Sharing Nicely (12 page)

“Top tip.” I nodded. “And very impressive.”

“Yes,” he whispered, his lips set close to my ear so the man behind couldn’t hear. “I can ask you to fuck me in several different languages.”

My cheeks flushed with heat and I hoped the gondolier was too busy manoeuvring us from the dock to have overheard.

“Anyway, back to the topic at hand.” He leant back and I composed myself, though the heat of passion still flowed in my veins. “The other legend of the Bridge of Sighs is so much lovelier and it’s why this good man is directing us towards it now.”

The boat bobbed gently in the water, the long prow splitting it in front of us, and the muscle and pole of the gondolier pushed us forward at a sedate pace. The golden orb of the sun sank over the city and daubed the white walls with oranges and warm yellows. The Bridge of Sighs before us seemed to shine in the light, the corridor of buildings leading us towards the halo that hung so far above the blue canal.

“Local legend has it”—Greg turned towards me as we approached the bridge—“that if a couple kiss in a gondola under the Bridge of Sighs at sunset then their love will last forever.”

I beamed at him, the soft light of sunset bathed us and, as the shadow of the famous bridge covered us, his lips pressed against mine. It felt like magic, the golden sun like fire around us, the shadow of the bridge holding us, the sound of the water and the peace of that moment. I wanted the legend to be true. I’d not even thought about forever with Greg but when he kissed me it became a dream I wanted to achieve.

He pulled back, stroking his hand gently down my arm and smiling, a little hesitantly, a tad unsure. I reached out a hand and cupped his face, wanting to reassure him to make him feel better.

“That’s you and me bound forever then,” I said with a lighthearted giggle. “I hope you’re ready for it.”

He nodded and turned his head to kiss the inside of my hand.

“I think I can work with that,” he murmured, “you in bondage to me forever.”

Trust him to twist the romance into something kinky and sexual. Or maybe that was just me, maybe it was what I hoped he meant. I wanted him to tie me down and use me—but maybe not right there, under the nose of a poor working man and half of Venice who’d come out to see the Bridge of Sighs at the most romantic time of the day.

It was later that night that he showed me the meaning of his kinky words. We’d enjoyed a meal in our room. Greg was hoping to keep a low profile for as long as possible.

“We were just out on the canal below the Bridge of Sighs where a lot of people saw us, Greg, I’m not sure that’s keeping a low profile.”

“No,” he replied, “you can’t let the possibility of discovery get in the way of good romance. And if a tourist snapped us? Well, it will take time for them to contact the media and get those photos circulated. It’s not like I kissed you in front of a horde of paparazzi.”

“I’ll give you that,” I conceded, hoping my thoughtless answer wouldn’t leave him in a bad mood all evening.

“And you’ll give me more.” He didn’t smile. His face was stony lined and I really didn’t know what he would do next. “Go and stand at the bottom of the stairs.”

I was about to argue, I must admit. I wasn’t going to be commanded about like a naughty child. Greg leaned in and whispered in my ear.

“I want to have some fun. Play along, please. If you want to stop just shout ‘Diamonds’, okay?”

I nodded tersely and went to stand just before the first stair that led up to the mezzanine floor. I looked around, unsure of what to do. I felt a little silly stood there, waiting for something to happen.

“I’ve been looking at this staircase since we arrived, imagining you bent over, holding onto the spindles and waiting for a damn good spanking. Hold onto the rails and bend over, my dream’s about to come true.”

I gulped and licked my lips. The image now danced in my mind too. I turned round, swung around the last post and readied myself by bending and gripping two rails in front of me.

“Oh yeah, that’s it,” he moaned. I glanced to the left and saw him walking towards me, his jaw set determinedly. My knees buckled beneath me. I don’t know what the medical diagnosis for it would have been but I guessed it was because all my blood had drained down to the lower parts of my body and left my brain high and dry.

I gripped the cold, hard beams all the tighter and was grateful to feel his hands on my hips to help hold me up. I was even more grateful to feel him hitch up my skirt and fold it over my back until my rump was revealed, the light lace of my knickers the only thing that protected my modesty.

A rumble of appreciation rolled from his lips and vibrated through his body until I felt it transfer from his hands into me. I melted under his touch. Even when he lifted a hand and let it drop hard onto my arse I tightened up but I didn’t want him to stop. I wanted the delicious pain to continue. He read my mind as his slaps rained down rhythmically. Each impact shook me, pushed arousal through my body and as my buttocks stung, ecstasy blossomed. My nipples peaked and rubbed painfully against my bra, my clit plumped, my pussy moistened until the strip of lace covering me was soaked, the material clung to my lips.

“So pretty and pink, but this is in the way,” Greg peeled down my knickers, let them drop to the floor in a flutter of freedom. “Oh, much better.”

He stroked my buttocks, the sting revived with his touch. I was torn. I wanted more punishment but I also wanted release.

He gripped my hips tightly and pressed his crotch against me, his trouser-covered cock nestling between my buttocks.

I rubbed back against him, desperate for more of him. I bent my legs and straightened them again as I communicated my lust to Greg, desperate for him to give me more but with desire so great words wouldn’t come.

He stepped back and I heard the clunk of his belt being unfastened and the hiss of the dropped zip. The next time I felt his pressure on me it was from his naked cock probing between my buttocks. He bent his legs and manoeuvred around me, using a hand to press his erection into my wet slit and the other to grip my hip. Once he filled me he held onto me with both hands and thrust hard.

I braced myself, tried to hold it together when pain and pleasure at each impact mixed and coalesced, taking my breath away. He slammed hard and fast and he came inside me after just a few moments. The deep-seated grunt he made flooded me with second-hand satisfaction. I didn’t have time to think—he pulled out, dragged me up and turned me around in his arms. He pressed my back against the banisters. He sought out my slit with probing fingers and slid up and down to find my clit. We kissed, mouths mashed together between gasps and pants. I was pure, writhing need and when I came, I screamed against his lips and the pleasure ripped from me, intense and immense.

He held me up, breath tickling my cheek.

“That was better than I imagined,” Greg whispered. “You’re amazing, Kerry.”

“So are you,” I sighed. “Now I think I need to lie down, my knees have forgotten what they’re meant to be doing.”

We giggled up the stairs and into the luxurious bed, throwing our remaining clothes off as we went. I snuggled into his shoulder and was just nodding off when I heard the strains of a song, a ringtone. I thought I was dreaming, but Greg cursed and leapt from the bed. He hurtled downstairs and a moment later he snapped out a greeting.

I didn’t get the content of the rest of the conversation. Just that Greg was pissed off at being contacted but that the issue at hand was one of major importance. A few moments later he was back at my side.

“I’m sorry, I’m going to have to go and do some work. I’ll take the laptop down into one of the quieter communal areas so I don’t disturb you. I’ve got more employees to yell at before the night is through.”

“Oh, okay,” I mumbled, disappointed to not have him in bed with me but too tired to argue.

“I’ll miss you,” he sighed and bent to kiss me.

“I’ll miss you too, sweetheart. Don’t work too hard.”

He picked up his clothes and walked back down the stairs at a much more sedate pace. I heard him sigh once more then the door closed behind him. I wondered if our relationship would always be just the bits between our jobs.

It struck me as weird that I was bothered by that idea. I was a career girl myself and would put my job before almost everything else. I was surprised to realise that I wouldn’t put work in front of him. I’d drop anything at a moment’s notice. I could even imagine selling Diamonds to be with him full-time. I’d never even contemplated that in theory before.

Would Greg do the same for me? Big questions plagued me and prevented me from falling into the satisfied sleep I’d been heading for. I tossed and turned for a while until the softness of the bed and the lateness of the hour finally won over and I slept. My mind, however, was busy with upsetting dreams.

Chapter Eight

“I know it’s late, Stephano, but all this happened at the last minute. Surely you’ve got something for us.”

Greg had climbed into bed with me sometime in the early hours. I had woken much earlier than him, gone for a walk and enjoyed breakfast at a sweet little corner café. I’d wished Greg could have been with me but I understood he needed to sleep, so I’d left him to it. He had still been asleep when I’d got back at lunchtime but he’d woken not long after and whisked me off to a very exclusive designer shop. I’d been a bit disappointed that we hadn’t indulged in anything intimate before we’d left.

“I do not like having to dress you and your beautiful partner with what I have lying about. You need shaping and moulding. I mean, look at her hips. Oh, the joy I could get from draping them properly with cloth.” Stephano ran me over with his professional gaze. It heated my blood. He was a good-looking fellow, hard lines and with just a little stubble on his chin. The impeccably cut suit emphasised his length and his litheness. If it was one of his own it was a great advertisement for his skills.

“I know, I know, but come on, you must have
something
.” Greg didn’t quite flutter his lashes but he wasn’t far off—it was arousing to watch him in action. No wonder he was so successful
—
Greg wasn’t going to back down.

“Come, come, we will see.” Stephano walked off and we trailed behind. Greg grabbed my hand and squeezed it.

“Okay, so with your dark hair and your light skin,
signora
, I believe this rich blue will complement you most pleasantly.” Stephano indicated a dress on a mannequin in front of him. It was stunning. The colour reminded me of peacocks. The material was obviously rich
—
silk, I suspected.

“Wow,” I gasped, unable to vocalise anything else.

“I think she likes it,” Greg beamed.

“
Bellissimo.”
Stephano clapped his hands together and a young lady appeared from somewhere in the back. “Juliet, remove this gown from display and prepare it to be tried on.” She went about her task efficiently and Stephano moved over to a rack of jackets.

“We have this in the same colour set. It is the same period, eighteenth century, and I think it will suit you well,
Signore
Stamford.”

The jacket was stunning, long and shaped to the waist in a similar shimmering blue fabric with gold brocade and golden buttons along its length. “So smart,” I squealed and Greg nodded.

Stephano beamed proudly. “I believe we have some breeches that will match well enough and we have shirts. I think we may just be able to pull this off.”

Stephano pulled Greg off into a changing room on one side of the huge room and Juliet ushered me into one on the opposite side. I felt a little uncomfortable because she stayed with me while I took off my clothes. The room was the size of three or four of the small booths you get in department stores, so at least it did not feel quite so intimate, but I was not used to stripping off layers in front of a stranger. Juliet, however, did her best to put me at ease.

I stood before her in my lingerie and she smiled encouragingly. I felt silly. I wanted to cover my stomach and thighs, I felt so big in comparison to her. She was slim and trim. I imagined what she was thinking of me and none of it was pleasant.

“So we shall go into the dress, yes?” She smiled and held the back of the huge confection of expensive material open for me to step into.

“Okay.” I stepped forward and into the layers and Juliet arranged them around me.

“I wish I had your figure,” she sighed and strapped me in. “I have no hips.”

“You can have some of mine if you like,” I responded with a surprised smile, “but you are gorgeous just as you are.”

“
Grazie,
you are too kind,
signora
.”

“Well, it’s true,” I continued. “You’ve got to embrace what you’ve been given.” As the words fell from my lips I realised that I should take my own advice.

Juliet blushed and brushed the dress around me. It fitted surprisingly well. I was used to settling for clothing that fitted adequately—I was tall and generously curved, so it was hard to find anything in the shops that catered for my curves and my height. This gown in all its historical glory cupped me gently but firmly. My breasts peeped from the top of the gentle white lace and my hips were nestled in the soft silk and satin of the underskirts. My waist seemed to have magically shrunk. The image of me in the mirror had to be a fairy tale.