by Meg Ripley
By the time she reached her rental's front porch, Emma was exhausted. She unlocked the door, climbed the stairs to her room robotically and collapsed onto her bed. Within seconds, she was fast asleep, dreaming of all the naughty things she'd done that night.
****
Marco was sleeping peacefully; the sun would not make its appearance for some time, but early vestiges of dawn were beginning to lighten the starlit sky. Footsteps landed softly on the yacht's deck, usually more than enough to stir him instantly from sleep. In his line of work, it was necessary for him to always remain alert; being caught off guard could be deadly. But his evening with Emma had left him feeling satiated in a way unlike anything he had felt before, so he slept as the footsteps quietly made their way to where he lay sprawled beneath a blanket on the deck.
The unannounced guest knew that no one would hear him; the boats lining the long dock all belonged to the Accardi family, and he knew for a fact that Marco was the only member of the family occupying the vessels today. He hunched down next to Marco, moving slowly to maintain the silence. Leaning in close, that final movement made the yacht's deck creak; the noise was enough to bring Marco to full attention. He was on his feet in an instant, reaching for a weapon at his side before realizing he was unclothed, standing naked with every sinewy muscle in his body taut and ready to respond to the threat. Then his sleep-addled mind cleared and he could see the unannounced guest before him.
“Fuck, Dominic! What the hell are you doing?” he asked incredulously. It was no threat; the man before him was his brother. The man was younger than him by two years and a half a foot shorter, but the raven-black hair and rugged jawline rendered the two unmistakably related. According to Dominic, there was business to attend to in these pre-dawn hours, and the unsavory thought marred Marco's previous calm. Neither brother cared for these tasks, really. They were born into this life, but it was never the life to which they would have aspired. The money, the luxury, the respect and fear from those beneath them; both brothers would have traded it all in a heartbeat for a white picket fence and a normal family. Marco found his clothes quickly, dressed, and holstered his Glock. The two were off within minutes--Marco couldn't wait for it to be over with.
****
Emma awoke early the next morning; the sun barely beginning to light up the sky. Even though she couldn't have gotten more than a few hours’ sleep, she felt more well-rested than she had in years. So, it's a good night's sex that refreshes the body, not a good night's sleep, Emma thought, giggling. Upon hearing the noise from the next room over, Lisa burst into Emma's bedroom, plopped down on the edge of her bed and demanded a full recount of the evening's events. Emma began to sit up, and then thought better of it as the room began to spin around her. Apparently, the drinks she'd consumed the night before were taking their toll. From her reclined position, Emma filled Lisa in on a few of the less sordid details; she met a hot guy, saw his boat, had a little fun and came home. End of story--or, at least she thought.
Lisa was a little disappointed when her friend wouldn't fill her in on the juicy details, but she knew Emma was never the sort to kiss and tell. So, she bounced off the bed and headed downstairs to whip up breakfast for the two of them. Never the early birds, the rest of the group remained sleeping. Lisa had just depressed the lever on the toaster when Emma appeared in the doorway of the kitchen in a pair of boy-cut shorts and a tank top that left nothing to the imagination. “Wow, Em. Is that what you wore on your impromptu date last night?” she asked with a smirk. The doorbell rang and Lisa turned her head in its direction, perplexed. They didn't know anybody in town, so who exactly could be at their door just a half hour past dawn?
Emma walked toward the front entranceway, assuming the caller must be some evil, early-morning salesman. She opened the door, ready to give him a piece of her hangover-clouded mind, and froze--it certainly wasn't a salesman waiting on her front porch. He was dressed in clothes similar to those strewn across the yacht's deck, but she had never expected to see those clothes--nor the wearer--again. Marco grinned as he read the confusion on Emma's beautiful face. Her hair was tousled from sleep and the skin-tight, skimpy clothing reminded him just how much he enjoyed watching her reveal every inch of her body.
“Good morning, Emma,” he greeted her cordially. God, she felt a thrill course through her every time he said her name.
“Um…good morning, Marco,” she replied shakily. “I...I didn't think I'd see you again. I mean, I enjoyed last night very much, but I assumed you'd be busy...that last night was just, well, you know...” she trailed off, uncertain of how to say that because he had his way with her, she assumed that would be the end of it. A one night's stand, right?
“How did you find me? I mean, I didn't even tell you my last name.”
“I could tell you, but I'm sure you'd rather not know,” he grinned. In truth, all it took was a phone call to a gossipy associate of his, and he was able to find out all about the new group in town. “Now, while I'd love to take you in that,” he paused, allowing the double innuendo of his statement to sink in, “perhaps you should get dressed into something more appropriate so I can take you out for a breakfast that will banish your hangover to the far corners of the earth.”
As she turned to invite Marco inside, Lisa appeared in the doorway, desire radiating from her eyes the moment she saw him standing there. Lisa then glanced past Marco, noticing the car waiting in front of the house.
“Holy crap! What's with the limo, Em? Are you off to Cinderella's ball?” she joked incredulously. Emma's eyes widened as she finally looked beyond the gorgeous male standing in her doorway and caught sight of the luxury vehicle and the driver standing next to it.
“Um, are we going to breakfast in that?” she inquired uncomfortably.
“Well, yes—that’s my car. And by having Vito drive us, I can spend more time focused on you rather than the mundane streets,” he explained.
Still feeling a little off balance from the hangover--and more than a little uncomfortable with Marco and his moneybags--she ushered him into the living room and left to get cleaned up while Lisa entertained her guest. Emma showered mechanically, though her skin still seemed sensitized from last night's play and every brush across her stomach, nipples and clit sent tiny ripples of pleasure through her body. She dressed in her favorite yellow, crepe de chine sundress. Its built-in bra and knee-skimming length rendered undergarments unnecessary, so she slipped on a pair of two-inch heels and headed downstairs, feeling deliciously sinful when a breeze caught beneath her dress to cool her naked, heated flesh.
The shower had given her time to clear her head, and by the time she reappeared in the living room, she was looking forward to breakfast with the Italian Adonis reclining on her sofa--even if that meant riding there in a limo.
The driver stopped in front of some ritzy restaurant. It looked like it was closed; no one occupied the tables near the windows and she could see no movement inside.
“Um, I don't think they're open yet, Marco.”
“Don't worry, Sweetheart,” he replied, placing a hand on her thigh. “Your breakfast awaits you--I'm sure of it.” He bit his lip as he noticed her firm nipples peeking through the thin fabric of her sundress.
Vito was at the door, opening it for Marco and Emma to make their exit. Marco escorted her inside the restaurant and took a seat near a window overlooking a quiet side street. He handed Emma a menu and signaled for the waiter. “Coffee, please, Victor.”
Emma opened her menu, and her eyes went wide at the prices listed next to the decadent dishes inside. She scanned the selections for the least expensive choice. “I'll have the French toast, please,” she requested politely.
“The usual for me please, Victor. Thank you,” Marco added. Victor was off in a flash.
Marco had intended to woo Emma with a little luxury, but she definitely did not look impressed. “Hey, are you alright?” he asked, still amazed by this enigma. Any other woman he'd known would have dug right in
, squeezing every last dime of luxury she could muster from him. But not Emma, and God, that made her even hotter.
“I'm sorry, I’m just a little uncomfortable. You seem to have everything...more money than a person could ever possibly want. Mansions, yachts, your own personal chauffeur and a restaurant that opens just for you? It's just not what I'm used to, Marco,” she responded, opting to be forthright. Perhaps she did owe him an explanation; he was only trying to be kind, after all. “You see, I work with children who don't know if they'll have food tomorrow. I do what I can, but my meager salary certainly doesn't go far. Do you know all the good that could be done with that kind of money? For the price of my French toast, I could make sure every one of the kids I work with has breakfast for a week!”
Emma fell silent momentarily, but then decided since she was there anyway, she mind as well enjoy herself. They chatted casually over breakfast, Emma talking more about her own life.
Marco didn't say much, but he did tell her about his younger brother, Dominic, who was his confidante and best friend. Dominic had been called out of town on business earlier this morning, but he'd be back soon and Marco was sure he'd love to meet her. While Marco had to fudge a little about the nature of the business of which he was called away for, he was absolutely certain Dominic was dying to meet the girl who left Marco in such a peaceful slumber; the girl who compelled him to rush through their early morning business in order to find her and take her out for breakfast. As Marco spoke about his brother, his face softened; she could tell that he loved him very much. That made Emma very happy and a new warmth spread through her, compounding the heat that was already making her wet. Marco's nearness and the memories of last night already had her aroused, desperate for a repeat performance.
They remained together for the rest of the day, walking along the streets of Newport, grabbing sandwiches and picnicking in the park. As evening approached, Emma was on fire yet again; if Marco didn't plunge his cock deep inside her soon, she was certain she'd combust. But only moments after inviting her back to his yacht, his phone rang. He turned away, speaking in hushed tones before returning his phone to his pocket and turning to Emma with a pained look.
“God, I’m so sorry--I'm going to have to cut our evening short.” He offered no further explanation, but made one more quick call to his driver. Marco leaned down and kissed Emma gently, his lips lingering on hers, unwilling to end the contact just yet. His driver arrived a minute later to escort Emma back to her home. He turned away as Emma drove off, heading in the opposite direction to meet up with the group of associates who would occupy his evening hours.
****
The following day, Emma's phone rang just after 10am. Marco was on the other end; Emma didn't bother questioning how he managed to get her unlisted number. “I don't have much free time today, but I really want to see you--will you meet me for lunch at Ricardo's?”
She couldn't resist. It wasn't exactly what she wanted--Marco's tongue on her; his massive cock filling her up completely--but it was something. While she'd only known him a brief amount of time, the opportunity to spend an hour with him excited her. She accepted the offer graciously, and the moment she was off the phone, Emma darted up the stairs to get ready. She showered, combed her hair and rummaged through her closet for something that would make Marco drool. It turned out that the closest thing she had to sexy and daring in the apparel department was a mid-thigh length, A-line dress with a moderately low neckline. It would have to do. She was dressed and ready in a flash.
It was early still, but Emma decided to walk to meet Marco for lunch to pass the time. She strolled along the streets of Newport, thinking about Marco all the while. His hands, his muscular arms, his rippling chest, his massive cock that made her mouth water. Oh, God--stop it, Emma! she chided herself. She was going to be soaking wet and ready to jump Marco right there in the restaurant if she maintained her train of thought.
Lunch proceeded in the same manner as the previous day's breakfast: Emma talked a lot, Marco spoke a little—and both used every ounce of strength they had to keep their hands to themselves throughout the meal. Afterward, Marco was off on business again. The routine continued throughout the following several weeks; every free moment Marco could muster, he would spend with Emma, but never did he have more than a spare hour or two to spend.
He was going mad; he couldn't stay away, but the more time he spent with, her the less he could stomach the lies and deceit. She had started off as nothing more than a hot piece of ass that walked over to him in a bar. Now that he'd gotten to know her, he still wanted to possess every inch of her body, but he also wanted every other part of her. She was the most incredible woman he'd ever known. But he couldn't ask her to join his world; he didn't want to corrupt her with the horrible things it entailed. It left him in a terrible predicament. As much as he was dying to fuck her again, it somehow felt wrong to take her this way. And so, he met with her over lunch, brunch, dinner...anywhere he would have to restrain himself.
Until one evening, he found himself alone with Emma, strolling along the docks after dark, and it was too much. No more darting off after a dinner date, no more cold showers, and no more walking around with a hard-on that was soon going to cause irreparable damage. He knew he had to have her...now. Marco turned to Emma, using all the restraint he could muster not to bend her over the nearest boat and fuck her hard and fast. He grabbed her arms gently and leaned in to whisper in her ear, “I need to have you, Emma. Now.”
He sounded guttural; primal. Emma thought she might be imagining it. After all these weeks of platonic dates, she had all but given up. She knew that Marco wanted her; she could see it in his eyes and feel it in the charged air between them. But, he never made a move. The moment she heard the need in his voice, her pulse began to race. God, yes--finally! she screamed silently. Desire coursed through her veins and she couldn't speak at first. She simply nodded almost imperceptibly and that was enough for Marco.
His mouth came down to crush hers hard against his lips. His breathing became labored as Emma's hands came up around his neck. Just then, he pulled away; unless he planned to tear her clothes off right there, he had to stop now. He grabbed Emma's hand and walked briskly along the docks, down the same long strip they had traversed weeks before.
When he reached his yacht, he pulled her on board. As soon as their feet were planted on the deck, he grabbed the hem of Emma's dress and it was over her head in a flash. He grabbed the clasp of her bra between his fingers and pulled hard, trying to loosen its hold, but breaking it in the process. Her breasts sprang free as the bra landed on the deck. Marco hooked his fingers under the sides of her thong, but as he went to slide the meager scrap of fabric down her thighs, his grasp was stronger than he realized and he tore them off instead, exposing her instantly.
God, what a sight, he thought. She was standing there in nothing but a pair of high heels; her breathing was labored with desire and her hair tousled. Marco ripped off his shirt, skipping the buttons altogether, and tore open the closure on his jeans. He whipped them off in an instant, freeing his massive, hard cock. He couldn't stop; he couldn't even slow down. He grabbed Emma by the hips and spun her around to face the lounge chair on the deck. Pressing gently but firmly on the small of her back, he bent her forward and thrust every inch of his length inside her, filling her completely. “Oh, God...you feel so fucking amazing,” he groaned.
Emma's head spun in response to the arousal coursing through her. Marco was intoxicating like this, and she absolutely loved it. The rough way he ripped off her clothes, his instantly hard cock standing at attention; the primitive way he bent her over to fuck her. She had never known desire like this, and when his shaft rammed deep inside her, she thought she might cum right then and there. He didn't pause this time, kindly waiting for her to adjust to him. Instead, he withdrew quickly, and plunged back into her, over and over again, his balls hitting against her with every thrust. Her tits bounced wildly and she began to press backward to me
et him, forcing his cock in deeper. She was absolutely wild with pleasure; panting, moaning his name over and over until the pressure within her was too much to bear. Electric shockwaves rocked her body as she hit her peak, pressing her mouth against the lounge's cushion to muffle her screams. Like before, Emma's climax sent Marco over the edge, emptying his throbbing length deep within her.
Emma thought it was over; his fire spent for the evening, but she was wrong. Marco wasn't anywhere close to finished yet. She collapsed forward against the lounge chair, using her arms to support her body while her ass remained high in the air. Marco dropped silently to his knees behind her and shoved two fingers in her pussy as his other hand moved forward to rub her clit. He wasn't gentle; while his orgasm had served to take the edge off, he still wanted Emma desperately. His fingers fucked her hard, moving in and out of her quickly, while his fingers rubbed her clit vigorously. He wanted to see her cum again, and he wanted it now. He moved faster and faster, making Emma moan as her ass writhed in the air. It only took a moment. Emma's appetite had been sated no more than his own and her body was ready for more. He could tell that she was almost there as her body moved wildly against his fingers. He thrust inside just a few more times and then held his fingers deep inside her as her second orgasm jolted through her body. He was just about to stop; to remove his fingers and replace them with his dick once again. But then a thought crossed his mind: he wondered if she'd ever had a man deep in her most private of places. And the possibility that he might just be the first to introduce her to something new sent a shock of pleasure through his body that nearly did him in.