RossellinisRevengeAffair

by Rossellini's Revenge Affair (lit)

  She traced the outline of his lips with her tongue, then delved inside the dark velvet of his mouth, relishing the taste and texture of him. He returned the pleasure, stroking his hands over her body, leaving incendiary traces in his wake. She moaned as he stroked the indentation at the top of her thighs with a feather light touch. His gentleness drove her crazy. She tilted her pelvis, pushing her hips against his hands, silently begging for more. She felt his smile against her lips, felt the pressure of his fingers increase as they stroked ever closer to the bundle of nerve endings that craved his touch.

  She bucked as he grazed across the hooded nub, once, twice, a third time, before circling the tiny bead of flesh with increasing pressure. Her orgasm burst out of nowhere. One second she was relishing the sensation of his lips against hers, his touch at her most private parts, the next she was catapulted into paroxysms of pleasure that left her gasping and trembling in their wake.

  Before she could gather her scattered thoughts he was inside her again, filling and stretching her, rocking her with an ever increasing beat that satisfied every primitive instinct known to man. She felt his body stiffen, his back arch. Felt the hot spurt of his seed as he came apart inside her body.

  He collapsed against her, his body slick with perspiration.

  “I am glad you are on the Pill, for I think it will take all night for me to finish with you,” he whispered in the shell of her ear.

  Lana stiffened. On the Pill? Where did he get that idea? She forced her mind back to when she’d told him that she was safe. Clearly he’d misunderstood. She stroked her hand down the length of his spine, then back up again.

  “I’m not on the Pill, Raffaele, but I am safe.”

  He pulled away from her slightly, his eyes dark and full of questions. “You are on some other form of contraception?”

  “No. I’m not.”

  He started to withdraw, a look of shock on his face. She gripped him and held him to her.

  “Don’t. Don’t worry. It isn’t a problem. Truly. I told you I’m safe.”

  “How can you be safe when you take no contraception?” The shock in his voice illustrated his growing fear and alienation from her.

  Lana hesitated, she needed to tell him the truth but she could barely enunciate the words. She wanted to be feminine in his arms, not a failure. If she told him, would he think any less of her, as Kyle so obviously had? Even if this was only for tonight, she deserved the whole night, surely.

  “Why do you not answer? Have you lied to me?” His voice grew hard. “I will not be tricked.”

  “There is no trick. I can’t have a baby. I’m infertile. It’s why Kyle—”

  Raffaele placed a finger across her lips. “Shh, do not bring him into the bed with us again tonight. Say no more of this. I’m sorry I grew so angry. I did not understand. Now I do. Tonight we forget everything, everyone. Tonight we are alone.”

  Lana nodded, her eyes bright with tears. She could hold on to tonight. There was no need for why; no need to make it harder than it had to be. After a lifetime of planning and shattered dreams she knew better than anyone else now how important it was to take the moment. So she did.

  Ten

  Lana woke the next morning in a tangle of sheets and masculine limbs. Gently she eased herself from Raffaele’s sleeping clasp and stood at the edge of the bed looking down at him. What now, she wondered. Would they go back to how they’d been before? Polite strangers?

  A strong dark arm snaked out and grabbed her by the hand, pulling her off balance and back onto the rumpled bed and into his arms, against the heat of his chest.

  “Buon giorno.” He didn’t smile, but the flame in his eyes left her in no doubt that ‘polite strangers’ was the furthest thing from his mind right now. “I want you again, Lana, but first, we shower.”

  He rose from the bed and scooped her in his arms. She felt deliciously fragile in his grasp. She reached up to kiss him and they didn’t so much as break apart as he strode into the bathroom and set her feet on the floor. His erection pressed against her belly as he reached beyond her to switch on the dual shower jets in the stall.

  Lana took the lead, and stepped inside the shower, relishing the cascade of warm water down her back. She reached for the soap and lathered her hands.

  “Let me wash you,” she said, almost shyly as Raffaele stepped inside with her. It was different being with him like this in the cold light of morning. Under the cloak of last night’s darkness, they had been anonymous to each other. Now, she felt as if she was bare to the world.

  “Do with me what you will,” he rumbled in reply.

  Lana took him at his word, and turned him around to lather soap across the back of his shoulders and down his back to his buttocks and further down his legs. Then, slowly, she worked her way back up his legs, until she reached his inner thighs. Gently she reached between and massaged his balls. They were tight and firm and she smiled as she withdrew only to hear Raffaele’s groan at her abandonment of her attention to that part of his anatomy.

  “Turn around again,” she commanded softly.

  He did as he was bade and Lana’s mouth dried as he faced her and stared at her with a hunger in his eyes that built her confidence to a higher threshold than she’d believed she could possess. She reached for the soap, without breaking eye contact, and slowly lathered her hands up again, letting her fingers entangle with one another in enticing promise. His breathing quickened as she reached forward and began anew at his shoulders, tracing tiny whorls in the soap as she caressed his chest, and grazed her nails across his dark flat nipples. This time her path down his body was punctuated with tiny suckling kisses as the water sluiced away the suds.

  She worked her way lower, and lower still, until she knelt before him and carefully washed his straining erection, stroking the velvet length of him, allowing the water to rinse away the remainder of the foam. She held him firmly at his base, then gently closed her lips around his swollen head, swirling her tongue around and around before taking him deeper into her mouth. Again and again, she repeated the motion, reaching with her other hand to cup his balls and gently squeeze them as she suckled his tip.

  “Stop!” His voice was rough as gravel.

  “Am I hurting you?” Lana looked up at him.

  “No. I just can’t take anymore. I want to be inside you. Let me be inside you.”

  His plea spoke to her on a level she’d never known before. She let him help her to her feet.

  “But first,” he continued, “let me wash you. Let me torment you as you torment me.”

  He wasted no time spreading soap over her body, circling her breasts until she was nearly screaming at him to touch her nipples, to pull at them, kiss them, anything to release the tension that wound ever tighter within her. He directed the shower spray to rinse away the bubbles and closed his mouth over one distended nipple, his teeth pulling gently at the tender flesh while his tongue flicked against its surface. With one hand his fingers reached to roll its twin, squeezing firmly but gently so that her knees threatened to buckle as sensation poured through her. With his other hand he gently washed between her legs until she lost perception of where the powerful electric arcs radiating through her body came from.

  He straightened, and kissed her, their heads under the cascading jets of the shower, the freshness of the water mingling with their own flavour. He cupped her buttocks with strong hands, kneading her flesh before lifting her to him.

  Instinctively Lana wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms about his shoulders as he lowered her onto his erection, sliding within her with deliberate control. He leaned her against the shower wall, directing the shower spray between them at the apex where they joined, and thrust deeper, his hips pumping faster and faster until she screamed in release. With one final thrust he reached his climax and through her own haze of pleasure, Lana watched as he gave himself over to fulfilment.

  Raffaele rested his forehead against her, his body still trembling from the force of
his climax. He pulled himself from within her and supported her as she released her legs from around his waist and slid them to the base of the shower. Making love with Lana had brought him to greater heights of pleasure than he thought his body could sustain and still remain conscious. In a desperate attempt to soothe his mind of the worry and responsibility that beset him he’d made a plea to her. He’d asked for the night, she’d given him so much more than that with her generous body.

  Now, the night was well and truly over. They had to face the day. He reached out to switch off the shower and then grabbed a heated towel from the rail to dry her thoroughly. She seemed incapable of speech. He felt much the same. As he painstakingly stroked every inch of her body dry he saw the flush of heat that infused a rosy glow on her skin, saw her nipples tighten, felt the heat and moisture that gathered again at her centre. His own body began to tighten in anticipation, but Raffaele drew a tight rein on his instincts. All he’d wanted was the night. A few hours of mindless surcease. He’d had that and now he needed to move on.

  In his bedroom, the phone started to ring.

  “I’ll get that, you go and get ready for the move out to the house.” He wrapped the towel around Lana’s body tight, more to prevent himself from reaching out to touch her one more time than to provide her with privacy. After what they’d shared there was no room for embarrassment between them. Even though he knew he could not repeat their actions again. Last night had been an aberration for him. It would not happen again.

  “Okay, I’ll order breakfast when I’m dressed, then we’d best be on our way,” Lana agreed.

  The call was the transport company confirming the delivery time of the new items Lana had ordered. Between them they were ready, finished packing, checked out of the hotel and on the road back out to Whitford within the hour.

  By evening, Raffaele was surprised to find how much like a home it already felt. Lana had organised a cleaning crew to spring clean the property the day before and she put fresh cut flowers in many of the rooms. It was time for a celebratory drink. He uncorked a bottle of Australian red wine, poured two glasses and went in search of Lana. He hadn’t seen her now for about an hour, although he knew that while he’d unpacked his cases and hung his clothes in one of the large dressing rooms in the master suite she supervised the setting up of the baby’s nursery. He’d stepped in to look at one point and was surprised to see her ordering the delivery crew about with the precision of a drill sergeant on parade.

  He ascended the stairs a glass in each hand and covered the distance to the nursery with a silent tread on the thick woollen carpet. A noise from the nursery alerted him to her presence, a noise he couldn’t quite identify. Not quite knowing what to expect, he pushed open the door. At one glance he could see she’d transformed the room from a guest bedroom into a fully equipped nursery. Each item from one of those lists of hers had a place here in the room, but what stopped him in his tracks was the sight of her seated in the rocking chair, an oversized brown bear with a pink ribbon at its neck clutched tightly to her chest and a look of grief on her face so raw, so deep, it cut him to the quick.

  He quickly placed the wine glasses on the top of the tall chest of drawers to one side of the room, and dropped to his knees in front of her. She barely acknowledged him as he took one of her hands in his.

  “Lana, tell me. What is it?”

  “It’s too hard, Raffaele. I can’t do it. It just hurts too much.”

  “What are you talking about? You’ve done marvellous work here today.”

  She lifted her head to face him, the flat emptiness in her eyes shocking him to his core.

  “I mean it. You have no idea of what you’re asking of me, of what it’s doing to me inside.”

  “So tell me. Make me understand.” She couldn’t renege on her promise now. A part of him wanted to give vent to the instinctive and reactive anger her words fuelled deep inside, but reason told him to stop and listen. Reason and a sudden desire to know more, understand more.

  “I’ve done all this before. Created a nursery, chosen every last piece of equipment, clothing, bedding, towels—and had to give it all away when I couldn’t have a child of my own. This has brought it all back to me again. The wanting, and not having. Do you have any idea of what its like to be told you can’t have a child? To be told you’re imperfect, not completely whole? You take so much for granted your whole life and then out of the blue, one day you’re told you can’t be what you want to be, you can’t do what you want to do.

  “Kyle and I went through every possible procedure you can imagine to conceive, but it was all futile. All along I was the one who was flawed, I was the one who failed us both. I’d forced myself to forget what it felt like, to forget how much I’d wanted a baby.”

  “You did not try adoption?” Raffaele asked quietly, his fingers stroking the back of her hand.

  “Kyle wouldn’t hear of it. He said we didn’t need to have a baby to be a family. That we were enough. That I was enough for him. But I wasn’t, was I? I wasn’t enough. If he’d been telling me the truth he wouldn’t have fallen in love with your sister. He wouldn’t have fathered a child with her.”

  She pulled her hand free and pushed out of the rocking chair to walk over to a shelving unit filled with soft toys. Into the final space she inserted the teddy she’d been hugging to her body as if it could heal the emptiness Raffaele knew scored her inside. The words she’d painted of Kyle showed a different side to the smooth and urbane businessman he’d introduced to Maria. Had he inadvertently set the chain of events in motion that had led to Lana’s devastation, both financially and emotionally?

  He could not doubt the veracity of her words. The truth spoke in every syllable that fell from her lips. The extent of what she had gone through today showed in every line of her body. He could sympathise with what she was going through, he’d be inhuman not to acknowledge her pain. But one thing and one thing drove him and, from her, he had to know.

  “You are not withdrawing from our arrangement?” His voice was colder than he’d intended, more direct.

  She took in a deep breath and faced him. “You would let me pull out?”

  “Of course not.” Not in a million years would he fail to fulfil his promise to his sister.

  “Then no, I’m not withdrawing. But don’t expect too much of me, please.”

  “I have already contacted a nanny service to ensure the physical needs of my niece are met. As we stated before, your contribution is purely legal. I do not expect any emotional involvement from you.”

  A bitter smile twisted her lips. “That’s it then. I know exactly where I stand. Just one thing, though, Raffaele. What about us? Where do I stand with you?”

  “I do not expect any emotional involvement from you either.”

  The smile froze on her face and slowly faded away completely. As she turned and left the room Raffaele couldn’t help but wonder if he’d said the right thing. The words had tasted bitter in his mouth, like a lie. But he couldn’t afford to second guess himself. Not anymore. During his visit to the hospital yesterday Maria’s condition had begun to deteriorate.

  He collected the wine glasses from the dresser and went back downstairs. There would be no celebration tonight.

  Raffaele listened to the grandfather clock at the foot of the staircase chime the hour and cursed his inability to sleep. The evening had been peaceful enough. Lana had prepared a simple meal for them which they’d eaten together in the informal dining area off the large family room. She’d retired early and, after completing some work on his laptop, he’d done the same. Sleep had seemed so close, as he slid naked between the Egyptian cotton bed sheets. But now his senses were assailed with the hint of Lana’s fragrance, leaving an indelible imprint of her presence in the room from when she’d made up the bed.

  Without realising he’d made a conscious decision to do so he was out of the bed and had pulled on a pair of pyjama bottoms. His bare feet were soundless as they traversed the stairs a
nd the distance to the downstairs guest suite she’d chosen as her room. No doubt believing herself as far removed from Raffaele and the nursery as possible.

  It wasn’t far enough, he thought, that he couldn’t give into the hunger she’d aroused in him. A hunger he’d tried to quench with what he’d believed was their final encounter this morning. But all it had done was kindle his appetite for more. She was in his blood and his only hope was to purge this hunger by satiating himself in her body until the desire burned itself out.

  At the door to her rooms he hesitated and listened. There was only silence on the other side. For a moment he wondered if he was doing the right thing to be seeking to lose himself in her arms, her body, her heat. It was the total opposite of what he’d set out to do with Lana Whittaker. But for some reason, it was only with her that he could retreat from the weight of his responsibilities, from the growing burden of knowledge that Maria would not be alive for much longer.