My Italian Billionaire: A BWWM Italian Billionaire Romance (15 page)

Between his fingers and his lips and tongue and the scandalicious words he was whispering into her ears, she'd managed to come twice before they even reached his place.

Arm in arm, clothes askew, they tumbled out of the limo in a heap. Giggling, they helped each other up and fumbled their way inside. It was almost a war to see who could strip the clothes off the other first. His suit coat dropped first, and he ripped off her shirt.

"That's two you owe me for," she murmured as she undid his top few buttons.

"Keeping count are you?"

"Can't afford two shirts?"

He yanked down on her pants zipper so hard the zipper broke. "I swear I didn't do that on purpose."

"Pants too. What next? Panties?" she teased as she shimmied his shirt up and over his head without having to unbutton it all of the way.

"You can have what you want." He reached behind her back and unclasped her bra with one hand.

"I just want you."

His pants, her panties, his boxers, socks, shoes, the clothes trailed a path behind them. They were both completely naked by the time they reached the dining room, and when they shifted toward the kitchen, Lucca picked her up. "I can't wait any longer."

His penis was jabbing against her, long and hard, and his tongue danced with hers, dueling, fighting, winning, losing. Were there winners or losers? She felt like she was floating on air, and yet he grounded her. Sure, there was a lot she still had to learn about him, but there was a lot he had to learn about her too. And now they had time.

This, right now, this was about them. This was the start of their relationship.

Lucca Greccio was her boyfriend.

"If you don't want to wait, why should you?" she murmured against his neck before licking his earlobe.

With ease, he placed her on the breakfast nook, where Georgia's food arrangement had been she noted with a chuckle.

"What's so funny?" he asked as he spread her legs.

"Nothing. Everything."

The grin he flashed her told her he knew exactly what she meant. He kissed up one leg and down the other, skipping her more sensitive spots. She was dying. He was killing her.

She loved every second of it.

Her fingers found his dark curls, and to some extent, he allowed her to dictate where he would pleasure her, although he would suck and lick her thighs and gave chaste kisses when she had him nearing her sex. The man sure knew how to torture her, but if this was torture, put her on the rack, she wanted more. So much more. All he had to give and then some.

The next time his lips touched her lower ones, pressure mounted inside of her but not quite enough for her to find release. He would bring her to the brink and then would pull away to kiss her mouth or to lick a nipple, just enough for her to not be able to climax. When he did it a fourth time, she had enough. He had been the torture master for far too long. If he could dish it out, he better be able to handle it. And if she knew him, as she did at least in this sense, then he could and would handle it just fine. Didn't mean he wouldn't eventually cry uncle. Teasing only went so far. Foreplay had its place, but there was something to be said about the main event.

She shoved him back, jumped down, and deep throated him.

"Oh…" He mumbled something in Italian.

Now that was hot. She sucked him even harder for that, but then his hands touched her hair, and she pulled back.

"Tease," he growled.

"You too." She tickled his balls and licked his head, enjoying that he was growing even harder the more she played with him.

"I… I have to have you."

"Not yet." She pushed against his chest so he sat on a bar stool. Her upper thighs were so slick as she moved about his kitchen, trying to find what she needed. He didn't have what she wanted, but whipped cream and chocolate sauce would more than suit her purposes. Actually… that bowl of cherries would do quite nicely too.

His eyes widened as she approached. "I—"

She sprayed some whipped cream into his mouth. "No talking."

His tongue licked his lips, and she almost dropped the chocolate sauce. Everything the man did was sexy and provocative.

The whipped cream felt so cold against her nipples as she covered them. Lucca leaned forward and immediately licked the cream from the right one. It felt so damn good—his tongue and the contrast of his hot mouth and the cold cream—that she couldn't even be upset that he was trying to take some measure of control back. This wasn't about who was in charge. This was about both of them. Give and take. Take and give. Pleasure for both of their sakes.

She gave him her other nipple and almost orgasmed from it. Now she was teasing herself, and when she would come this time, she knew she would be in heaven.

But he needed some food on him, so she drizzled chocolate onto his penis. With deliberate slowness, she licked it off, from the base up toward the top. She added some more, plus whipped cream, and balanced a cherry on top.

Her own penis popsicle.

She had to hold the cherry in place as she again licked the chocolate and some cream. The cherry had the added flavor of his precum, which only increased her desire for him.

"I'm hungry too," he murmured.

"Are you?" She placed a finger inside herself then wiped off some of the chocolate and cream from his penis.

He guided the finger into his mouth and sucked hard. "Mmm…"

"Like that, do you?"

His penis twitched. "Why am I not surprised you want to include food in foreplay?"

"Why not?" She plopped a cherry into his mouth.

He grabbed the sauce and dripped some onto her breasts. Slowly, painstakingly, he licked most of it off. He dipped a few cherries to mop off the rest and gave her some to eat and enjoyed the rest.

Cherries just might be her new favorite food.

But chocolate would always be her first love. She drizzled a little onto his chest and lazily traced out "Megan" and "Lucca." It was hardly legible, but she sure enjoyed licking her mess.

"You could smear chocolate all over me if you want," he whispered. "I would do anything for you, you know that, don't you?"

"I thought I said no talking." She held up the whipped cream, grinning.

He seized her wrist gently, pulling her close, his penis throbbing against her wet thighs. "I told you that I could grow to love you. I meant that. I would be honored to date you and see if that happens, but not on any set timeline. If we do fall in love and marry, it doesn't have to be before my birthday."

Her head was swimming, and she lowered her hands. "But what about your father's company?"

"You are more important. Finding out if you're the one for me." He took the chocolate sauce and whipped cream from her hands, placed them on the breakfast nook, stood, and carried her to his bedroom. With a gentle thrust, he eased inside her. Slow and steady. He kissed her, licked her, caressed every part of her, and she returned every gesture with care and tenderness. This was incredible. It was making love, it was perfect, and she'd been right. When she orgasmed, it was the strongest one she'd ever had. From his groaning and moaning, his had to be rather amazing too.

They fell asleep in each other's arms, and Megan almost didn't want to wake up. This was all she needed. She had a new job, a new man, and a new sense of purpose in her life.

She was free. And she was happy.

Chapter Twenty-One: Happiness

Six weeks of complete happiness had Lucca wondering what he had done to deserve his life. Megan was almost more woman than he could handle, and he loved every second he spent with her. He treasured everything about her. From the way the lines formed above her nose when she was deep in thought to the way she could so nonchalantly throw random ingredients together and make something delicious. From the way she kept him on his toes to the way she challenged him. She wasn't afraid to speak her mind. He no longer compared her to the women he'd dated before. None of those women mattered.

His birthday was in two weeks. He planned a surprise vacation with her for the first week of November. They would go to Italy so she could meet some of his extended family. On the last night, he would propose.

"But why?" Paul had asked when he learned of Lucca's plans. "Just ask her now. Everyone can see how crazy in love you two are. She'll say yes. You'll keep the company. And marry for love. It's a win-win-win."

"I want her to know that I love her for her."

"Enough to give up your father's company, the one you helped built? You know she'd never want you to do that for her."

Nothing would dissuade him.

That night, when he arrived at his house, a single light was on. He grinned. Megan hadn't agreed to move in yet—she still liked her independence—but it meant she was here. He loved coming home to her at night.

He opened the door. Instead of finding Megan, he spied a note on the breakfast nook.

Change into the clothes on your bed and head on over to the gardens.

"What do you have in mind?" He found a tux on his bed, and he changed swiftly. The gardens were a part of his property nearly a mile away, and he jogged toward them. Maybe she had set up a picnic dinner. She was always surprising him with things like that. When she'd mentioned that she was seriously contemplating opening her own restaurant, he bought her a computer complete with software to help her figure out what kind of capital she'd need, how much to renovate a building into a restaurant versus buying out an existing one… They spent a lot of time on that, when they weren't busy spending time with each other's bodies.

The closer he neared the gardens, the more light he saw. Candles. A picnic. He'd been right.

But then he saw her walking toward him, wearing a full white gown. She kneeled in front of him and clasped his hand. "Lucca Greccio, you wanted to find a real relationship, and we found each other. We might be different, but we're compatible in many ways too. We make each other happy, and I love you and I know you love me. Will you forsake being an ordinary millionaire and become a CEO instead?"

He couldn't find words at first. "Megan, what are you saying?"

Her lips curled into a blinding smile. "I'm asking you to marry me!"

All the air went out of his chest. "Yes?"

She giggled. "Can you say it a little more convincingly when the time comes?" Megan pointed.

He glanced over to the right to see hundreds of people waiting in chairs on either side of a carpet, a flower arch at the end. "You organized our wedding."

"Yes."

"Behind my back."

"Yes. Paul told me you wanted to wait. I don't want to, and you definitely don't have to give up your company for me. We've only been together for a short amount of time, but I know what I want, and you do too. Admit it."

"I would do anything for you."

Her giggle had him laughing too. "I know."

"But if I had said no?"

"Then it would've just been a party." She shrugged. "None of our relatives know it's supposed to be our wedding, although as soon as you walk down the aisle and
Here Comes the Bride
starts, I think they'll get the idea."

"Our relatives. All of them?"

"All of them, even the ones from Italy. My parents too."

"I just… How did you do all this?"

"The computer you gave me is amazing when it comes to organizing things and budgets and lists and are we just going to talk about the wedding or are we going to get married?"

He tried to lean down for a kiss, but she darted away and hid behind a tree. "It's bad luck to see the bride before the wedding," she called.

"I don't have need for luck, good or bad. Not when I have you."

"Shoo, go on now!"

Laughing, he straightened his tie and proceeded to march down the carpet. Relatives murmured as he walked past, and a pastor appeared at the end under the archway. When the pianist started to play, a hushed silence fell over the crowd as they stood. Megan walked down the aisle by herself. While she and her parents had made major headway with regards to their damaged relationship, she obviously hadn't opted for her father to give her away. No, she was giving herself away. To him. For the rest of her life.

Most of the ceremony was a blur to Lucca. He did remember sweeping Megan into his arms and dipping her back for a long, wet kiss. His beautiful bride. His black warrior queen. As the pastor proclaimed them man and wife, Lucca knew his father had to be looking down on them with a smile on his face. Lucca had found love, and he couldn't be happier that his father had made that stipulation in the will. Without it, he might never have tried to be an ordinary millionaire. He might never have offered Megan dinner to make up for spilling coffee on her shirt. He might never have settled down.

But he had. And he loved and was loved. Lucca and Megan Greccio. How he liked the sound of that. The vacation he'd planned for them could be their honeymoon. Everything was good. Life was perfect. Actually, his life had just started.

Publisher’s Notes