by Koko Brown
Something inside of him flared, like a Roman candle on New Year’s, and his seduction no longer had quite the same purpose. He yearned to possess her. No pretenses. No more games. He wanted her all to himself.
Just the thought of her belonging to another man ignited a red-hot streak of jealousy within him. It goaded him, challenged him to take a stand with a singular urgency that made his mouth and hands seek possession of her body.
His hands skimmed over her hips, spanned her waist and stroked the gentle curve of her belly. The more he touched her the more he wanted. And until she told him no or stop, he would take and take until he had his fill.
Would making love to her run along the same course? Would he constantly want more? Paolo scoffed at the thought. He’d been able to love a woman then leave her, regardless of her beauty and intelligence. Gutierrez’s fiancé would be no different.
To prove a point, Paolo decided to put his nagging doubts and Yvonne back in perspective. He slid his hands inside her bikini bottoms and massaged her firm butt cheeks. She gasped and her back bowed as if in shock, but as his hands became more insistent, a moan ripped from her lips and she relaxed against him.
Her final surrender! Paolo growled as he sucked on her tongue.
Eager to take more liberties, he inched his finger along the seam of her ass. A shudder rippled through her to him, hitting him like an electrical shock, making him weak in the knees. Even though his head was spinning, Paolo pushed forward until he touched the cleft between her legs.
Too bad they stood in warm water. He couldn’t tell if she was already wet for him or just a condition of their environment. There was only one sure way to find out.
Paolo pushed aside the minimal covering and ran his thumb through the springy curls covering her slit, opening her to him.
The intimacy of their position must have triggered something within her because she suddenly became the aggressor. She wrapped her arm around his neck and pulled him closer, drawing him in, deepening the intensity of their kiss. Moaning long and hard against his lips, her tongue sucked on and dueled with his.
Paulo leaned into her for support. He felt like he was unraveling. He was even finding it difficult to breathe! In no time at all she’d caught him off guard, effectively turned the tables on him and rocked him to his core. Desperate for more, he tilted his hand upward and slowly pushed a finger deep into her pussy.
“So tight,” he hissed against her lips, “so tight…so wet.”
Turned on by the snug grip of her sex, Paulo slipped another finger inside of her hot depths. Slowly, fearing if he went too fast it would scare her, Paolo pumped his fingers in and out. But it wasn’t enough. He needed more contact! Using his idle hand, he explored her body.
Paolo marveled at the nip in her waist and the softness of her mocha skin, yet neither of these held a candle to the sensual rise of her pert breasts. He took one of them in his hand and he ground his teeth in frustration. What he wouldn’t give to take the blackberry-tipped nipple into his mouth! But he didn’t want to chance it. A simple change in position and the tenuous string holding them together could snap.
Paolo settled on lifting and massaging her twin peaks. Before too long, a warm wetness coated his fingers and the tempting buds he yearned for ripened and pressed insistently against his palm like his cock against her luscious ass.
Driven by her response, Paolo came to a realization. He wanted to see her get off. In some roundabout way, her pleasure would trigger his as well. His choice made, he guided his fingers even deeper, practically lifting her from the pool’s floor. He plucked, pulled and strummed her ripe body, tuning her energy to only his.
He tweaked her nipples until they became hard little pebbles and changed the measured strokes of his fingers into short hard thrusts.
Paolo didn’t hold back, wouldn’t hold back. By the time she stumbled from the pool, she’d know without a doubt he was the one that made her come.
In no time, her body grew rigid. Her gasps for air turned into loud moans and her tiny hands clawed at his shoulders. Paolo smiled in triumph.
She was coming undone.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“Let go. I have you.”
And who are you? Yvonne wondered, drifting back to reality. She looked down at the strong arm wrapped around her waist and the hand leisurely thumbing her nipple and groaned.
Have I lost my ever living mind?
She’d acted like a slut, with Paolo Saito of all people! In a moment of madness, she’d committed a grave mistake that would have far reaching consequences.
Yvonne pushed away from him, taking him by surprise. Quickly, she scrambled over the side of the pool, pulled on her spa robe and tied the belt around her waist, creating a barrier between them. For good measure, she spun around, intending to put him in his place, but she choked.
Paulo stood in the middle of the pool, all golden skinned and rippling muscle like a god rising from the sea. But his body wasn’t what drew Yvonne’s regard. It was the intensity of his dark gaze. He looked seconds away from storming out of the pool and taking her right then and there. Up against the wall, on the floor, hell the look he gave her he’d probably just wrap her legs around him and pound away.
Yvonne swallowed the lump in her throat. “This can never happen again,” she declared flatly with more bravado than she actually felt.
“If you say so.” Paulo chuckled softly as he lay back on the water’s surface. How could he be so nonchalant when her body was consumed by guilt and something else she wasn’t ready to admit? “Until we meet again, Yvonne Floyd.”
Yvonne watched him float on the surface of the water, her eyes immediately drawn to the huge bulge tenting the front of his black swim trunks. Her mouth suddenly felt parched and dry as the Mojave Desert. Before she committed a second offense, Yvonne escaped the room and Paolo Saito—at least for now.
*****
“Eww nasty.”
“I couldn’t help it!” Yvonne sat up on the couch and eyed Robbie as he crossed the living room. Since she’d returned home from the Roman Bathhouse she’d been on edge.
Robbie’s eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about? You ate all the gelato again didn’t you?”
They were not on the same page. And if she had anything to do with it, they would stay that way. Unable to sit still any longer, Yvonne got up from the couch and followed Robbie back into the kitchen. “I’ll buy another quart in the morning. So, what’s so nasty?”
Robbie handed her his cell phone. “The half-a-million euro counteroffer Nico Acqua just presented to my agent. It’s so nasty, it’s good.”
The guilt and fear holding Yvonne rigid seeped out of her with a sigh of relief. She and Robbie might be best friends, but she would take what happened this afternoon to the grave.
“Chump change compared to the money they’re going to make on your image. They’ll be in the black before the end of your contract. Face it, you’re a hot commodity, baby.” Yvonne placed a finger on his forearm and made a sizzling sound.
“You’re the one that’s hot. I would have never been able to pull off any of this without your help Yvonne.” Robbie leaned down and planted a kiss on the end of her nose. “You did this not my agent.”
“The offer would have come eventually, with or without my help.” Yvonne yawned. Her afternoon of lust and relaxation was finally taking its toll.
“What am I going to do when the season is over?”
“No problemo, papi. I’m going to make you so freakin’ popular you’ll be a force to be reckoned with. It won’t matter if you like to wear black fishnets and pink stilettos while strolling down the Via Condotti.”
Yvonne scurried out of harm’s way when Robbie moved to whack her on the behind. Just to be safe, she turned her back to the refrigerator. “So when do you sign the contract?”
Robbie pulled out the blender from one of the cabinets and set it on the counter. He dumped spirulina, protein powder, natural peanut butter and a cup of
water into the blender jar, and then hit the power switch. “Two weeks from now at his offices in Venice. Nico wants us to stay the entire weekend and attend a masked ball he’s hosting for Carnivale. Prepare yourself for three days of non-stop debauchery.” Robbie wiggled his tongue at her.
Her interest piqued, Yvonne asked, “What’s Carnivale?”
“It’s Mardi Gras Italian style.” Robbie cut off the blender and poured the slime/drink into a large tumbler. Yvonne turned up her nose.
“You can’t be serious. That looks like slime.”
Robbie took a healthy swallow. “This slime keeps me full of energy and makes me a monster on the pitch.” Growling, Robbie tipped his head back and downed the contents.
Yvonne imagined his concoction tasting like green chalk and smelling like sewage. “I’m sure. You can practically kill your opponent with your breath.”
“You know I left some just for you.” Robbie took a step toward her. “Want a taste?”
Yvonne pushed up against the kitchen frame. “Stop, Paolo! If you come anywhere near me with that liquid seaweed, you won’t be able to play the rest of the season.”
Robbie glanced down at the blender jar and swirled what looked like more than a swallow. When he looked back up, his brown eyes twinkled with mirth. “You just called me Paolo.”
Yvonne stiffened. Had she? More than likely! She couldn’t get him out of her head to save her life. If she didn’t know any better, she was becoming obsessed with him.
Robbie cocked his head. “You’ve got the hots for him don’t you?”
Yvonne’s toes curled in her house slippers, but she played it off with a snort and a roll of her eyes.
Robbie closed the distance between them. “You can try to snow me all you want. That blush tells it all, honey.”
Yvonne slapped her hands over her cheeks. She’d been so sure her skin was too dark to give away the tell-tale flush heating her cheeks.
An ‘I gotcha’ smile lifted the corners of Robbie’s mouth. “Want to come clean?”
No. “How clean?”
One of Robbie’s eyebrows shot upward. “You want to play twenty questions.”
“Um, no.” Before she spilled her guts and did irreparable damage to their friendship, Yvonne spun around. Robbie impeded her escape by throwing his arm around her shoulders.
“How about three questions?”
Yvonne flung his arm off. “I’ll pass.”
“Just one?”
“While you wash the dishes, I’ll be in my bedroom reading.”
She almost made it to the hallway when Robbie called out, “What am I worrying about? I know you wouldn’t act upon your attraction to my arch enemy. You’re too good of a friend and too intelligent to do something so stupid.”
Yvonne prayed Robbie was right because this afternoon her IQ had dropped about twenty points.
* * * * *
After Yvonne’s departure, Paulo jumped out of the pool. No sense in remaining since she’d taken all the heat. He grabbed his robe and yanked it on. His dick was so hard he could pile-drive a box of nails. He hadn’t had a hard on like this since he was a kid.
An hour and one long, cold shower later Paolo pulled his black Bentley into traffic.
He barely made it three blocks before his cell phone rang.
“Signor Saito,” a gravelly voice rumbled through the other end.
“Chi è questo?” Paulo asked in perfect Italian.
“This is Malfi. I tried calling you at home but your butler told me you were out.”
“What do you want?” Paulo bit out, unable to keep the growing impatience from his voice. I need to get laid! Yvonne Floyd had him tied in knots.
“Gutierrez.” Malfi paused for dramatic effect. For goodness sake, the man had taken his job too seriously. At times, he felt Malfi believed their involvement was some game of intrigue.
“What about him?” Paulo sighed unable to escape his nemesis.
“I toured his villa this morning and took pictures of him and his fiancée for an upcoming pictorial for Arrivederci! magazine.”
“And?” Paulo asked trying to keep his voice calm. Shifting the gears violently, he changed lanes.
“Other than the man is a clothes horse with a shirt in every color of the rainbow. A regular Valentino he is,” Malfi chuckled. His humor wasn’t shared by Paolo, who remained peevishly silent.
Malfi continued hurriedly, “I did notice something of interest though. When Bracci went to look in the master bedroom’s second closet, they dragged her downstairs. Once alone, I took a look and there was nothing there.”
Paolo almost pitched his cell phone out of the window. “You called me about an empty closet?”
“An empty closet proves they do not share a room together. The woman is nothing but a red herring to divert the media’s attention away from the rumors.”
Now it was Paulo’s turn to laugh. “Don’t be silly. No one would go to such lengths. I’ve got to go. I don’t like to talk on the phone while I’m driving. Find something else to dig up Malfi, ciao.”
Paulo hung up, but didn’t set his cell aside. He scrolled through the directory in search of a possible companion for the evening. But from beginning to end, Paolo found no one who caught his interest. His fondness for the beautiful, tall and unattached had suddenly paled to a very much taken dark-haired, brown-skinned vixen.
*****
“Did you make sure you packed the kitchen sink?”
Yvonne glanced at the three Louis Vuitton bags at the bottom of the stairs. They were only going on a three-day holiday to Venice, but Robbie had packed enough clothes for a month.
Robbie looked down at the bags and cocked his head. “I’m still debating on whether to pack the sink along with my black leather skinny jeans.”
Yvonne rolled her eyes. She might look high maintenance, but she was still plain ole’ Yvonne Floyd underneath the fashionable clothes. Thus the reason why she’d only packed a change of clothes for every day and managed to fit them into one hanging bag.
“The car’s here to take us to the airport, so you’re going to have to leave both of them behind.”
Robbie snapped his fingers. “Damn! The double sink would have looked so good with my Lost Sheep costume.”
Yvonne cringed. A self-professed diva, Robbie had taken the lead and with Little Bow Peep as his theme, he’d chosen their matching outfits for Matteo’s masked ball. For her, he’d selected a white frock with a pound of crinoline that made the abbreviated skirt flare out from her waist. The only thing, which kept her from being arrested for indecent exposure was a pair of white hot pants he bought to go underneath.
He completed the costume with a bonnet, white face mask called a bauta, shepherd’s staff and thigh high stiletto boots. She would be the naughty version of every child’s favorite shepherdess.
Robbie on the other hand would be International Male’s version of a lost sheep in a pair of buttery suede pants which laced up the front and shamefully emphasized his manhood. The custom-fitted pants were so tight he needed to jump from a roof to get into them. Opting to go shirtless, Robbie’s only other adornment would be a hand painted mask.
Not willing to start an argument she knew she couldn’t win, Yvonne toted her belongings outside. She handed the driver her bag and climbed into the back seat of the hired Mercedes, while Robbie juggled the disgusting excess he called ‘necessities’. He climbed in beside her and gave the driver their flight information.
They left slightly before noon to beat the midday rush and arrived at Rome’s Fiumicino Airport with time to spare before their flight. And before Yvonne could finish her complimentary champagne in first class, they were landing in Venice.
Shuttled into a private water taxi, they set off for the city center and Nico Matteo’s palazzo, Villa Reale, hunkered on Venice’s Grand Canal. Due to the holiday, the city teemed with people many of them costumed or wearing painted masks. During the twenty minute ride, they passed other boats and Ven
ice’s famous gondoliers along the narrow canals flanked by centuries old buildings that seemed to stand the test of time and a wet geography.
“It’s beautiful,” Yvonne whispered, awe struck by the ingenuity of the Venetians and the beauty of the palazzos, which emerged directly from the lagoon.
“Wait until you see Matteo’s mansion. Villa Reale takes up an entire street block.”
Upon their arrival, two servants greeted them at the docks. One stayed behind to handle their luggage while the other ushered them to their suite of rooms. Given two hours to rest before dinner, Yvonne decided to take a tour of their host’s property.
Considering the price tag of Robbie’s endorsement deal, Yvonne expected Matteo to have more money than King Midas. And after taking a brief tour of the estate, his wealth was confirmed. One of three properties Matteo personally owned Villa Reale was by far the largest at sixteen thousand square feet.
After completing her tour, Yvonne bathed and then dressed in an emerald green cocktail dress handpicked by Robbie, of course. As they descended the stairs to the formal dining room, they rehearsed all the pertinent information regarding their ‘relationship’.
“Now don’t be nervous,” Robbie assured her before they entered the dining room. “I’ll be right by your side the entire time.”
*****
“I’m going to steal you from Robbie?”
Nico Matteo chuckled as his green eyes dipped to the décolletage of Yvonne’s cocktail dress.
Yvonne clutched the dinner napkin folded in her lap. For the better part of the evening, she’d suffered their host’s advances. Robbie wasn’t much help seated several chairs down and ensconced between an Italian duke and a Bavarian heiress.
Remembering Robbie’s unsigned endorsement contract, Yvonne plastered on a smile and bore the other man’s company. “What would you do with me once you had me?”
Matteo’s expression grew serious and Yvonne tensed. So help her, if he mentioned anything about licking toes.