Too Cold To Love (13 page)

Jennifer had been right; he was damaged goods.
Low sperm count, three little words that cost him everything, and no doubt
would do again.

Elise's quiet voice stopped his incessant
pacing.

"Come and sit down, Marco. You're wearing
me out just watching you."

When he warily turned to look at her, she smiled
at him through her tears.

"We have Mimi. Why would we need any
more?"

"You say that now, but it will bother you
in time; it's bound to,
pasticcino.
I'm not the man you thought I
was."

Her shoe flew towards him, swiftly followed by
another. Elise marched toward him muttering something under her breath about
arrogant fools, and goddamn idiots, and men only thinking with their dicks,
before she literally threw herself into his arms.

"Let me spell this out for you, Marco
Giovanni. I am
not
your ex-wife. And if you think that this makes you
any less of a man, then you really are the Neanderthal I originally thought you
to be. Now will you
please
shut up, and help me out of this dress. In
case you've forgotten, this is our honeymoon, and I find myself in need of my
husband."

Chapter Fourteen

Marco woke up to the insistent buzzing of his
phone, his senses full of Elise. He could still taste her unique essence on his
tongue and all over his body. Her smell surrounded him. He breathed in deeply,
her deliciously sticky, sweet self trustingly entwined with him.

A slow smile spread across his features, when
his gaze fell on the empty tin of pineapple rings at the bottom of the bed,
next to what was left of her lacy chemise. She'd surprised the hell out of him
last night, that's for sure, her passionate nature making him lose control
completely. He winced in the broad light of day, recalling how he'd ripped that
sinful dress straight of her. Her anger had stoked his own fury at the hand
fate had dealt him. Still far too high on adrenaline he'd been unable to temper
his body's response to her. He'd shown the finesse of an ox in fact, taking her
hard and fast against the wall, slamming into her repeatedly, hell-bent on
seeking his own release.

His morning erection grew harder remembering how
she'd simply locked her ankles behind his hips, taking him deeper and deeper.
Her feral moans in his ears had spurred him on, her internal muscles clenching
around him until he finally with one last vicious thrust had spilled inside
her. It had been some time before his breathing slowed down enough to be aware
of her wriggling against him. Still intimately joined he'd moved them to the
comfort of the bed before withdrawing.

He'd spread her wide at her moaned protest, and
with one long lick against her clit those moans had turned to sighs. He'd
brought her over the edge again and again and again, teasing, nipping,
suckling, and drinking in the very essence of her, until the pressure in his
cock became unbearable. He'd hooked her legs over his shoulders and took her in
another fast ride that left her screaming his name and had gone one hell of a
long way to soothing his wounded pride.

He must have dozed off, because the next thing
he remembered was her kneeling on top of him, wearing nothing but that lacy,
see-through chemise. His heart had all but stopped, when he realised that the
knickers she was wearing were crotch less.

"Have mercy, woman, what are you trying to
do to me?" He'd groaned the words through clenched teeth, when she slowly,
deliberately, moved her wet, swollen folds over his burgeoning erection.

"Me, nothing. just getting my own
back." She drawled the words, the most seductive smile ever on her full
lips, and it had taken all of his control to not shoot his load there and then.
She'd produced that tin of pineapples from behind her back.

He'd watched her in helpless fascination when
she ever so slowly pulled the ring pull, her face a picture of blushing confusion.

"And what do you intend to do with those,
pasticcino
."

If possible she'd blushed even more, her teeth
sucking her bottom lip in.

"
We-ell,"
was her breathy
reply, "Mamma G did draw me a diagram. This was supposed to be for our
wedding night, but as you had me all tied up... this is pay back."

He'd forced himself to watch without intervening
when she'd pulled out one of the rings and swirled it around her fingers. She'd
nibbled along its edges, her little pink tongue, darting in and out of her
mouth, and he'd bunched his fists in the bedcovers to stop himself from
reaching out to her. She'd used that same finger and ran it along her
glistening pussy and then offered it to him to eat. Her musk exploded on his
tongue, and she giggled at his groan.

His cock had been so hard by this point it was
straining to seek entrance to her incredibly wet pussy hole, but the little
minx had laughed and moved herself out of his reach. She'd shaken her head at
him instead and then had made a big show of studying his quivering cock. She'd
glided a pineapple ring slowly along his long length.
 
His hips had bucked off the bed, and he'd
grabbed the head-board.

"Are you trying to fucking kill me,
pasticcino?"

 
She'd
simply smiled and ordered him to keep his hands away. He watched in awed
fascination as she broke the ring apart to slide it along his cock, and he
gritted his teeth against the incredibly sensual feeling of that soft, slippery
fruit sliding along his hot length. Again and again she'd repeated the process,
packing the fruit around his cock. All conscious thought had left him, when
with a slow smile in his direction; she'd started nibbling those rings off his
cock one by one. Her sharp little teeth had nipped at his balls, her tongue
swirling around his cock, teasing the slit leaking with pre-cum, until he'd
panted and begged her not to stop. She'd taken him to the edge time and time
again, before laughingly withdrawing until he thought he would burst.

When she'd licked and nibbled the last of the
fruit off him, she'd finally taken as much of him into her mouth as she could.
She'd suckled, teased, hummed, and swallowed around his cock, alternating
between strong sucks and the lightest of touches, until he couldn't hold
himself back anymore. His hips rising, he'd pushed himself deeper into her hot,
moist mouth, and with a guttural shout his orgasm had gripped him with a force
so intense he hadn't known where he ended and she started. Her startled eyes
had connected with his as he'd almost choked her with his deep thrusting, yet
she'd had taken all of him, every last drop, before sitting up and giving him
the sexiest smile ever. But it was the uncertain look in her almost black eyes,
full of her own desire that had been his undoing.

If he'd had any doubts at all whether she saw
him as man enough, what she'd just done to him and that look in her eyes, made
him forget those doubts. He'd flipped her over, with a growled, "My turn,
lady. You'd better brace yourself!" Her whimpered responses had him hard
again in record time.

He'd put the remaining pineapple rings to good
use. He'd placed one each on her areolas and nibbled the sticky fruit off her
nipples.
 
His tongue brought her rosy
peaks to their full attention. She'd moaned and writhed under him, before he
took pity on her and worked his way down her body slowly. Licking his way down
her body, he'd saved the last pineapple for her clit. He'd driven them both
crazy, by nibbling and teasing her bud, as he licked her slit to clit. The
pineapple juices mixed with her own essence, and he'd fucked her mercilessly
with his tongue, drunk on the smell and taste of her. Her pussy walls quivered
under the onslaught of his eager mouth, trying to draw him deeper, telling him
how close she was. When he bit down gently on her extended clit she clamped
down, and he lapped up the renewed gush of her essence until she came under his
tongue. Only then had he allowed himself to bury his cock so deep within her,
he could have sworn he saw stars, as she had risen up to meet him thrust for
thrust, until they'd come together. Exhaustion claiming them both, they'd
drifted off into sleep with him still buried deep in her velvet heat.

He smiled in the light of day and licked her
shoulder. The taste of pineapple under his tongue, made him wish like hell he could
wake her up by making slow, deliberate love to her, but his phone buzzed again.
With a muttered curse he reached across her and frowned at the display.

Three missed phone calls from Antoine and five
from his solicitor. The proverbial had hit the fan, not that he hadn't expected
it. The black and blue knuckles on his right hand were a vivid reminder as to
how much shit he was in.

She'd been worth it, though. Lust warred with
tender feelings when she stirred next to him. One hand crept up his chest until
it settled over his heart. He stared at her for the longest time, his heart
beating a strange, erratic rhythm, as he struggled with intense feelings, of
what exactly? It wasn't love; that didn't exist. What he felt looking at her
was just a mixture of a night of the most incredible sex he'd ever had, coupled
with sleep deprivation, and the adrenaline still coursing through his system.
It was bound to make a man a little sappy in the morning.

He awkwardly climbed out of the bed and cursed
his erection. A cold shower ought to help chase away the ridiculous notions
floating around his head. He didn't have time for sentimentality. He had to get
his head on straight for the round of meetings that awaited him. His whole
expansion plan could be in jeopardy. So why the fuck was he not more bothered
about his business? Why was the only thing on his mind how much he wanted to
climb back into bed with his wife?

Christ, his wife. The simple truth hit him with
such force his knees buckled under the freezing cold jet of water. That
incredibly fast learning, sexy as hell woman, sleeping in his bed was his wife.
They had a lifetime of exploring each other. No way was he ever letting her
wriggle out of this marriage. She was his and his alone, and once he'd sorted
out this crazy mess, they would have the honeymoon she deserved.

His step was light when he dressed quickly and
quietly, mindful to not wake her. He was going to spoil her rotten for the rest
of this holiday. There was so much he wanted to show her, so much they could
explore together.

Dressed in a light summer suit, his hair still
damp from his shower, he bent over her sleeping form and kissed her lightly. He
smiled at the taste of pineapple under his tongue, mixed with her unique
sweetness. Fuck it, he would never be able to look at pineapples again without
suffering an instant hard-on.

He didn't dare examine why he took one of the
roses from the bouquet on the table and placed it on the pillow next to her,
with a scribbled note.

Gotta sort some business,
 
pasticcino. I'll be as quick as I can be, but
this may take some time. I'm told the spa here is pretty good, so treat
yourself, cara mia. xx

Chapter Fifteen

Marco smiled at Elise, jumping around in
excitement like an over eager puppy, as he adjusted his bowtie.

She looked as though all her Christmases had
come at once.

"We are going where? Really?"

"
La Scala, pasticcino
, I've got a
box."

Elise screeched and hugged herself, before she
threw her arms around him. Hey, he could get used to this.

"Oh, Marco, I always wanted to go to the
opera, but are you sure this dress is ok? I mean, won't they all be terribly
well dressed and la-di-da?"

God
, she was
going to be the death of him. She looked stunning in a classy little black
dress, that left her back exposed and clung to her curves. The skirt ended just
above the knee, her hair arranged in a messy up do. Her excitement had added
some color to her usually pale complexion, and her beautiful eyes were deep
pools of molten chocolate, pulling him right in. In fact if he stood here
looking at her for much longer, they wouldn't make it out of the room, never
mind to the opera.

He smiled to himself, drawing her into his
frame. The excitement radiated off her in waves. He turned her around so that
she was standing with her back to him, and their eyes met in the mirror.

"You look ravishing,
caramia.
Now
stop worrying, and let's get out of here before I change my mind and remember
how much I would rather have you in my bed again."

Elise blushed, but stuck her tongue out at him in
the mirror. She stepped out of his arms and dragged him to the door.

"Oh no you don't, Mister. You promised me
the opera, and that's where we're going."

Marco allowed himself to be dragged along,
admiring the view of her ass hugged tightly by the clinging fabric, and he once
again marveled at the change in Elise. Ever since he had Agnes burn those
ridiculous clothes, her dress sense had been impeccable. She'd taken full
advantage of that day in
Reims
, when he had to
sort his business, to go on a shopping spree. Every new item of clothing that
she had bought had surprised him in a good way. She had refused to wear any of
the stuff that Mamma G had packed for her, most of it not fit to be seen out of
the bedroom, it had to be said, which had been fine by him. They had spent most
of their time so far behind closed doors, after all.