Italian Stallions (18 page)

“My meetings finished early and I decided I wanted to be home for the weekend.” He crooked his head so he could grin down at her. “Disappointed?”

She gave him a sly smile. “No. Surprised, definitely, but not disappointed.”

He pulled her up his chest so he could kiss her. The heavy weight of her breasts pressed against him, and to his amusement his dick made a valiant effort to revive. “Tell me,” he said between slow, lazy kisses, “did you do that every night while I was away?”

“What?” She whispered, chasing his tongue into his mouth. “Take a bath?”

“Yeah, and masturbate while you did it,” he said, catching her hand and guiding it to the base of his stomach where his cock was tenting up against the sheets. He groaned and arched up into her hand as she stroked along his length.

“Does the idea of that make you hot?” she whispered, kissing and nipping her way along his jaw to his ear. Her tongue flicked out to taste his earlobe, and he felt himself harden another inch.

His hands roamed restlessly over the silky skin of her back and sides. “It makes me fucking insane. The idea of you, naked and wet in my bathroom, touching yourself here.” He reached between them and palmed her swollen heat.

“Tonight was the first time,” she said, her voice a little shaky as he probed her folds with gentle fingers. She had to be sore, sensitive, but still she shifted her legs open to give him better access.

“What were you thinking about?”

She didn’t answer, but he saw the truth in her dark eyes as they flicked up to meet his.

Renewed arousal shot straight to his cock, making him almost painfully hard. “You were thinking of me, weren’t you? How it would feel to have me touch you, how it would feel to have me fuck you.” Her face flushed red even as evidence of her need soaked his stroking fingers. He felt something unfamiliar tug at his chest.

She was such a contradiction. So sexy with her killer curves and take-no-crap attitude, yet surprisingly ill at ease when it came to sex. Before tonight he would have said it was a turn off—he liked his lovers self-assured and assertive, liked women who knew exactly what they wanted and weren’t shy about telling him.

But tonight Theresa’s unexpected blushes and flashes of uncertainty were driving him absolutely fucking wild. He wanted to indulge her in any and every fantasy she could think of. “Tell me what you imagined,” he said, sliding his fingers deeper inside the slippery folds of her pussy. “What were you thinking of before you saw me there? How did you imagine me touching you?”

This was too much, Theresa thought, too intimate. The sliding strokes of his fingers between her legs, the thick invasion of his cock inside her—all that she could handle. But speaking her intimate, erotic fantasies out loud was well beyond her comfort zone.

Besides, her rusty sexual imagination hadn’t been able to come up with anything like what actually happened. “Trust me,” she said in a shaky voice, “the reality of you is way better than anything I could have imagined.”

His cock flexed in her hand, saving her from feeling like an inexperienced twit for admitting that out loud. She looked down and her mouth went dry at the sight of him in her hand. She’d never found penises particularly attractive, but his was gorgeous, the shaft thick and long, topped by a luscious plum-shaped head. She squeezed him firmly, loving the way his pulse pounded against her fingers, the way his breath caught and he seemed to get harder with every touch. Answering liquid heat gathered between her legs and he spread it around with thick, blunt-tipped fingers.

He pulled her more fully on top of him and she landed with her knees splayed on either side of his hips. His hands tangled in her wet hair and he held her still for his kiss. “I can’t believe how much I want you,” he said, almost as though to himself. “I just came so hard I almost passed out, and I already want you again.”

His words filled her with the same uncharacteristic boldness that had urged her to return his kiss earlier, urged her to go with the flow of their explosive sexual chemistry and damn the consequences. Without breaking their kiss, she reached over to the bedside table drawer to find a second condom. Within seconds she had him sheathed and was sinking down on his thick, hard shaft.

He pulled her down so they were chest to breast, his mouth locked to hers as his hips rocked in an easy counter-rhythm. His big hands splayed across her back, roamed down to squeeze her hips and ass, slipped between their bodies to stroke and squeeze her breasts.

His hands gripped her hips, holding her still for his deep, probing thrusts. His tongue tangled with hers and his groans rumbled through her as his caresses became hungrier, his thrusts more frantic.

His pleasure sparked hers and she spread her knees wide to take him deeper. Her orgasm broke in a long wave, and as she rippled and clenched around him, she could feel him getting impossibly bigger, harder inside her. She knew he was close. Reaching behind her, she lightly cupped the heavy weight of his balls, drawn tight against his body as his climax loomed.

He came with a shout, his hands gripping her hips hard as he ground himself against her.

Afterwards, Theresa lay in the dark, listening to the soothing cadence of Vince’s breath, completely overwhelmed by what had happened tonight. Not by the sex, amazing as it was. But boy how Vince made her feel. The way he touched her—it was as arousing as hell, but it also made her feel…cherished.

Theresa shoved the thought aside. She wasn’t about to let herself get carried away by a few orgasms, no matter how good they were. Her three-year relationship with Mark Silverton had beaten had any romantic idealism she’d possessed out of her.

Literally.

She snuggled closer to him, unable to banish the depressing realization that he was the kind of man she should have waited for. If she’d only been smarter, more mature, less impetuous, less frantic to break free of her overprotective father, she might have become the kind of woman who stood a chance with a guy like Vince.

Well, she’d made her mistakes and now she had to live with them. The reality was she was a twenty-four-year-old cocktail waitress with only a year and a half of college under her belt, and a not so spotless past to boot.

Not exactly the kind of woman she’d seen on Vince’s arm in the pictures taken at society galas featuring San Francisco’s snobbiest. She’d googled him. So sue her.

But instead of getting out of bed and going back to her apartment like common sense dictated, she snuggled closer to Vince, shivering in delight as he pulled her closer even in sleep. She would never be the kind of woman Vince wanted, but she was going stave off that harsh reality, if only for a few more hours.

V
ince awoke to the familiar sensation of Chester’s stinky dog breath huffing in his face. He cracked open one eyelid and that was all the encouragement the dog needed. Chester emitted a sharp whine and enthusiastically shoved his cold, wet nose against Vince’s cheek. Vince barely managed to close his mouth before he was assaulted by a canine French kiss.

He felt a stirring next to him and smiled as he rolled over to see Theresa’s dark head next to his on the pillow. She lay on her side facing away from him, one hand tucked up under the pillow. He slid his arm around her waist and drew her closer, sighing in satisfaction as his morning erection bumped up against the soft, warm curve of her ass. She sighed and snuggled closer, but just as Vince slipped one hand up to cup her breast, Chester padded over to her side of the bed. The dog put his paws up and lunged for Theresa’s face, hitting her square on the chin with his big pink tongue.

Theresa groaned and buried her face in the pillow. “Five more minutes,” she mumbled sleepily and rolled to face Vince. Her brow was knit into a frown, her eyes squeezed tight as though fiercely guarding her sleep. He looked at the clock. It was barely after six, but thanks to being on east coast time he was wide awake despite having spent most of the night doing anything but sleep.

Chester nudged Theresa again. She buried her face into the pillow with a frustrated sigh.

As much as he wanted to wake Theresa up with his tongue between her thighs, she needed her sleep. Especially, he thought rather smugly, after the way he’d tired her out last night. Unable to resist touching her one last time, he leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to her shoulder and whispered, “I’ll take him out.”

After a quick cup of coffee, he laced up his running shoes and took Chester for a long morning run. Maybe it was the lack of sleep, the eerie quiet of the San Francisco streets this early on a Saturday morning, but he felt like he was existing in some surreal, dreamlike state. It had started last night, when he’d come home to the totally unexpected sight of Theresa, naked in his bathtub.

His cock hardened at the memory, and he was glad no one was around to see since the baggy shorts offered nothing in the way of camouflage. The sex had been awesome, straight out of his wildest dreams. Hot housesitter. Naked and showing herself a good time the precise moment he walked in the door. Oh, yeah.

A dark thought entered his mind as he turned up the last steep hill before home. What if Theresa, in her dire financial straits, had decided to put herself out there to get a little extra beyond reduced rent?

The thought brought a bad taste to his mouth. But he didn’t know why he cared. In the last several years since he’d really started making money, the women he’d dated had definitely appreciated his bank account as much as they’d appreciated him. He’d willingly spent the money to entertain them, understanding it was all part of the package.

But the idea of Theresa wanting him for the size of his wallet made him a little sick.

He shoved the thought aside. Of course she hadn’t set it up. He’d gotten so used to everyone, including his own family, asking him for favors and hitting him up for money, that he was suspicious of everyone’s motives. Theresa had had no idea he was coming home early, and besides, from what he knew of her from their previous interactions, she wasn’t the type. Despite her gorgeous face and bombshell body, she had a certain reserve to her. An edge that warned people—especially men, he guessed—not to get too close.

But last night, he reflected as he opened the front gate to his house, that reserve had gone up in flames. He was so hard now he was aching just thinking about it. He hadn’t been this attracted to a woman, ever. But he didn’t know where it could go. A relationship was a complication he didn’t need right now. Yes, he wanted her, with an intensity he’d never experienced before, but he was too old, not to mention too fuckin’ busy, to be led around by his dick. No matter how much he liked and wanted Theresa, he didn’t have time to go chasing around after a twenty-something waitress who happened to inspire massive hardons. Even if he wanted to actually have a relationship with her, he didn’t have time to spend worrying about another person’s wants and needs.

Christ, he thought as he unlocked the door and led Chester into the entryway, he couldn’t even properly care for a dog, which was what had prompted him to ask Theresa to move here in the first place. He hoped she would understand where he was coming from. Underneath her tough girl exterior, he could sense she’d been hurt before. The last thing he wanted was to hurt her more.

Theresa jumped and dropped her spoon when she heard the front door close. She’d woken up to find herself alone in Vince’s bed, pleasurably sore in places she didn’t know she had muscles and alternately horrified and aroused as memories of the previous night bombarded her. She pulled on her clothes and went back to her little place, relieved that Vince had apparently taken Chester out for his morning constitutional.

After a quick shower, she changed into sweats and forced herself to go back to the main house and wait for Vince. The urge to take off and spend all day avoiding him was almost overwhelming, but she had to get a few things straight, the sooner the better.

She didn’t know what had come over her last night. She wanted to blame it on fatigue, on the wine, but she knew the truth. She had it bad for Vince Mattera, and had from the first moment she’d laid eyes on him. Reminding herself that she barely knew him didn’t help. Neither did pointing out the fact that the last time she’d given into the notion of love at first sight, she’d wasted three years with a compulsive gambler and drug addict who’d knocked her around.

Not that Vince was anything like that. But nothing was likely to ever come of it, and since that was the case, she needed to nip this in the bud before anything else happened. Or, God forbid, he got any inkling of how she felt about him.

Now her stomach twisted into knots as she heard Chester’s pounding paws coming down the hall, followed by Vince’s heavier footsteps. She composed herself, determined to play it cool and casual, let him know that what happened, while no skin off her nose, could under no circumstances happen again.

Her mouth went dry as Vince walked into the kitchen. His dark eyes lit up and his mouth quirked into a sexy smile when he saw her sitting at the breakfast bar. “Good morning,” he said, his voice melting over her like dark chocolate. His thick hair was damp and his T-shirt was dark at the neckline from exertion. She should have been grossed out, but all she wanted to do was rip his clothes off and use her tongue to catch every last drop of sweat.

She ignored the heat throbbing between her legs. “Thanks for taking Chester out,” she said, striving for a casual tone. “I didn’t mean to shirk my duties.”

He poured himself a cup of coffee. “I figured you needed your sleep,” he said with a knowing look.

Heat flooded her cheeks and she wished she didn’t feel like an awkward, inexperienced teenager. She took her cue from Vince, who seemed to take having morning-after coffee with a woman in stride. He sat down next to her at the counter and opened the paper as though he hadn’t spent most of last night exploring her naked body. Which was good, she told herself. It made what she had to say that much easier.

As it turned out, he beat her to the punch. “Theresa, about what happened last night,” he began.

She might not have a lot of experience with guys, but she knew from his tone exactly what he was going to say.

“It was amazing.”

She didn’t reply. His compliment gave her an initial thrill, what he said next sent her promptly back to earth.

“But I don’t have time for any kind of a relationship right now.”

She pasted a smile on her face. “Oh my God, neither do I. I mean, honestly, I just got out of a relationship, and, no offense, but I think last night was, you know, rebound sex.”

“Rebound sex?”

She barreled on as though she knew exactly what she was talking about, as though Vince wasn’t only the second guy in the world she’d ever had sex with. “You know, rebound sex, to clear the slate until I’m, uh, emotionally open to a new relationship.” She took another sip of her coffee, hoping he couldn’t smell the bullshit. Because the truth was that if she thought she had even a remote chance of landing Vince, she would have opened herself way up, emotionally and otherwise.

He gazed at her with a faintly bemused look on his face. “Kinda like a sex aperitif?”

“Exactly,” she said, finishing her coffee and hopping off her stool. “And as far as I’m concerned, a one-time thing.”

“That’s probably best,” he said with a nod as though they’d just closed a business transaction. She felt inexplicably wounded, wishing he would protest, even a little. No, it was better this way, she told herself firmly. His swift agreement solidified her conviction that while last night had completely rocked her world, for him it had been nothing more than scratching an itch. For him it
had
been rebound sex. And while she felt this impossible, irrational, intense attraction to him, she was undoubtedly nothing more than a pretty woman who had conveniently shown up naked in his bathtub.

She couldn’t have made it any easier for him if she wanted to.

Vince watched Theresa retreat from the kitchen, Chester trotting at her heels.

That had gone a lot smoother than he’d expected, especially given his recent breakup experiences. Not that he could really consider his discussion with Theresa a breakup, since you had to be in a relationship with a woman to dump her.

Or had she dumped him? She’d been so quick to jump in, had looked so horrified when the word relationship had popped out of his mouth. And called him a pussy, but her rebound sex comment kind of stung. He dumped the last of his coffee in the sink and went upstairs to take a shower.

He entered the bathroom and his gaze immediately locked on the bathtub. As visions of Theresa, slippery, wet, and naked flooded his brain, he was forced to admit that last night had been more than just a casual fuck, more than something as simple as rebound sex. At least on his part.

He ripped his gaze away, mentally going through his to-do list as he turned on the shower. He stripped down and stepped beneath the hot spray. What the fuck was wrong with him? Instead of being happy she was all too willing to dismiss what had happened as no big deal, he was pissed. Pissed she could so easily blow it off.

But mostly pissed that he wasn’t going to have her again.

What was it about her that made him crave her like a drug? That had him hard as a spike and aching to hustle over to her apartment and throw her down on the bed? Maybe it was a taste of home—she reminded him of the girls he used to date in high school back in Queens. Good Italian Catholic girls who played hard to get until he got them into the sack.

Maybe after years of dating tall, lean WASP-y types, he was craving a taste of home.

Maybe so. For sure Theresa Bellessi drove him completely
pazzo
with her smooth skin, her lush ass, her beautiful big tits. He imagined her now, her dark, thick-lashed eyes looking at him like she’d looked at him last night. Like she wanted to cover him in whipped cream and lick him from head to toe.

And her mouth…God, her mouth was so full and pink. His cock ached, his balls tightened up at the thought of her lips and tongue on him. He soaped his palm and gripped his cock in his fist. Christ, he was pathetic, jacking off while the woman he wanted was less than a hundred feet away. But he couldn’t stop the fantasy. In his mind Theresa appeared naked in front of him, her hair spilling, thick and dark over her shoulders. Her dark nipples would peek out from between the strands.

She would press herself against him, rubbing against him like a cat in heat before sliding to her knees. She’d soap up her tits and rub his cock all over them, circling her nipples with the head, stroking his shaft in her firm grip.

He pumped his fist faster, leaning back against the slate shower wall. Fantasy Theresa was just about to suck him between her lips when he came, muffling his shout as he spurted all over his fingers.

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to hold onto the vision as harsh reality intruded. He was alone in his shower, his cock in his own hand. And, he thought ruefully, even in his dreams he hadn’t managed to get a blow job.

Several hours later, Vince still couldn’t get Theresa out of his head. He was supposed to be returning calls and returning emails, but he found himself staring out the window of his office, which happened to afford him an unobstructed view of the entrance to her apartment. She’d gone out late in the morning and had returned several hours later carrying a brown shopping bag.

He was working an excuse to go check on her when she left again, this time with Chester in tow. She was wearing stretchy yoga pants and a long sleeved T-shirt, but the way her breasts and hips filled them was somehow sexier than if she was wearing skimpy lingerie. While she was gone, Vince managed to power through his email backlog, only to be distracted again by Chester’s happy bark upon their return.

Instead of going immediately back to the guest cottage, Theresa stayed in the yard with Chester. She unclipped his leash and took Chester through several obedience exercises, all of which the dog failed miserably. Vince’s lips quirked in a smile and he couldn’t help but admire her efforts. When he invited her to move in to take care of Chester, he’d expected her to simply keep the dog out of trouble. She’d surprised him by asking him if it was okay to sign Chester up for obedience classes, then presented him with a receipt for several dog training books.

He watched Theresa force Chester to sit by pushing on his butt, directing him to stay with a hand held up in front of the dog’s face. It lasted for about all of two seconds before the dog walked over to her, tail wagging as he shoved his head into her hand for a pet. She patiently led him back to the other side of the yard and started the process over again.

She obviously took this seriously, and it was important for her to do a good job. Like at the restaurant—she could have easily skated on the fact that she was family, but she hustled around that bar more than anyone. She always remembered what the regulars drank and never forgot an order.