ROMANCE: THREESOME : Billionaire Brothers' Party (MFM Menage Romance) (New Adult Contemporary Threesome Short Stories) (91 page)

Naomi snorted.

“Cute?” she repeated, adding as she raised a definitive finger for emphasis, “Girl, in the words of the immortal Joan Rivers, can we talk? Michelangelo’s Statue of David is cute. That man is a verified stunner.”

She and the clerk exchanged a festive high five as both women burst out in a hearty round of robust sisterly laughter.

“I quite agree,” the clerk declared with a nod. “And, if all goes well, perhaps you can get to know the stunner later on this week.”

Naomi nodded.

“All things considered, Miss, I’d far rather that we meet again sooner,” she quipped, “as opposed to later. Get my drift?”

These words echoed in Naomi’s mind a few moments later, as she stood facing the second most beautiful, ebullient vision she’d witnessed that day.

Designed in what the desk clerk described as classic Tuscan style, her deluxe suite radiated in tones of ivory, scarlet and greatest gold, with these lovely hues expressing themselves in the woods and fabrics that blended to create this dream of a suite.

The room’s centerpiece, a canopied four poster bed, came swathed in reams of lush red jacquard; an elite fabric that formed the textured comforter covering its surface, as well as serving to cover the canopy and throw pillows that completed the look of this elaborate resting place.

Just briefly Naomi’s rebellious mind conjured an unbidden image, one that placed the stunning Angelo square at the center of this luxurious bed, beckoning to her in a blatant invitation for her to join him between the sheets.

“I tell ya one thing. That man would not have to beckon or invite for long,” she mused with a grin, her wandering gaze taking in the shiny limestone columns, the marble walls and plush ivory carpeting, the sparkling gold leaf chandelier that lent a luminous cast to the entire suite.

“Bellissimo,” she whispered, her eyes finally coming to rest on yet another splendorous accent of this deluxe boudoir.

Displayed with grace on the engraved sandal wood table that bordered her bed, the bouquet of dew glistened, ruby red roses added another welcome accent of old world glamour to her intoxicating new atmosphere. Situated in a vase of gold hued jade and surrounded by sprigs of soft ivory baby’s breath, this lustrous bouquet brought light and luminescence to her already vibrant surroundings.

“It certainly is the most beautiful bouquet I’ve ever laid eyes on,” Naomi gushed, adding as she reached for the gold toned room phone that lay just beside the bouquet, “Of course, considering that my last bouquet came in the form of a weak sprig of three day old wildflowers, purchased at the gas station conveniently located next to my ex-boyfriend’s apartment complex, just about any bouquet that fails to feature poison ivy as a primary ingredient is pretty darned impressive.”

“Hello?” The same soft voice that had welcomed her to the hotel now resounded loud and clear at the other end of the line. “This is Rosanna at the front desk, how may I help you?”

“Hi Rosanna, it’s Naomi in room 10,” she greeted the clerk in a warm, cherry tone. “This room is beautiful and impeccably clean—you folks do a great job here! And the roses are such a nice extra touch—one I certainly was not expecting.”

Rosanna chuckled.

“Actually, Naomi, our staff didn’t send you the flowers. Angelo did.”

Naomi froze.

“Well that was sweet,” Naomi allowed, adding with a broad shrug, “but how on earth did he send flowers to a woman whose name he doesn’t know—and who, as an added bonus, doesn’t even speak his language? I AM SO CONFUSED.” 

Rosanna laughed.

“Well as it turns out, your fantasy man returned to the lobby moments after you left,” she revealed, adding in a lowered, confidential tone, “He ordered a bouquet from our lobby gift shop and requested that it be sent to your room—along with a special card.”

Sending a sharp look in the direction of the bouquet, Naomi’s eyes widened as they beheld a piece of folded crème colored parchment protruding from its smooth silken petals; one emblazoned with the image of a lace trimmed favor heart that shone bright ruby red from the surface of the paper.

“Ah, I see it now,” her tone was vague and absent as she signed off for the call—turning her attentions to the bountiful bouquet that now held special meaning.

Lifting the card with delicate fingers from its place in her bouquet, Naomi unfolded the smooth crème parchment to read a simple handwritten message that—despite its brevity and simplicity—managed to make her heart pound.

“Bellissimo. 21,” read the cryptic missive.

“So once again, he tells me that I’m lovely. So far so good,” she mused, adding with a frown, “But what in the blazes is 21? Is that his age? His room number? Both?”

Regardless of the answer to this question, she decided that—after getting a good night’s sleep—she would pay a visit to room 21; so she could get to know its hopeful occupant a whole heck of a lot better….

The number “21” shone forth in bold, shiny lettering from the surface of a solid cherry wood door; holding the attention of the woman who studied its intricacies with unseeming concentration.

“I always did wonder as to how much time it would take to cut out and cast such perfectly formed letters,” she mused, adding as she rolled her eyes heavenward, “OK Naomi, ex nay with the stallin’. Go on and do what we’re here to do.”

After finally locating her translation book last night, she had researched and learned to say the following phrase: “Good morning, thank you for the lovely roses. I know you have a job to do here, and probably intend to spend the day pouting, posing, and generally lookin’ hot. If however you have some extra time this morning, I’d love for you to join me for a little bit of sightseeing.”

She’d practiced this spiel several times this morning in front of the mirror, as she dressed for the day in a satiny ruby red sundress that flattered and accentuated the curves of her rubenesque form. Then, after applying a coat of her signature ruby red lipstick and running a brush through the strands of her ebony hair, she headed out to the ever illusive room 27; where she hoped to find the man who’d filled and haunted her dreams the evening beforehand.

When her soft knock on the door before her resulted in the appearance of the most beautiful man she’d ever seen, she nearly forgot her spiel. Yet eventually she recited it, encouraged by the warm smile of greeting that heralded her arrival.

After wildly applauding her awkward turns of phrase, an impressed Angelo—dressed fetching that day in a tight, form fitting back silk shirt and matching pants--immediately agreed to a day of sightseeing. And, after summoning that mysterious vehicle known in various places (or so she’d recently learned) as a taxi, the couple soon found themselves standing stock still before one of the eight wonders of the world.

Naomi gaped outright as she beheld the tall golden spectacle that was the Roman coliseum, a classically designed amphitheater whose outer wall stood more than 150 feet in height.

“Bellissimo,” she praised, smiling in awe as she witnessed before her the wondrous landmark that stood so tall and proud before her admiring eyes.

She took in her breath as her quiet companion turned to her with a single smooth flourish and agreed in a low, sultry tone, “Si, Naomi. Bellissimo.”

Naomi froze, once again lost in the depths of his boundless dark eyes as he once again seared her with that hot, unyielding stare.

“Why do I get the idea that he’s talking about me?” she mused, her own gaze seeming to seek the meaning and truth in his. “And not the Coliseum?”

Clearing her throat loudly and seeking to ease the thick sensual attention that seemed to hold them captive, Naomi began to recite some facts that she had learned as a docent at her art museum back home; delivering these fascinating factoids in a bizarre mixture of Italian and English as she lead him by the hand into the monument that marked and defined the city of Rome.

“The original name for this amazing structure was the Flavian Amphitheater, as it was built by emperors of that particular dynasty,” she reported, trying to ignore the heat of his intense stare as they made their way to the interior of the structure. “At one point it could hold up to 80,000 people, who came to see everything from classic mythological dramas to incredible gladiator competitions.” She paused here, adding in a softer, wistful voice as thrilling tingles coursed the length of her spine, “I still can see them down there in the pit, Angelo. I can see those big, handsome gladiators, confronting one another with such pride and ferocity. It’s very exciting, when one thinks about it.”

Angelo nodded.

“Naomi es ex-cit-ed?” he purred, moving just a bit closer to her in the broad aisle overlooking the Coliseum. “She es eccitato?”

Turning toward her companion with a single smooth flourish, Naomi finally met his eyes in full as she whispered, “Si.”

Her excitement grew and enhanced seconds later, as—holding her gaze—a flirtatious Angelo stripped his ultra-tight black shirt over his head and tossed it off to the side; revealing a hard, massive bronzed chest that gleamed in the rays of the sun above him.

Naomi watched enrapt as her enthralling companion flexed the muscles of his chest and arms, his firm flawless pecs and washboard abs flexing and rolling for her pleasure as he struck a pose worthy of a classic Roman gladiator.

Then he threw his head back as reams of his dark silken hair flared wild in the breeze around them; finally settling loose around his bulging shoulders as he stared at her through narrowed eyes.

“Oh my God,” she breathed, her hungry gaze devouring his muscular perfection as he posed and pouted for her pleasure. “You look so much like a gladiator in your natural element. I am so, what was the word you used, eccitato. You are bellissimo.”

She smiled as her own private gladiator surged forward with strong, purposeful steps; acting every inch the role of the brave, timeless warrior coming home to claim his lady.

Naomi offered no resistance as an impassioned Angelo swept her up into two strong arms; claiming her lips in a heated kiss as their bodies pressed together in a sinful clench.

His full, moist lips massaged hers as their tongues entangled between them, his mouth plying hers with intense kisses as his gentle, sturdy hands rubbed and massaged the skin of her exposed back.                    Leaning full into Angelo’s kiss, Naomi ran her own famished hands down the surface of his muscular torso; stroking his rock hard pecs and tickling his sculpted abs with adoring motions as she devoured his sensual lips.

Their imposing public surroundings dissolved around them as she seemed to lose herself in all things Angelo; relishing the taste of his sumptuous thick lips and the feel of his fingers against her bare skin—also losing herself in his citrus tinged scent and feeling the light sweep of his lustrous hair as it grazed the skin of her broad sturdy shoulders.

For a time the couple kissed and cuddled, losing themselves in a sweet embrace as their tongues and breaths entangled. She’d never before felt the degree of passion that emanated from the hands, the lips, the body of the ardent Italian; one who clutched her to him as he kissed and massaged her with the utmost tenderness—at the same time pressing his firm muscled body against hers in a bold, purposeful advance.

“This is insane,” she mused to herself, even as she lost herself in his muscled cocoon and continued to kiss him senseless. “I barely know this man and we can hardly communicate. Ah, but I guess what I’ve always heard about the universal language is all too true….”

“Dio mio!”

Naomi wished fervent that it was her lover that made this pointed exclamation of “My God!” in Italian; somehow, though, she realized that the low, gruff growl emanating from her side did not belong to Angelo.

Tearing herself away from the man whose presence and affections threatened to overwhelm her, Naomi raised her head to behold a group of subdued elderly folks who between them seemed to constitute a tour group; a group led by a distinguished silver haired gentleman who fixed her with a condemning glare.

“Um, mi dispiace,” she muttered, just barely remembering the Italian phrase for “I’m sorry” as her cheeks flushed bright red. “We’ll be going now. Arrivederci, big time!”

The next few days passed in a lovely haze for Naomi, who met her handsome new companion each day following his photo shoots; taking in the sights of Italy by the side of one who she figured had to qualify as its kindest, most beautiful resident.

Taking full advantage of their Eurail passes, the couple journeyed to Florence to behold the spectacle of Michelangelo’s David; and while Naomi cherished the vision of this timeless artwork, the most distinguished male nude statue in world history, she told Angelo that “the stone dude was just ‘meh’ in comparison to him.” This compliment earned her yet another devastating kiss; thus proving to her the old world adage that ‘flattery pays’ (Or was that courtesy? Ah, well….). The next day they witnessed the majestic stateliness of the Dolomites; the thusly called Rose-Tinted Mountains that rose high and mighty in the Italian sky.

That afternoon they visited an Italian landmark that was far smaller in scope; a lovely collection of scale models called Italia in Miniatura. The couple laughed and marveled over the miniaturized versions of classic Italian landmarks; snapping each other’s photos as they posed dramatically before the scaled likenesses of the Coliseum and other Italian monuments.

“No disrespect intended, of course, but throw in a couple of putters and some balls and this would make an awesome miniature golf course,” she told Angelo in broken Italian as he roared with laughter in response. “Of course, this attraction features accurate models of the Coliseum, the Santa Maria del Fiore Basilica in Florence and Brunelleschi’s Dome. Back home at Mighty Minnie’s Miniature Golf, we had windmills, tin can formations and makeshift crocodiles with gaping mouths. You know, whatever works.”

As they toured these sights side by side, the couple often walked with hands and gazes joined; stopping with increasing frequency to kiss, laugh together, and even converse—in their own special blended language that they often called ‘Inglish’ or ‘Entalian.’

One day the couple journeyed together to the nature borne paradise known as Circeo National Park; a veritable fertile wonderland of sparkling lakes, exotic coastal dunes, towering mountains and endless greenspaces.

Settling down in one of these emerald grassed knolls, the couple spread out a red and white checked picnic blanket and emptied the wicker basket they’d brought with them for a romantic noontime picnic.

As they enjoyed scrumptious servings of Italian wedding soup, Chicken Marsala, Italian style bread and love cake, washing it down with hearty sips of sumptuous Amarone wine, the couple basked in the heat of the Italian sun and clasped hands between them.

Angelo surprised his lunch date with an ebullient floral gift: a bouquet of native Italian blooms that included the delicate Florentine Iris and the scarlet hued Tuscany poppies, intermingled with radiant blooms of fresh Italian lavender.

“Bella!” she praised her lover, leaning across their picnic blanket to sear his full, wet lips with the hottest, sweetest of kisses. “Bellissimo!”

Angelo shook his head.

“Nah,” he countered, adding as he moved closer to her on the surface of the blanket, “Naomi es bellissimo—so bellissimo. Voglio fare l’amore con te.”

He said these last words in a sultry heated tone that sent tingles down her spine; also sending her scurrying to her knapsack, fishing for her English/Italian translation guide with feverish fingers.

“Whatever you just said, it sounded beautiful,” she mused, adding as she flipped through the pages of her weathered guide, “Now I just have to figure out the message you were trying to relay.”

Moments later she took in her breath as she discovered the mystery phrase; speaking aloud as she translated, “I want to make love to you.”

Dropping the book to the blanket beneath them, Naomi lifted her head to behold a man who now regarded her with passion narrowed eyes, searing her with a gaze of narrow eyed seduction as he crooked his agile finger in her direction.

“Si,” she breathed, finally surrendering herself to the lure and temptation that had seized her since the moment they met.

Moments later she reclined on her back and stared upward at the gem blue sky; the sun warming her as her ardent young lover set her afire.

Kneeling reverent at her feet, Angelo freed her feet from its confining sandals and rubbed their tired pads; suckling her toes before kissing and licking his way up her sturdy legs as he stole beneath the folds of her soft denim skirt.

Soon finding himself at the juncture of her buxom thighs, Angelo let loose with a lustful growl as he grasped the border of her cotton panties between gleaming white teeth and dragged them downward; soon tossing them in a cloudy mass onto their blanket before returning in full to the source of her pleasure.

Licking open her feminine folds, Angelo moaned low in his throat as he graced his lover with an intimate kiss; fixing his soft, moist lips around her throbbing clit to suckle and lave her.

Leaning his head inward, the Italian lover continued to kiss and lick her famished nub as his attentive hands massaged her full thighs; all the while whispering accented intimacies that served to enhance her arousal.

Shifting his golden head back and forth to intensify the sensation, Angelo sealed his sumptuous mouth around her clit as the strands of his long, silky hair teased her sensitive skin.

Throwing her head back, Naomi bit her lip hard as ecstasy overcame her, waves of pleasurable sensation running wild through her body as Angelo raised his sturdy hands to rub and caress her breasts.

She covered his hands with hers as, with a last resounding lick, he sent her hurdling across the bounds of an incredible, deep felt orgasm.

Naomi cried out with pleasure as currents of electric passion coursed her body from head to toe; both fulfilling and invigorating her as she collapsed fulfilled in the softness of the blanket beneath her.

And still she wanted more, holding her arms open to welcome the lover who now crawled like a cat up the length of her body.

“Naomi, mi bella,” he whispered in her ear, sweeping her up in two strong arms and pulling her closer than close.