Dr. Orgasm (A Holiday Romance Collection Book 2)

by Michelle Love

  “It’s okay, dude,” the other man had said sadly. “There are no winners here. Tell Inca I hope she feels better soon.”

  “Come see her,” Raffaelo had urged him. “I know she’d like to see you.” He had looked across the room to where Olly was slumped in a chair. “I know she’d like to see a friend before we leave for Italy.”

  Raffaelo had told Inca all of this as they flew to Sorrento, a few days after she was released from the hospital. Knox had kept his promise and visited her, and he too had told her that Olly didn’t want to see her.

  Inca was sad, but resigned. “Just tell him I’m sorry, and I love him, and I still love Luna.”

  “I will, sweetheart.”

  They’d hugged each other tightly and Inca had felt moved to tears. “I’m so sorry about everything, Knox.”

  “It’s not your fault, baby. Everything is just fucked up.” He let her go and studied her. “You okay? What’s Tyler doing?”

  “He said he’s going to stay with Nancy’s family for a while. He doesn’t want to come back here yet either.”

  Knox sighed. “Just tell me you won’t disappear forever, Inca.”

  “I promise.”

  Inca called Tyler in Connecticut after lunch. It was still early there, and her adoptive father sounded depressed and lonely. “Come to Sorrento,” Inca begged him, but he demurred.

  “No, sweetheart. I think it’s best if you stay there and be happy with Tommaso. Your mother would not want you to be in Willowbrook. I’m staying in Connecticut for the time being. Nancy’s nieces and nephews seem to want me here. They love Boomer too.”

  “I miss you, Popsicle,” she whispered, and she heard him let out a shaky breath.

  “I miss you too, Bubba. And I don’t want you blaming yourself for any of this.”

  But she did blame herself—how could she not? Raffaelo, seeing her blue mood, suggested they go into the city and distract themselves. Tommaso told them he was flying to Milan that afternoon for a meeting.

  “Since when?” Raffaelo looked startled. Tommaso smiled.

  “I’ve neglected my work for too long, and there’s a chance we could get a meeting with the government’s environmental department at last. I have to be there for that. Hey.” He kissed Inca softly. “Promise me you’ll miss me?”

  “You know I will,” she whispered, and pressed her lips to his.

  “When will you be back?” Raffaelo waited for them to draw apart before asking.

  Tommaso rubbed a hand through his hair.

  “I think tomorrow night, but could be longer. You’ll be okay?”

  Raffaelo grinned. “Of course. Look, call us when you get in.”

  “I will.”

  Raffaelo and Inca walked through the streets of the city before finding another café to sit in. Inca looked around it. “You know, I do miss running the teahouse,” she said quietly. “I used to love the social aspect more than anything, but also the smell of the teas, the organization. I miss working.”

  Raffaelo stroked his hand down her cheek. “You know, we could always open a teahouse here. I’m tired of running clubs— I’m about fifteen years too old to be in them, for one thing. Maybe we could open a chain.”

  Inca smiled. “Ambitious.”

  Raffaelo grinned. “Okay, so I took the idea and ran with it. How about, then, we just open one? Totally your baby.”

  “I do have the money from the Sakura.”

  “No,” he said. “That’s your nest egg. Let me finance it.”

  Inca pondered. “Halves?”

  Raffaelo rolled his eyes. “Fine. Let me just …”

  He trailed off, suddenly staring over the other side of the small square. Inca followed his vision. “What is it?”

  Raffaelo’s eyes raked the street then he shook his head. “No, sorry. I just thought I saw someone.”

  “Who?”

  “It doesn’t matter. Sorry, anyway, yes. So we’ll go scout some locations around the city … in fact, why don’t we do that now?”

  He seemed in a hurry to move, and Inca didn’t question him. They strolled hand-in-hand, trying to spot empty storefronts or other suitable locations, but by the time they ate dinner at a local eatery, Inca felt tired, just wanting to go back to the villa.

  She took a long soak as Raffaelo caught up with some business calls. She was just drying herself when he came into the bathroom and stopped, his eyes soft on hers.

  “So beautiful,” he said simply, and she went into his arms, feeling his hands roaming over her bare skin.

  Tonight would be the first time since they had been a threesome that Raffaelo and Inca would spend the night alone and she knew he was as excited as she was. She reached down to cup his cock through his pants. Already she could feel how swollen and hot it was.

  “Put that inside me, Raffaelo Winter,” she whispered and, with a growl, he carried her to the bed, shedding his own clothes quickly. His cock stood proud and thick against his belly as he covered her body with his own. Inca stroked his face.

  “What do you want to do to me, Raffaelo?”

  “Everything,” he groaned, gathering her to him. His lips were rough against hers, his cock already nudging at the entrance to her cunt as he thrust inside her, not able to prolong his desire anymore.

  Inca took him in, her nails digging into his buttocks, urging him deeper, her gaze fixed on his. “Fuck me hard, Raff,” she gasped, and he obeyed, slamming his hips into hers, stretching her legs wider. His mouth clamped onto her shoulder, his teeth biting down, causing pain, but she cried out, begging him not to stop as they fucked.

  Animal instincts took them over; Raffaelo, keeping his focus on her, reached into the nightstand and pulled out one of the dildos they used, sliding it into her ass as his cock reamed her vagina mercilessly. She clawed at his back and bit his lower lip with her teeth, drawing blood. It was as if they wanted to merge and sink into the other, however painful it might be.

  They came quickly, then Raffaelo tugged her to the floor, grabbing a silk tie and binding her hands behind her back. He pressed her legs apart and clamped his mouth over her sex, his tongue hungrily seeking her clit, before plunging deep into her cunt. Unable to touch him, Inca moaned and wriggled with pleasure; his hands roamed over her belly; his thumb fucked her navel in rhythm with his tongue in her cunt.

  Raffaelo felt like a man possessed. Not giving her the chance to recover between orgasms, he flipped her onto her stomach and thrust into her ass, fucking her hard until she cried out with pain and pleasure. He felt animal, feral in his desire, his desperation for her limitless. And when his cock slammed back into her cunt, he felt himself explode inside her, his thick cum shooting deep into her belly.

  “God, Inca … Jesus …” Raffaelo collapsed on top of her, freeing her hands. Inca’s body was undulating with her breathlessness, but she grinned at him.

  “Raff … have you ever fucked in public? Or at least somewhere where you might get caught?”

  Raffaelo chuckled. “Feeling kinky, Miss Sardee?”

  “Always.”

  “Well,” he said, “we can certainly explore that. My club in the city has an office upstairs with a two-way mirror … when the room is dark, no one in the club can see, but we can see everything.”

  “Hmm.” Inca pushed him onto his back and straddled him. “Now that sounds like something we should definitely try.”

  Raffaelo chuckled and pulled her face down so he could kiss her. “I love you, Inca Sardee.”

  Inca nuzzled his nose. Then, as she impaled herself on his huge cock, she gave a happy sigh. “I love you, Raffaelo Winter … more than you will ever know …”

  When Inca was asleep, and when Raffaelo was able to drag himself away from her, he walked down to his study and closed the door behind him. He called the head of his security team and asked him to meet him.

  The man, Pietro, nodded to him as he entered the study. “What’s up, boss?”

  Raffaelo indicated he should sit. “Has
anyone from my father’s team been in contact with you?”

  “Not as far as I know. Why?”

  “Because I think I saw a couple of his goons follow Inca and me earlier. I hardly need to tell you I don’t want my father anywhere near Inca—or Tommaso, when he returns. I’m concerned they may try to take Inca to mess with us.”

  Pietro made a disgusted noise. He had known Raffaelo and Tommaso since they were kids, and he was unfailingly loyal to the twins; their father was another matter, and Pietro had no time for the man. Edgar Winter was, in Pietro’s opinion, a nasty piece of work; jealous of his sons’ looks, tastes, and talents, he excelled in trying to destroy his offspring’s confidence and lives.

  “We won’t let that happen, Raff; I promise. But we won’t be able to prevent your father coming to the house; it does still belong to the family.”

  Raffaelo looked unhappy. “I know. Just make sure his security knows that Inca is off-limits.”

  “No problem. You know, if he’s here, then at least we can be sure to keep an eye on him.”

  “Right. I just worry about Tommaso’s reaction. Thank you, Pietro.”

  He went back to bed, curving his body around Inca’s. Although he had made his peace with sharing her with Tommaso–after all, he had been the cheater this time—this time alone with her was precious. She had entirely invaded his heart and mind; there wasn’t a second he wasn’t thinking about her or their future.

  Except … how could he think of their future? How would it work? While they were young and free, yes, they could revel in their unusual relationship. But what about when marriage and kids were an issue?

  Raffaelo sighed and buried his face in her hair, breathing in the scent of her shampoo, of her skin. For now, he would enjoy the fact that they were safe; that no one here would try to kill her … back in Washington, he had lived every day in terror that she would be murdered. That terrible night when she’d been shot …

  Inca murmured in her sleep and turned around, snuggling into his arms. Half-asleep, her lips sought his, and as soon as her skin touched his, his cock responded, growing thick and huge.

  “Bella … do you want me?” He wasn’t even sure if she was awake, but, without opening her eyes, she nodded, and slowly hooked her leg over his hip so he could slide inside her. Raffaelo moved slowly, carefully, not wanting to break the spell of this dream-like coupling.

  She whispered his name so softly, with so much love that his cock swelled inside her and he moved his hand down to caress her clit, intent on giving her the mellowest orgasm he could. His own was building, a slow burn in his belly, as he trailed his lips across her soft skin, kissing her closed eyelids and the sweet swell of her cheeks.

  Inca tensed and sighed through her climax, giving a soft moan that sent Raffaelo over the edge. Feeling himself cum deep within her, he allowed himself a fantasy that his child was conceived and that Inca would be his alone. He wanted more than anything to be with this woman forever—to have her to himself— but he would never tell her or Tommaso that. They were the two people he loved more than anything in this world and he would not cause them pain.

  So, he swallowed his own pain, and reveled in these small moments, just enjoying the fact their life here in Italy was the happiest he’d ever been.

  But, of course, it didn’t stay that way for long.

  Edgar Winter took the envelope from his head of security and opened it. The photographs were sharp and focused. Edgar started to smile. His son, Raffaelo, with a dark-haired beauty—God, she was something else—sitting in the middle of Sorrento, none the wiser that they were being watched. His son was kissing the beauty, his face soft with love.

  “Who’s the girl?”

  “Her name is Inca Sardee. American, from Washington State. I did some digging; apparently, she was injured in a shooting recently. As well, an ex-husband tried to kill her. Her mother was murdered too not long ago. Adopted mother, I should say. The birth mother was also murdered, but Ms. Sardee never knew her.”

  Edgar raised an eyebrow. “That’s a pretty horrific history. What does she want with my son?”

  The security man smiled nastily, his eyes triumphant. “Sons,” he corrected, and handed him another photograph. This one wasn’t so clear, taken from a distance through a window. What was unmistakable though, was that Inca Sardee was being thoroughly and enthusiastically fucked by both of his sons.

  “Well, well, well.” Edgar was almost giddy with glee. “My boys have gotten themselves a whore.”

  His security head grinned. “Looker, too.”

  Yes, she was. Edgar studied the photograph; her body was curvy and full, her skin beautiful, her long dark hair tumbling down her back. He looked at his guard. “I think it’s time I reconnected with my boys—and their lovely companion. Make the arrangements, would you?”

  Washington State …

  Belinda Clements hesitated before she pushed open the door to the police station. It had been years since she had spoken to Oliver Rosenbaum—years since she’d gotten him drunk and fucked him. He’d been so angry at himself the next morning and had warned her not to tell Inca. She had laughed in his face, but inside … she hadn’t told Inca. Why?

  Because she hadn’t wanted to burn her bridges with Olly. She’d been crazy about him since they were kids, only to see him with her mortal enemy, Inca Sardee. Belinda had always hated her for her beauty, her warmth and intelligence, and the way she was popular with everybody. It was sickening. When she heard that Inca had been shot, she cheered at the television. When she’d heard who the shooter was … God, the smile disappeared.

  So she was here now, a couple of months after Luna’s death. A decent interval. Inca had recovered, but had been spirited away by her Italian billionaires (God, that rankled), which left Olly all alone. She’d heard, via town gossips, that he was focusing entirely on work and was pushing everyone else away.

  Knox Westerwick was on the telephone, and didn’t even look up as she went in. Olly was pouring himself a coffee, but stopped when he saw her. Belinda smiled at him.

  “Hi, Olly.”

  “Hey.” His voice showed his surprise. “How long have you been back in town?”

  “A while.”

  There was an awkward silence, then Olly nodded towards the coffee pot. “Want some?”

  “Yes, please.”

  She took the coffee from him, then asked if she could talk to him for a while. He looked surprised. “Sure.”

  “How are you?” Belinda blew on her coffee to cool it and looked up at him. Olly shifted a little uncomfortably.

  “You know. Getting there. Keeping busy.”

  “I’m so sorry, Olly. I would have come before, but I thought you might want to be alone.”

  Olly gave her a strange smile. “And we haven’t seen each other in what? Ten years?”

  “Ten years? Really? God, time goes so quickly.”

  Olly studied her. “What have you been up to?”

  Belinda smiled sheepishly. “Married twice, divorced twice. Could never stick at it. You? I heard you and Inca split.”

  Olly’s eyes took on a guarded look and he glanced away. “That didn’t stick either … but that was my fault, not Inca’s.”

  He was obviously waiting for her to say something bitchy about his ex, but Belinda shook her head. “I feel bad for the way I used to treat her. Put it this way … I know better now. I wouldn’t say we’d ever be friends but … is she still away?”

  Olly nodded, seeming to be relieved that Belinda was being pleasant. “Yes. After … what happened, she didn’t want to be around this place anymore. Can’t say I blame her.”

  Belinda put her hand on his. “No one would judge you if … well, never mind. Look, I wanted to say hi … maybe we could grab a drink one evening?”

  Olly hesitated, glancing over at Knox, who was studiously ignoring them, then nodded. “Sure. Why not?”

  Belinda smiled. “I’ll call you. Soon, though, okay?”

  “Su
re.”

  Olly sat back in his chair, not knowing what to make of Belinda Clement’s visit. She certainly seemed … changed? Was that the right word? But he remembered all the times she and Inca had clashed, right from childhood, and he’d always had Inca’s back. So why was Belinda reaching out to him now? Did she sense that he was still raw from Luna’s suicide and see it as an opportunity to stick the knife in Inca’s back? He winced at that. Way wrong expression, dude. Knox had disappeared from the office, called out to an incident, and suddenly Olly wanted to talk to his oldest friend, his old love. He glanced at the clock. It would be early evening in Italy.

  Only hesitating for a second, he pulled out his cellphone and dialed. When he heard her warm voice, he knew he had made the right decision.

  “Hi,” he said, softly. “It’s me.”

  Inca was so happy that Olly had called her that her mood infected dinner. Tommaso had returned, and she and Raffaelo told him about their plans to open a teahouse in the city.

  Tommaso smiled. “I think that’s a great idea. I know how bored you’ve been.” He grinned mischievously as she laughed.

  “Oh, yes. So bored.”

  “Actually, Tommaso, we have an invitation for you.” Raffaelo tried to hide his smile as Inca giggled. “How would you like to come clubbing with us?”

  Tommaso looked surprised. “Really?”

  The other two laughed. “Yes,” Inca said. “We have … a plan.”

  “Okay.” He looked suspicious. “Will I like it?”

  “Oh, I promise, you will love it.”

  They took a cab into the city at ten p.m. Raffaelo’s club was packed with party-goers, the atmosphere sweaty and sultry, drinks flowing. The three of them stayed downstairs for a while, drinking and dancing, grinding up on each other. Inca was wearing a short, dark maroon dress, which clung to her full breasts and flared out at the waist, a simple long gold chain her only jewelry, her long dark hair tumbling in waves to her waist. She was a happy drunk, and Raffaelo nudged his brother as they watched her dance.