“Do you hold parties in that thing, bella?”
Her laugh was unsteady. “Not usually, but I think we’re going to have one today.”
Grasping the material with his hand, he yanked it down toward the footboard before standing Isabella at the edge of the mattress. He moved his hands up and down her arms, caressing the soft skin, feeling the tiny shivers racing through her. His gaze dropped to her nipples, dark beneath the fabric of the dress and so obviously hard. He pinched one of them lightly between thumb and forefinger and was rewarded with a soft whimper.
On impulse, he bent his head and drew the thin cotton of her dress, the sheer silk of her bra and her beaded nipple into his mouth, sucking hard and flicking his tongue over the surface. Isabella threaded her fingers through his hair, clutching his head and arching herself into him. His cock flexed against the material of his slacks, a painful reminder of his state of arousal.
Slow, Hallowell. Keep it slow.
He grabbed handfuls of the material of her skirt and drew it slowly up her thighs to her hips, grasping it with one hand while the other slid beneath the edge of her thong to cup her ass. He moved his fingers down to where her buttocks and her thigh connected, then lower just to the edge of her slit. Automatically she widened her stance to give him better access and his finger reached farther to circle the opening to her pussy.
He continued his dual assault on her nipple and her cunt, her tiny moans arousing him further, her slender fingers digging into his skull. With a tremendous effort he lifted his head from her breast and slipped his hand back up over her ass. Breathing heavily, he reached for the button holding the halter top closed. When the fabric fell away, he stared at the rich lushness of her breasts now open to his gaze. He cupped them in his palms, taking their weight and thumbing her nipples gently. Damn! They were huge, firm and inviting. He could suck on them all night.
Pressing his mouth to her, he gently licked her full, sensuous lips while he made quick work of the back zipper on the skirt of her dress, letting it fall to the floor and pool at her feet. He squeezed and kneaded her breasts while his tongue thrust inside her mouth and learned every silken inch of it.
Forcing himself to step back, he let his eyes take in every inch of her trembling body, from her wet, taut nipples to the tiny triangle covering her mound. Lane didn’t know where to touch first. Where to taste. She was a Florentine princess in flesh and blood, so compellingly arousing that he nearly came just from looking at her.
“There’s no sign that says ‘Don’t touch’,” she teased, with a slight catch in her voice.
“I wish I had a dozen pairs of hands.” He could barely get the words out.
He reached to caress her shoulders, her arms, the rich swell of her breasts, pausing to flick both the dark nipples. He molded his fingers to the indentation of her waist and the flare of her hips. His hands met on the soft skin of her tummy and moved as one through the trimmed glossy pubic curls to find the wet slit and within it the furled knot of her clitoris. Isabella sucked in a breath as he tugged the nub with two fingers.
The rich scent of her arousal teased at his nose and he fell to his knees, burying his face in her pussy. As carefully as if he were opening the petals of a flower he spread her cunt lips and drew his tongue along the length of her slit. She shuddered and grasped his shoulders, digging her fingers into his muscles.
Her taste was better than any fine wine he’d ever had and twice as intoxicating. He lapped at her like a man dying of thirst, sliding his hands around to cup her very fine ass and hold her in place. By turns he licked her slick flesh and swirled his tongue around her swollen clit. The more he tasted the wetter she became, her body trembling in his grasp, delicious little sounds escaping her lips.
When she was shaking in his grasp, he nudged her until she fell backward onto the bed, her legs dangling over the edge of the mattress and splayed wide open. Locking his mouth onto her clit, he slid two fingers inside her, curling them to find her sweet spot. Setting up an insistent rhythm with his mouth and fingers, he probed and stroked and sucked, feeling the tension grow in her body.
“Oh, please,” she cried out, thighs quivering, hands clenched into fists as they grasped at the fine cotton sheets.
Please? Oh, yes, he’d please her all right. He increased the pace of mouth and fingers, touching all her intimate points, lapping at her rich cream. As he felt her nearing her climax he slipped his fingers from the clasp of her pussy and moved them along the very sensitive tissue to the area around the puckered ring of her anus then back up again. Once, twice, then he drove three fingers into her channel and bit down gently on her clit.
She came in a voluptuous explosion, drenching his hand and bucking her hips, little cries of “oh, oh, oh” punctuating her spasms. Lane couldn’t take his eyes from her. The orgasm gripped her fiercely, shaking her entire body. Her hands closed tightly around the sheets, her hips thrust and rose. Her eyes were closed, her face flushed and her breasts heaving at him as she struggled for breath. He continued to stroke and suck until the last aftershock faded and Isabella lay limp on the bed. Moving her unresisting body, he adjusted her until she lay lengthwise, her head on the pillows. Then he bent down to her kiss her, his tongue still coated with her juices probing her mouth. Lane was overcome with a desire to feel those full lips around his cock, to slide it into the heat of her mouth.
His hand coasted over her body, cupping her breasts and tweaking her nipples before sliding over the smooth skin of her tummy and finding her wet heat again.
“I think one of us is overdressed,” she gasped, tearing her mouth away. “And there’s room on this bed for both of us.”
Lane chuckled softly. “If I’d taken my pants off too soon it would all be over but the shouting.”
“I’m ready to shout, cara mio,” she whispered. She reached a hand to his face and traced the line of his lips with one finger. “Right now.”
If he didn’t get naked soon Isabella was afraid she’d leap off the bed and rip his clothes off herself. He was the most attentive lover she’d had in ages, concentrating on her pleasure first rather than his own. But now she needed to feel his skin against hers. To touch him everywhere. To wrap her fingers around the cock pressing so urgently against his fly.
The smile he gave her was teasing but hungry.
“Getting impatient, are you?”
“Impatient for a lot more.” She shifted her body on the bed, opening her legs to tease him with the sight of her drenched pussy. Tiny little shivers still skated over her skin and the throbbing inside her pussy that the release had momentarily stilled was back in force, vibrating through her body.
Her eyes locked with his as he stood up and pulled off his shirt. She was sure she drooled at the sight of that hard-muscled chest dusted with dark hair, the sculpted definition of the muscles in his arms and shoulders. In the fading light that filtered in through the open balcony doors the lines of his masculine face were in sharp relief. The whole picture made Isabella squeeze her thighs together against the pounding of the pulse in her cunt. Incredibly, the orgasm had only whetted her appetite for more. Much more.
When he unfastened his slacks and stepped out of them along with his boxer briefs she thought she might swallow her tongue. His cock was absolutely magnificent, springing forward from the dense thatch of curls surrounding it, the sac with his testicles hanging heavy beneath it against his thighs. God, the man was absolutely beautiful. And every inch of him radiated sex.
She wet her lips. “Come here, Lane.” She held out a hand to him.
He paused to bend and retrieve something from his wallet—a condom, of course—before climbing onto the bed next to her.
“Bella mia,” he crooned, one hand cupping a breast as he kissed her forehead, her cheeks, the line of her neck. He nibbled the lobe of her ear and licked the soft place behind it, the one that sent such shivers racing through her and heated her blood.
Isabella slipped a hand between their bodies to fin
d the hot length of his cock and wrapped her fingers around it, stroking the velvet skin over the hard steel. It flexed in her hand and when she circled the tip of a finger over the head she felt the thick drop of liquid beading at the slit. Boldly she rubbed it with her finger, then lifted that finger to her mouth and sucked it languidly.
“Jesus, Bella,” Lane hissed. “Have mercy on a man.” He clamped his hand around her wrists, stilling its motion.
“But I want to,” she told him, even as he continued to place kisses at strategic places. “I want to make you feel good, too.”
“Oh, let me tell you, I feel better than good.”
Still he moved her hand and bent his head to take a nipple in his mouth, pulling on it with his lips and biting it lightly. His hand continued to mold her breast as he tugged and nipped. She moved restlessly, wanting more, wanting to feel every inch of him against her. She wove her fingers into his thick hair, arching her breasts up to his mouth, rubbing herself against the thickness of his cock and the concrete hardness of his body.
When he shifted abruptly she moaned a protest but he kissed his way down her body, taking his time. Licking every inch then feathering kisses. He ran the tip of his tongue through the crease where hip and thigh joined and dipped it into the indentation of her navel. It was sensual torture. She wanted more but she didn’t want him to stop. All she could think in her scattered brain was that here was a man who knew how to make love to a woman. Then he was between her thighs, spreading them wide and placing an open-mouthed kiss on her cunt.
She bucked against him, every nerve ending firing, her blood pounding in her ears. When he lifted his head, she looked down at him through heavy-lidded eyes and saw her cream glistening on his lips. She watched as he grabbed the condom and easily rolled it onto his cock. Then he pushed her legs back, positioned himself at her entrance and with a swift stroke plunged into her waiting pussy.
Automatically she wrapped her legs around his waist, digging her heels into the small of his back to pull him into her as tightly as she could. He braced himself over her for a moment, then began a slow glide in and out, an almost languorous movement, adjusting his body so his pubic bone rubbed her clit with every motion. Every rasp of that sensitive flesh sent more liquid into her cunt, lubricating a channel already wet and waiting.
When he drew back she could feel every inch of his erection slowly scraping against her sensitive walls. When he thrust forward his balls slapped against her, turning her arousal into an explosion of lust. She tried to urge him to increase his pace but he seemed determined to draw it out as much as possible. She could see every muscle in his body taut with the effort at control, desire and need blazing in his eyes. Sexual warmth suffused her, the blood in her veins turning into molten liquid, her inner muscles clutching at him.
She was sure she couldn’t endure it for another moment, all her nerves were crying for more, a dark coil of need was unwinding faster and faster inside her, Lane increased his rhythm, quicker now and harder. He leaned forward more so her already sensitive breasts rubbed against the hair on his chest. She was on fire everywhere and everything ceased to exist except the heat surrounding her, the man over her and the thick, hard cock pounding in and out of her.
More, more, more. It echoed in her head. She used her legs to pull herself even closer to him as the wave inside her built up and up, crested, and exploded. At the same moment Lane stiffened, gave one last hard thrust and emptied himself. She could feel the spurts of hot, thick semen through the thin barrier of the latex, the heat of it expanding through her body.
Isabella clutched at him as she fell into space, rockets exploding as she spun and whirled, her body convulsing again and again and again. Finally she lay gasping for breath, her heart hammering, Lane on top of her catching his weight on his arms. The only sound in the room was their breathing as they drew air into oxygen-starved lungs.
At last he brushed strands of hair from her damp cheeks and smiled down at her.
“Molto bene, cara,” he said in a low, deep voice.
She smiled back at him. “Very good indeed. You make love like an Italian Renaissance man, Lane Hallowell. I do believe you are a famous lover reincarnated.”
“Then perhaps we made love like this in another life.”
She laughed. “Oh, I think I’d remember that.”
He chuckled. “Give me one minute here and I will attempt to remember.”
“We should revive our memories and our bodies with good wine. Sadly,” she said looking forlorn as only pampered Italian beauties could and not seem petulant, “I have none. But I can go down to the enoteca at the corner and get us a good bottle.”
He ran his open palm down her throat to cup a breast. Against her nipple, he whispered, “I like you as you are, undressed. What if I call the shopkeeper? Will they deliver it up to us?”
“Giorgio Silva is the owner’s name. Sì, he will bring it up for me.” She leaned up to nuzzle Lane’s ear. “He does it often.”
Lane lifted a brow at her. “On other afternoons?”
She knew he asked if she had enjoyed other trysts like this here. “Exactly.”
Lane’s expression fell to a boyish dismay that dissolved any concern of hers that Lane Hallowell had taken her to bed to add her to his list of conquests. “I am damn jealous.”
“You must not be. I have had few lovers. Carefully selected. Carefully discarded. And you?”
“The same.”
She nodded, pleased with his answer and sensing his honesty. “Our wine then.” She told him the phone number to call.
He slid carefully from her body and padded to the bathroom to dispose of the condom. Isabella forced herself from the bed, pulling a satin robe from her closet and belting it at the waist. She heard Lane moving behind her, picking up the phone, ordering from Giorgio in flawless Italian.
Oh, my god, she thought. I really have found myself a Renaissance man. I can hardly wait to see him in action on the job.
If Nemesis hires me. If I want the job and if I can work with him without making a fool of myself over him.
He came up behind her on the balcony, his hands warm on her shoulders, his lips tracing the line of her throat down to her shoulder.
“I love this view overlooking the city,” she told him, reveling in the warm, wet mark of his mouth on her skin. “It’s like an artist’s palette of colors.”
“I agree. And a fitting place to drink our toast as soon as the wine arrives.”
She turned to look up at him, his additional six inches of height towering over her. He had a commanding presence now flushed with passion. A man enchanted. As was she by him. Be careful of your heart, Bella. “And what will we be toasting?”
His smile curled her toes. “Why, to our new partnership, of course. And our first assignment together.”
Isabella raised an eyebrow. “Partnership? You mean you are offering me the job? But we’ve hardly had the interview.”
He stroked her cheek and brushed his fingers lazily against her cheek. “I read your dossier. It told me everything I need to know professionally. The important thing was to determine if we blended personally.”
“Oh? And you’re saying we do?”
“I think the second part of the interview confirmed that, don’t you think?” he leaned down to brush his lips against hers just as a knock sounded on the door and the cell phone in the pocket of his slacks rang.
“I am heading into the shower,” Bella pointed toward her bathroom. “Get the door, can you?”
Chapter Three
He fished for his phone, but whoever had called had hung up. Having an idea it was Nemesis headquarters calling, he slipped on his trousers as he watched a soft smile curving Bella’s lips before she whirled for her bathroom. His body still flushed from his molten coupling with this incredible woman, he felt his cock twitch as he studied the elegant beauty of her naked ass.
“Stop it, Lane,” he muttered as he buttoned his waistband and headed for the fron
t door, touching the face of his phone as he went. From the exchange code on the screen, he glimpsed that the call had originated from Nemesis headquarters in south central Texas.
On the second ring, he was greeted by a chipper woman with business definitely on her mind.
“Good morning, Maddie. Up early, aren’t you?” He greeted the woman who was part owner with Nicole Welles of the private security company he worked for. “Especially in your condition, you should be home in bed, shouldn’t you?”
“This baby is not due for another two weeks, and it doesn’t matter where I am, Lane, sitting, standing, walking, he’s going to be a powerhouse just like his father.”
Lane chuckled. Another insistent rap sounded at the front door. “Sì, sì, I’m coming!” he hollered to Giorgio at the front door.
“I called to hear about the interview.”
“Interview, right,” he answered haphazardly, realizing he needed euros to pay this guy and dug in his pocket for his money clip. “Sorry. I promised I’d call. But the meeting went well. Terrific, in fact. Scusi,” he told her as he swung wide the door and smiled at the pudgy older man with a goofy grin on his face. “Uno momento.”
“I get that you are somewhere and busy, but I need more substance than just a headline. I have that new assignment for you. It’s urgent and—”
“So much for my vacation.”
“You knew it might come through quickly.”
“I did,” he admitted.
“So if Isabella is ready to come on board and be your partner, I need to negotiate her employment with her.”
“Right. Right.” Lane plunked fifty euro into the man’s outstretched palm, having no time to ask him what the bill really was and an urgent need to get on with Maddie’s issue and return to Bella. “Grazie. Grazie. Ciao. It was great, Maddie. We hit it off.” Wow, if you only knew.
“You think you can work together?” Maddie pressed.
“More than,” he told her as he shut the door, juggling two bottles of wine and the phone.
Unti Twilight Page 2