.” She didn’t disagree with him to his relief. “Spend today with me. Let us enjoy it before realities make us both sad and regretful. I am tired of regrets, are you not also?”
He begged her with his eyes to let go, to do something that was out of her conservative character, to be free and honest to her very nature.
“Aren’t you one more regret?” she asked.
“Not unless you allow me to be one.” He placed his hands on either side of her face, trying to send reassurance in his touch that there was no danger in a single day. For now…
“I think you need to leave me alone for a little bit,” she said finally.
At least she wasn’t jumping overboard and swimming back to shore. “Maybe take a rest down below or on the upper deck?”
“Up there,” she nodded to the sundeck. Without waiting for his permission, she took her straw bag and climbed up the stairs. He watched her tug down her floral kaftan and lie down on the lounger. She removed a huge straw hat from her bag of magic tricks and placed it firmly on the back of her neck before tucking her face into her elbow.
With a sigh he called one of the staff for a bottle of ice cold white wine. If he had learned anything from his past, it was patience that delivered. Belinda was more than worth his patience.
She fell under the sedation of the sun’s heat, the yacht rocking her into slumber and had the oddest dream. Belinda was back working for the bank, sitting at her old desk in her swimming costume, only Massimo seemed to be her boss, one hand firmly curled around her left breast as he talked her through transferring monies from one account to another. “The money’s not yours,” she told him on a sigh, wishing he’d move his hand further south.
“You are though.” His words collided with the straps of the costume being pulled to her waist. “You will understand in about forty years. Now lift your ass for me. I want to taste you while you finish.”
Her eyes flew open. My word. Massimo was sitting beside her, stroking his hand along her arm almost carelessly. He tilted his head to her once he sensed her movement.
“Are you awake?”
She gave a slight nod. So the bit before hadn’t been part of a dream. They were still on the yacht now beneath a stone based huge blue umbrella. And she still knew far too much. He continued to stroke her arm, glancing out over the sea. Belinda was furious with herself for allowing herself to begin to care about this man and the thought made her even angrier.
Her whole life she’d only ever done the right thing, the moral thing and she’d ended up alone. All the men she had ever associated with, the ones who were supposedly God fearing, had showed their lack of belief not only in themselves or even God, but her. She’d been let down by those she had been taught to trust, in that lesson, she’d taught herself to be trusting only in God. To do only what was sensible. Head over heart, every single time. Then this happened. And she was suddenly torn in a way she’d never needed to be. Making the right decision had been easy when she didn’t feel like this.
Massimo had treated her with more care, more honesty than she had even thought possible from a man. Would one day cause that much harm? She wasn’t foolish enough to think that she’d be able to change him or set him on some righteous path and neither was she so weak that she would be on the road to hell because of him either. What the hell do I do?
“Do you want to go back?” Massimo asked her quietly.
She sat up, dislodging the hat and placing it on her lap. “Let me go tidy myself up.”
“Use the master bathroom. It will have everything you need.” She gave him a slight smile. He looked so sad as if he thought he’d lost her to the realities of his past. Hurrying to the bathroom two decks below, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror. Why don’t I feel like I deserve to be a little bit happy? She was thinking too hard. When had that ever worked out for her? Combing a protecting gloss through her hair, she cleaned her teeth slowly. “Stop,” she chided herself. “You’ll be one foot in the grave if you stay here any longer.”
Massimo was waiting for her on the fly bridge, resting his elbows on his knees. He looked up when he saw her approach and the look in his eyes caused a lump to form in her throat. “It will not take us long to get back,” he said quietly. “I can have a taxi take us back to the villa from the marina.”
Just do it. She took a deep breath. “Show me the island.”
He started, blue eyes round with surprise. “Are you—?”
She interrupted him immediately. “Don’t ask me that. Just let’s go.”
With a short nod, he went to have a word with the captain and returned in swimming trunks. Physically, he was a sinfully attractive man. But then the devil is always more attractive. Massimo jumped overboard first and when he surfaced he beckoned to her. She joined him and felt that wonderful realisation of nothing but the buoyancy of the water beneath her feet. It was so clear. With a smile, she tipped her head back and allowed herself to float on the surface. Nothing wrong could ever happen when she was in the sea. It was her second home.
“Bella, come this way.”
They swam through crystal clear water, tiny silver fish scattering in their wake. Belinda kept her head above water so she could follow him. The sun disappeared behind the imposing, white faced rocks. He told her in the muted darkness of a slight alcove that the island had been subject to invasions and had been gifted by emperors. It had seen plagues, Christianity, isolation. She reached up and ran a wet hand over the nearest wall of rock. To think, with all the island had experienced, it had survived, it had endured. All at once she felt very small in the world and even foolish for her supposed dilemma. She looked at Massimo who was looking to the sunlight, his profile strong, stately, like the emperors he had spoken of.
If he hadn’t done what he had would she be here? Would any of this be happening to her, to them right this minute?
“What did your parents do again?” she asked.
“They ran the winery and traded the olives for oil, bread, butter, beauty products,” he replied. “It was a good business but it was not enough for me.”
“And you didn’t care how you got it?” she finished for him. He breathed out heavily, looking down into the water.
“Please. Do not make me wi
sh it undone, because I would not have my boys and without them I have nothing.”
His voice broke her heart. She swam close to him and slipped her arms around his neck. “I would never wish that. Never.”
She kissed away those tears, her mouth trailing along the planes of his face until their lips met. He froze in her embrace, as if he couldn’t understand why she was kissing him. She urged him to respond to her with the press of her body and mouth. Kiss me! She begged. And he needed to soon, before she lost all confidence that this what he wanted just as much as she did. Suddenly, he kissed her back! Her stomach fluttered violently when his tongue met hers. She tasted the salt of the sea water and in the depth of that kiss, his vulnerability. Tightening her arms around his neck, she kissed him harder. He was glorious muscle and heat and such strength. She felt herself sinking into the water but he held her tightly, as strong as the rocks surrounding them. She could feel his heart beating fast against her chest almost at the same pace as hers.
It drifted into a world beyond her reality because no one had ever kissed her with this intensity. It had never crossed her mind that someone like him would want to pour all his passion inside her. It was so much more than a kiss; it felt like life. He made her feel she was the centre of their world. I deserve this, I do, I deserve to be loved by him. If only for today.
He urged her legs around his waist, one of his hefty arms locking her against him. Her muffled shriek barely bounced from the island’s cliff face when his fingers pressed against the gusset of her costume, inflaming her to the core. Oh my! Too much, too bold! But she wouldn’t have asked him to stop, even if she could give voice to the suggestion. His sheer strength was keeping them both afloat, because she wasn’t doing anything but holding onto him and allowing long buried feelings to overwhelm her. All modesty was forgotten and she was the same woman who wouldn’t have a sandwich in the street. Ignoring boats and yachts that passed them, she closed her eyes tighter, kissed him harder, barely breathing as his hand moved rapidly between her thighs, as he murmured to her in Italian.
“I don’t know what you’re saying but it sounds lovely,” she gasped.
“I am,” he translated between kisses, “saying my gorgeous Bella, my Bella. I need you.”
The trembling started in her toes, chased by the delicate sensation of hot silk ribbons stroking over her lower belly before they spread out, without warning, all over her. She allowed him to hold her still for a while, her eyes closed and her chin on his shoulder. Her heart beat at a contented purr as she noticed with surprise the water around them wasn’t bubbling with heat. This was what all the fuss was about. And what a delightful fuss it was.
“Let’s go back to the boat,” she whispered in his ear.
“Bella…”
“Condoms,” she reminded him beginning to swim back.
“Excuse me?”
Someone had to explain it to him. “I am the practice manager for a health clinic. Do you know how many people my age come in with STDs? Hard lessons learned. Pope or no Pope. Come on.”
He burst out laughing before swimming after her.
Chapter Eight
From the moment they stepped back onto the boat, wrapped in fluffy, cool towels, Massimo couldn’t believe what was happening. Belinda was now in command of the seduction. There was something in the sea. Had to be. Because it was Belinda who took his hand and marched them into the bathroom of the main cabin, closing the door behind them. He went to reach for her, pull her into him, relish the realisation of his fantasy, only to be stopped with a palm to his chest.
“Shower.”
“Bella…”
“Don’t tell me you don’t have problems with your blood pressure. Do you know how much salt you’ve swallowed?”
Without waiting for him to respond, she turned on the shower, feeling for warmth. His eyes devoured her body, the towel slipping from her like a Reuben’s painting. The beauty of her was not just in the exaggerated tempting curve of her powerful buttocks, but the rich, velvet-smooth skin of her back. He stepped closer and saw the hairs on her shoulders had bleached a bright, burnished gold in the sunshine. The arch look she gave him stirred his cock from hard into unrelenting stone. “Come on. You can wash my hair.”
“That will do to start,” he murmured, entering into the shower more than big enough for the both of them. Massimo didn’t believe in excess space. She uncurled his hand from around her waist and placed a bottle of shampoo in it.
“The cleaner I am, the happier I will be.”
“Incentives, very good.” His hands skated over her wet skin. “But I already have you exactly where I want you.”
Her shudder echoed through his own flesh the second his mouth touched her ear. “You’ll like it better when you do what I say. Don’t make me repeat myself.”
She rolled her shoulders, pressing her sweet ass to his nude groin, tilting her head back to him. If she hadn’t given him such a stern command, the woman would be bent at the waist with his cock buried deep inside her. Warming the shampoo into his palms and simultaneously telling his body to behave like he had control of his faculties, he smoothed the liquid through the silk strands of Belinda’s hair. The moans of appreciation coincided with the rolls his fingers made over her scalp, the nero of the strands swirling with the bright white foam and the butter glazed tan of his skin. She wriggled against him and he thrust his hips out of her reach.
“Trust me, I will not stop to let you wash the soap out of your eyes if you are not careful.”
“I thought you wanted me to think you’re nice?”
“I am nice. I am also desperate to have you.”
“Oh that feels wonderful,” she part growled, when his thumbs pressed enticingly over the back of her neck.
“God,” he whispered. “That is enough, your hair is clean.”
She turned to face him, his cock brushing over her silken hip only to arch her back under the spray of water, allowing the suds to slide over acres of smooth brown flesh. Of their own accord, his hands cupped her head, gently squeezing the soap away.
“Clean?” he asked, lightly touching his lips to hers.
“No.”
With a grunt of disappointment, he took a bottle of one of the shower gels and quickly rubbed the foam over his body.
“And what about me?”
“If you touch me now, neither of us will have anything to remember.”
She raked both hands through her wet hair, finger combing in conditioner whilst lifting her dark rosette nipples tantalisingly into his vision. “I can at least do your back?”
“No,” he muttered. Stroking his huge palms over luscious flesh, he explored every dimple, every swell, and every valley that made her a visual and tactile feast before he arched her back to leave her hair slicked from her forehead.
“Are you all right?” she asked, tilting her head back to look at him. “Your thing looks painful.”
He halted. “I beg your pardon?”
“Your thingymebob.” She indicated his cock, angry, red and pressed insistently against her soft belly.
“Bella,” he said slowly. “I am a man. This is my cazzo. Say cazzo.”
“Cazzo,” she responded with perfect inflection.
Ah, what pleasure to hear his pure Belinda say something rather dirty in his own language! “Say chiavare.”
“What?”
“It is what we are going to do,” he murmured, the tips of his fingers circling her nipple, coaxing her into doing his bid. “Chiavare.”
She repeated the word with the slightest stroke over the head of his cock. He sucked in his breath through his teeth. “Say fuckstick.”
Belinda burst out laughing. “What in God’s name!”
“I would like to hear you say it because it is ridiculous.”
Giggling she said, “All right, you have a very nice looking fuckstick.”
“Baciami,” he whispered.
“English, Massimo.”
“I said, kiss me.�
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She sent him the slightest of frowns before turning off the shower. “Why are you giving me orders? I know what I’m doing.” To prove her point, she pressed her thumb along the weeping slit of his cock. He gripped her arms as the sensation rocketed through him.
Gently, he tugged her hand from his sex and pulled her into his arms. “It is because you do know what you are doing that I must take control. Now kiss me.”
Everything forgotten with Massimo’s mouth against her own, Belinda sank into his kiss. He felt glorious against her, firm muscle, all heat and wet hardness. All hers. Just for today. He coaxed her out of the shower and picked up huge, soft bath sheets. They dried each other off with towels in between giddy kisses that Massimo pressed to various parts of her body, following where the towel had touched. She shrieked to feel the loops of cotton brushing back and forth over her mons, then lower. It was the gentlest sort of torture and it felt amazing.
In revenge, she wrapped a towel clad hand over his cock, stroking once, with a wicked smile lifting her lips. Massimo pulled her closer and gave her one, fearsome slap to the bottom. It echoed over both cheeks his hand was so large.
“Do not tempt me any more than you already have.”
His warning didn’t faze her one little bit, until he pulled her into the main cabin. Now she was in proximity of a bed, a long held modesty made Belinda want to turn off all the lights and dive beneath the covers. But instead, he sat in the centre of the bed and pulled her on top of him. He continued to look her in the eyes while he worshipfully caressed her flesh with his broad palms. She understood why he did so. He was testing her reactions to his touch, attempting to find the particular part of her to make her arch into him, her eyes darken, her mouth part in response. It didn’t seem to make much difference, because wherever he touched her, she laughed. Not that she could help herself, it was so completely beyond what she could have ever dreamed up about him.
She’d never had much sensation in her breasts due to their size or lack of attention paid to them, either one she had no idea, but she was genuinely amazed when he took a nipple into the heat of his mouth, then gently bit down, for a shriek to burst from her throat. The spike of his teeth in her breast shot straight to her pussy. He followed the bite with a stroke of his tongue, his dark head against her chest. Both his hands curved into the small of her back as he cradled her in his lap. He felt as hard and hot as a curling iron between her pussy lips, trying to slip inside, but her body simply refused to let him.