Blue-Blooded Romeo (The Royal Romeos #6)

by Jenny Gardiner

  Stella closed her eyes and let herself sink into the sensations, his warm, wet tongue licking and sucking on her nipple, his teeth occasionally nipping the tip. If she was going to live for the moment, she was going to enjoy the hell out of it. And tomorrow? Well, she’d cross that bridge when she got to it.

  Chapter Ten

  Domenico wanted to make this last. He hadn’t been with a woman in quite a while. Somehow the distractions of his little life crisis seemed to have put women on the back burner. At the moment he was trying to understand how he’d made such a terrible lapse in judgment because shit, being pressed flesh to flesh with the soft, warm curves of this woman was about to make him come prematurely if he didn’t get a handle on himself.

  He looked up at Stella as if for guidance. Her eyes were momentarily closed but she seemed to be in a state of pleasure, her lips parted in a smile, her cheeks flushed, so he took that as silent approval. He shifted himself down her body, nipping and licking and sucking and biting as he trailed his mouth along her soft belly and her hips, meandering his way toward that thong he couldn’t wait to rid her of. He pulled on the thin straps at her hips and discarded it quickly, then traced his mouth down her bare mound, his tongue finding her clit and circling it teasingly. Stella cried out and he paused to catch her eye. She smiled, a look of bliss on her face, and he winked at her and used his tongue to trace a long lap along her lips, already moist with her juices. He moaned. How he was going to last was hard to fathom.

  With both hands, he parted her lips and took his time savoring the view before inserting first one then two fingers inside her, hooking them forward to press toward that elusive G-spot, which he knew would bring her to climax. He took long, wide strokes of his tongue along her wet center, occasionally circling her swollen clit, his fingers moving at a steady pace deeper inside of her.

  Stella’s breath was coming faster and her hips gyrated to the rhythm of his hands pumping into her body. With a loud moan, she suddenly held still, her body shuddering as she coaxed her orgasm to conclusion. Domenico sat up, licked his lips, and locked eyes with her.

  “Please tell me you have something,” she said, a pleading look in her eyes.

  He reached for his pants, pulled a condom from his wallet, and repositioned himself between her spread legs.

  “You’re killing me with that view, you know.” He grinned.

  “You’re killing me with that hard-on, you know,” she said, laughing.

  “Does it meet with your approval? I know you’d made some presumptions based on, shall we say, external evidence.”

  She laughed. “Oh my God. Will I never live that down?” She pulled him toward her and pressed her mouth to his, dragging her lips, lapping up what remained of her juices.

  “Fuck, Stella, that is such a turn-on.”

  “You ain’t seen nothin’ yet.” She pushed him backward against the mattress and straddled one of his legs as she took her turn trailing her mouth along his chest, stopping to nip at his nipples, tracing her tongue along his hard abs, and following the happy trail of hair that led to her ultimate destination. She wrapped a hand around his swollen cock and pressed her tongue to the tip before closing her lips around the head and sucking him hard.

  Domenico thrust his hips toward her mouth and pressed his hands to her hair, not wanting his cock to lose a second of contact with her warm, soft mouth. He pumped into her as she took as much of his cock in as she could until he couldn’t stand it another second and pulled out.

  “How do you want it, baby?” he said as he rolled the condom on, not wanting her to be in a position that would hurt her ankle.

  She made the decision for him as she spread her legs across his hips and settled herself over his cock, slowly sinking onto it, inch by slippery inch. They both gasped as he filled her, and their bodies were finally pressed to one another. He stilled, savoring the sensation.

  Stella rotated her hips in a grinding motion, her wet body sliding against his pelvis, and Domenico about died. “Stella, you’re killing me,” he said as she rode his cock, pulling away till they almost separated, then allowing him to spear her again with his hard length. He pulled her closer so he could latch on to her nipple, which made her move faster against him, her breathing short and hard as she rode him to another orgasm. He gave her a few seconds as her muscles tensed and squeezed against his cock and carefully flipped her, his body covering hers as he braced himself and thrust his cock into her. He picked up the pace and she spread her legs, clutched his ass, and pulled him toward her. Finally with one hard thrust, he pressed himself deep into her wet pussy and let out a loud yell as he came hard, his cock pulsating inside her body, his hips twitching as he emptied himself into her.

  ~*~

  Domenico could hear the shout of the street sweeper four stories up as he stirred right before dawn. He grabbed his phone from the nightstand where he’d left it hours earlier, and saw a calendar alert pop up that he had a breakfast meeting in exactly one hour. Which meant he had to get all the way back to his hotel in the sixth arrondissement and if he didn’t leave now, he’d be stuck in crazy rush hour traffic and never get back in time to change and make his breakfast.

  He glanced over at Stella, who was beautiful in her peaceful sleep. He hadn’t the heart to wake her only to leave. Instead he dressed quickly, figuring he’d text her as soon as his meeting was over and maybe they could meet for a coffee and spend the day together. With any luck, they could pick up right where they left off.

  Chapter Eleven

  Stella groaned as she started to stir. There were parts of her body that hadn’t been sore in ages, but that was a good sore. The bad sore was her ankle, which hurt like a mother. Speaking of mothers, a glance at her phone revealed that her mom had tried to call her last night, right about the time that Domenico was buried deep inside her, judging by the time recorded on her phone. Ugh. She hated having to have those conversations with the woman. At least if she did it before, say, noon, her time, maybe she could get her before she was slurring her words and impossible to speak with. But after that, there was no joy in dealing with her whatsoever.

  She rolled over, expecting to find Domenico there, but instead found rumpled sheets and no warm body.

  Okay... Not fair, since she was the one who planned on making the break from him. But on her terms. And preferably after a pleasant little morning wake-up call. Harrumph. That did not set well with her one bit. What was he—some sort of love ’em and leave ’em type? Minus the love bit. Lust ’em and leave ’em was more appropriate. God, she hated when men pulled that crap. It was so bogus. Like somehow they were the ones who made the damned rules. She wanted to make the rules. She wanted to blow him off. She wanted it to be her one-night stand, dammit! Was that too much to ask?

  But dayum. As her mind revisited what happened right here, in this very bed, seriously, could she have had the courage to ditch him? He was pretty darned good in the sack. And rather sweet. And her suspicions about what he was packing? Better than she imagined.

  As much as she’d have loved to have at it one more time this morning before kicking him to the curb, in reality, he spared her the awkward au revoir moment by blowing out of there as he did while she slept. It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing that he left like he did, but it made her mad that she didn’t have control over the exit.

  ~*~

  Alexa and her boyfriend, Antoine, showed their faces at around eleven as Stella’s stomach started to growl. She had nothing in the apartment to eat but she was not prepared to take the four flights of steps with her ankle swollen and bruised, so she was going to make her roomie work for her betrayal.

  “You had best have something super amazing to feed me,” Stella said. “Because otherwise, I’m going to send you right back out to get me something. You owe me, big-time, for setting me up like you did last night.”

  Alexa took a look at Stella on the sofa with a bag of ice on her ankle and frowned. “What the hell is that?”

  Ant
oine, looking perfectly French hipster with his hair in a man bun and in narrow pants, driving loafers with no socks, a white T-shirt, and a scarf wrapped around his neck, pointed at her ankle. “Did things get kinky with you and that guy, Stel? You want me to take care of him?”

  Stella rolled her eyes. “I’m sure you’d pose quite the threat to Domenico, who has a good half a foot on you. And no, things did not get kinky with us.”

  “So what’s up with that then?” Alexa said as she bent over and removed the ice to get a better look. “Hmmm... Dr. Hanigan says it looks like you have a sprain.”

  “Thanks for stating the obvious.”

  “How’d you do this? It looks sort of gnarly.”

  Stella waved her away. “It was a stupid tango accident.”

  Alexa nodded. “Of course, that explains it all. The old tango accident.”

  Stella waved her hand. “Stop. Can’t you see I’m in pain here?”

  Lexie laughed. “I was hoping you’d be suffering but more like from lovesickness.”

  “Oh yeah, I bet you did.” Stella pouted. “You think you’re some sort of magical matchmaker or something?”

  “I don’t know. You tell me. What happened and who’d you tango with and then I’ll let you know.”

  Stella sighed. “Fine. Okay. So he was a nice guy. And you disappeared and those drinks were particularly yummy. Especially after the day I had. And then I decided it would be okay to throw caution to the wind and have a teensy little hookup because, well, it has been an awfully long time.”

  “So you decided to bring him home to tango? Sort of weird.”

  “No, silly. We went to the river. Where everyone goes to tango.”

  Antoine pointed his thumb at himself. “Wait. So I get the credit for this hookup? Sweet.”

  Stella squinted at him. “Not hardly. I can honestly say that thoughts of you did not cross my mind when I decided I was in the mood for a little fling.”

  “But the tango. I showed you that.”

  “You showed Lexie, and I happened to be there. But, well, yeah.”

  “So you were dancing and now you’re maimed. We missed part of the story.”

  Stella shook her head. “It was super embarrassing. We were dancing. It was late and the place was packed. We were pressed up against each other—”

  “Which is a good thing,” Alexa said.

  “But then he went one way and I went another way and I went crashing down. Needless to say, it wasn’t one of my more graceful moves.”

  “Oh, you poor thing.” Alexa shifted the bag of ice to cover the swollen part.

  “But he was super chivalrous and got me back here, and he carried me all the way up the steps.”

  “Is he crazy?” Antoine said. “What person in their right mind would do something like that?”

  Alexa swatted at him. “You, if I hurt myself. I’d make you.”

  They all laughed.

  “So he comes back here and then what?”

  “Well, normally an injury would be a bit of a buzzkill, but he was such a gentleman, and like I said, it had been a long time and, well, you weren’t here.”

  “Ewww, I’m going to change the sheets right now.” Alexa held her nose in jest.

  “Already done,” Stella said.

  “Omigod, so you slept with him? On the first date?”

  Stella smiled. “It wasn’t even a date. I think it totally qualifies as a hookup, right? I’m pretty proud of myself that I simply pulled the trigger and did it.”

  “And so you’re seeing each other later?”

  Stella frowned. “Hell no. I didn’t say I was dating the man. I said I was having a fling. I had the fling, it’s done. We have our class starting tomorrow, and I won’t have time for that nonsense. Besides, he’s only visiting. He’ll be leaving probably by tomorrow, who knows? I don’t have to worry about that stuff. It was a lot of fun, but I don’t have time for men in my life. Besides, men leave. I’m never going to give one a chance to leave me—I’ll always be the first one out the door.”

  “Stella, you are a hopeless romantic,” Antoine said as he reached for his girlfriend’s hand and kissed his way up her arm.

  “Right?” Alexa said. “I mean you have this guy, who is clearly interested in you, and you’re not going to give it a chance?”

  “I’ll leave the charming romance to you two lovebirds. Meantime I need you to feed me something good to make up for selling me out to the easiest hookup. Get cooking.” She clapped her hands as the two of them laughed at her.

  “Mark my words, Stella Whitaker. You’re going to regret it if you don’t follow up with him. Domenico Romeo is the real deal.”

  Stella plugged her ears and whistled. She was afraid the more she thought about Domenico Romeo, the more she might realize her friend was right.

  Chapter Twelve

  Domenico had sent five texts over the past two hours to Stella and she didn’t reply to a single one of them. Which sucked. He could tell she was like one of those cats you reach your hand out to pet and it comes that close to you then runs scared behind the bushes. There was no reasoning with a timid cat. But damn, as timid as she seemed to be about men—or was it only him—she was certainly not timid when it came to sex. That woman was in it to win it, and despite her injured ankle, she came, she saw, and she conquered. Not necessarily in that order.

  Yet as much fun as they had in bed together, he probably enjoyed dancing and chatting with her even more. She was fun and interesting. And if he was to be completely honest, a little bit challenging. And he always loved to rise to a challenge. For that matter, coming to Paris, deciding to take the step he was about to take, was indicative of that. Clearly he needed to shake things up, be it in his personal or professional life, so maybe the universe had sent the obstinate Stella Whitaker his way to make it that much harder.

  And to the universe, he had one thing to say: Bring. It.

  ~*~

  Domenico stopped for a croissant and a cappuccino—he was, after all, Italian, and couldn’t go without his breakfast coffee drink—on his way to his first day of class. It felt weird to be going back to school again. Not like this was your conventional kind of school, but maybe it would lead to him to take the plunge and go all in with the culinary end of things.

  For now, merely attending the intensive wine course at l’école Marondi was going to be a huge leap. He hadn’t told his family what he was doing. Instead he’d said he wanted a break so decided to take a little getaway to Paris. They didn’t need to know what he was doing there; it was a big deal simply for him to assert his independence this much in a family that expected everyone to toe the family line.

  As he approached the wide granite staircase of the school, with students milling about finishing their coffees and chatting, he took a deep breath. It was going to be weird, being this man who’d been out in the world, active in his business, all of a sudden a mere student again. Weirder still since here he knew so much about his wine, but now he was going to have to learn about French wine, and well, everyone knew the French thought they invented wine. He laughed at his little joke. After all, everyone knew the Italians invented it. Or at least the good stuff.

  He walked past the thicket of students milling about on the sidewalk and entered through the tall oak doors and into the large hallway where he’d been for meetings only the day before. He’d had to talk the school’s director into letting him in without going through the proper admissions channels—normally you couldn’t just show up for one class but rather had to be an enrolled student. Thank goodness Romeo wines were known the world over. After discussion amongst senior staff at the school, they decided to allow Domenico to attend the two-week intensive course with no obligation to continue with any other classes. It would be his little secret that he was entertaining the idea of doing that.

  He walked the length of the lobby and took the stairs to the basement, where he was greeted with the strong smell of alcohol looming in the air. The familiar ar
oma of many bottles of wine breathing in the classroom wafted outward through the doorway.

  He entered and took a seat in the front row. He didn’t want to be the teacher’s pet but he did want to absorb as much as possible, and if that meant sitting front and center he would. He looked at his watch: a good fifteen minutes until the class would start. He opened up an app on his phone for the Corriere della Sera newspaper, content to catch up on what was going on in his country while he waited for class to begin.

  Soon students began filtering into the classroom. He wanted to be inconspicuous, but occasionally he lifted his head to see who arrived. About a minute before class was scheduled to start, he heard her voice.

  “I am so sitting in the back of the classroom,” he heard Stella say. “I hate wine. It tastes like medicine to me. I’m only taking this course because I was told it was essential before leaving the school.”

  He turned around and noticed there wasn’t a remaining place to sit in the back of the room. Instead, the only two seats left were in the front—one to Domenico’s right, and the other to his left. Alexa was the first to seat herself, and upon noticing Domenico, waved hello as the instructor arrived.

  Hobbling in behind the teacher was Stella, garbed in the traditional toque hat and chef’s coat, with her name embroidered on it. He was so impressed with her professional appearance. He was not invited to dress as the students did since he wasn’t officially enrolled at l’école Marondi, which made him feel a bit wistful. But more immediately, he felt terrible about her ankle, which was obviously bothering her. He stood to help her to her seat, but she grimaced at him and shook off his offer of assistance.

  As soon as she sat down, she turned her back to Domenico, making it clear she was going to have nothing to do with him.

  Okay, then. She wanted to play hard to get? He’d dealt with worse in his life.