Tuscan Heat (5 page)

He was a little out of breath when he pulled away. “You are right. I should go. Once I start with you it is hard to stop.”

I undressed and slid into the water. It was much hotter than my normal preference, but both my fling and the concierge were right. Between the ice and the water’s heat, my ankle wasn’t throbbing anymore. I could hear Marco on the telephone in the bedroom, speaking Italian.
Before I come back, I’m going to take some classes in Italian
. Despite the heat of the bath, I froze. Before I what? This was a once in a lifetime trip. I wasn’t coming back and I didn’t need to learn Italian.

“Bella.”

He stood in the doorway. I smiled and stretched like a cat. “Hello.”

He threw himself to his knees by the tub and reached for me. I pulled back. “Your nice shirt, Marco.”

“To hell with my shirt,” he growled.

I didn’t need to hear more. I propped myself up and threw a dripping arm around his neck. His tongue was even hotter than the water, and I felt the heat inside my body as well as on my skin.

He bent down and lowered me into the tub. “Lie there. And do not argue, for the love of heaven. Say yes. You promised to say yes.”

I bit my lip, trying not to laugh. I nodded. My efforts were rewarded with his faintly feral smile. With his fingertips, he traced my eyebrows, down my nose, across my cheeks and along my jaw.

“Mmm.”

“You like this, Serafina?”

“Yes.”

“What about this?” His fingers moved down and outlined my collarbone, the lines of my shoulders and on to my breasts. First he drew swooping figure eights, followed by shrinking spirals until he was drawing tight, tiny circles over my taut nipples.

“Oh, yes.”

He chuckled. He widened the pattern back out until he found my ribs and stomach. Lower and lower he went until he reached my thighs. I raised my hips to bring my pussy closer to his questing hand, but he pushed me back down. “Oh, no. I am not done.”

His shirtsleeves were soaked to the elbow, and the part where I’d hugged him clung to his muscular chest. His eyes were dark with desire, but he was still smiling. He slipped one finger along the line where my thigh met my mound, and drew a swift line down the inside of my leg.

I whimpered. The sensation echoed across my body. Without thinking, I brought my hands to my aching breasts.

“Yes, Sara. Yes. Touch yourself.”

I didn’t need encouragement. I squeezed my nipples between my fingers. I pressed down hard with the heel of my hand, and reduced the pressure until I was barely grazing the skin. I did that again and again. Marco didn’t stop what he was doing, but whenever I pinched my nipples, his own hands contracted. I closed my eyes, lost in the feeling.

He finally brushed his hand across my pussy, and all the blood in my body slammed to that spot. I cried out.

There was a discreet knock on the outer door. I opened my eyes, startled.

“Ignore it,” he said. He ran his fingers into the curls between my legs, and tugged on them just enough to get my attention.

The knock sounded again, but I tried to react to my lover, not the interruption. Marco was doing his best to help. Both of his hands were in the tub and on my body now, with one of his hands squeezing my breast the way I had. He rose off his knees far enough so that he could kiss me.

The knock turned into a thump.

“Che cazzo è?”
roared Marco in frustration.

A muffled stream of equally enraged Italian ensued. My lover winced. “Serafina, I apologize. This is my fault. I will be right back.”

He dried his hands on a towel and left, closing the bathroom door behind him. I could hear him apologizing to someone. Finally, the outer door closed and the bathroom door reopened. He came in looking like a little boy with a secret, his hands behind his back.

“What was that?”

“I ordered you an ankle brace from the
farmacia,
along with some painkiller. That was the deliveryman at the door. I had meant to wait for him to arrive before I came in to help you dry off, but I could not resist your beautiful body.”

“Again with the flattery.”

“Is it flattery to speak the truth?”

I flapped a hand at him. “Hush, you. Is that the brace behind your back?”

“Behind my back? There is nothing.”

“Then there’s something in your pocket, because there was something in your hand not two seconds ago.”

He just grinned. He dabbled his hand in the water. “This is too cool to help you anymore. Would you like more hot water, or would you like to shower off?”

“Depends on which option will get me some company.”

He moved between my feet like a striking snake and pulled the plug. “The tub is too small for what I am thinking.”

“And what would you be thinking?” I drawled.

He stripped off his shirt. Everyone looks good by moonlight and the glow of a beautiful city, but it takes true gorgeousness to survive bathroom lighting. He had it. I’d already noticed his solid pectoral muscles, with their light dusting of hair. The hair converged in a bit of a happy trail leading to a trim waist and toned stomach. Now I was better able to appreciate his broad shoulders and firm biceps. In the mirror behind him, I saw that his back was smooth and free of hair so that nothing obstructed my view of his shifting muscles.

I licked my lips. He grinned at me. “That is what I like to inspire in a woman.”

“Need help with the belt buckle? I figured out how it works earlier.”

“Greedy, greedy.”

“The water’s nearly gone and I’m cold.”

He got out of the rest of his clothes and came over to the tub. He wasn’t yet completely erect. I frowned a little.

“Is there a problem?”

“I’ve never been with a man who wasn’t circumcised, and this is the first chance I’ve had to look at you when you weren’t as hard as a rock.”

“But the frown. That is not the reaction I usually get, if you know what I mean.”

“Well, I’d been told it looked like a pig in a blanket.”

“A what?”

Apparently his stint in southwest Virginia didn’t expose him to American cocktail munchies. When I explained, he started laughing again. “No, Serafina. There is no blanket.”

I reached out and stroked him lightly, from the dark brown curls at the base of his shaft all the way to the tip. “I guess not.”

His cock shifted under my fingers. He groaned and stepped back a bit. “Wait. I have something in mind.”

“So do I.”

He turned around to mess with a floor to ceiling mirrored cabinet set into the wall. That gave me a view of the most perfect ass in Italy. Again there wasn’t any hair, just toned, smooth muscle. There was hair on his equally toned legs, enough to remind me that he was masculine in every way. I drank in the sight of him, hoping to preserve this memory for cold nights back in the States. I wondered briefly why I thought “States” and not “home.”

He was watching me in the mirror, so I whistled at him. He grinned. I watched him adjust the cabinet door to face the tub. Then he came back to the tub with the teak bath stool in his hands.

“Come, stand for a moment. Lean on me, do not hurt your poor ankle.”

I put my arm around his shoulders while he climbed into the tub and put down the stool. I was a bit chilled, and the feel of his skin started some kind of fire for me. I rubbed against his torso. “I think I’ll just cuddle up to you.”

“
Mio povero tesoro,
I must warm you.” He wrapped his arms around my body and kissed me.

Chest to chest, belly to belly, thigh to thigh, I pressed as much skin against him as I could. I moaned against his tongue, and his cock stirred against me in response. He moved my wet hair to the side and massaged my back. I moved my breasts against his chest in tiny movements, enough to let him feel how stiff my nipples were. He responded by moving his hands down, cupping my ass cheeks and squeezing them in turn.

I broke our kiss in order to move my lips to his throat. I sucked and nibbled from underneath one ear to the other. I left one hand on his shoulder for balance, but my other hand moved to his chest. I loved the feeling of his crisp-soft hair, and the tiny nipple nearly as hard as my own. I ducked my head a little lower and nibbled all over his chest as well as his neck. My reward was seeing goose bumps come across his beautiful golden brown skin.

“Oh no,” I said. “Instead of you warming me, I’ve made you cold.”

“Not really. Part of me is warm.”

The best part of him besides his face was definitely warm. It was almost hot, pressing urgently between my legs. I shifted a bit until my clit was against the shaft, and put my head back in delight. “Mmm. Yes…oh!”

Marco had his mouth on my nipple. He flicked the tip with an expert tongue, stopping only to switch sides. His arm was tight around my waist, holding our hips together. I brought my hands up to his hair, combing through it and winding soft waves around my fingers. I loved his hair. I’d never known a man with hair so soft and thick.

He moved his supporting arm up higher, and his lips abandoned my breasts for my neck. It was his turn to nibble and suck my tender skin. His free hand slipped in between my legs. A single finger found my opening.

“You are wet, Serafina.”

“For you.”

“Wet enough?”

“Yes.”

“Let me see.”

He sat on the stool with his knees spread. His cock stood straight up, and I was dying to lower myself down onto him. Instead he shook his head, pulled me close, and went back to sucking my nipples. He took as much into his mouth as he could, great devouring mouthfuls, and pointed his tongue onto my puckered areolas.

I was panting, and I squirmed against his mouth. I felt him smile, and then both of his thumbs fondled my hot slit, running from opening to clit in short, hard strokes.

“Marco, please. Please, I’m ready.”

“You are?”

“Yes. Damn it, yes. Please.”

“Turn on the water. Make it warm.”

I couldn’t think straight enough to ask questions. I did as he asked. He leaned over the edge of the tub and fumbled with his pants. When I had the temperature right, I turned back to see him putting on a condom.

“Where did that come from?”

“The
farmacia
sells them here, just like in America. Only your Walgreens does not deliver.”

“Europe has its strong points.”

He opened his arms. “Turn around, and turn on the shower.”

The warm water poured down. The little inadequate glass panel that this hotel had instead of a shower curtain didn’t keep the spray in the tub, but Marco’s hands on my hips distracted me from caring.

“Now turn a bit, Serafina. Do you see the mirror?”

“Yes.”

He was sitting at a strange angle. When he pulled me toward his lap, I realized what he had planned.

His strong hands supported my ass while he lowered me onto his hard, thick cock. Inch by inch he filled me. I was slick enough that he could have taken me in one hard thrust, but from the look on his face, he preferred the slow torture.

Finally, my ass was against his thighs, and all of him was inside me. The water drummed against my torso. I closed my eyes and tried to move my hips, but he held me still.

“No. Open your eyes.”

“Is that an order?”

“Yes.”

I obeyed. He’d chosen the perfect angle for both the cabinet door and his position. Our bodies glistened. The pouring water pounded between my breasts and over my belly and down our legs. Droplets clung to my face. I met his eyes in the mirror. His expression was hungry.

“I want you to watch yourself as I take you. Do not take your eyes away from this sight.”

He couldn’t move very much, so he moved me instead. His arms flexed as his powerful hands moved me back and forth and up and down.

Every sensation was heightened by the intensity of his expression. His eyes never left mine. Just as I was ready to explode, he stopped moving me.

I cried out in dismay even as he made his next move. He wrapped one arm around my chest and put his hand firmly on one of my breasts. His other hand went to my throbbing pussy. Every drop of water felt like a kiss against my sensitive skin. He rubbed my clit in furious circles, slipping around and around until I came, bucking against his hand.

He pulled out of me, or pushed me off, and somehow got me back onto his lap, facing him. I was still coming, my body shaking, and he pulled me onto his hard cock with no need for finesse. I rode him then, our bodies in perfect rhythm. I rubbed out every last shudder against his perfect cock, and as soon as I finished, he came.

His fingers gripped my waist, and I could feel his balls quivering against me. Inside I was so sensitive that I could feel the tiny jerks of his cock, spending into the condom. I clenched my inner muscles tight and wrapped my arms around his neck with the same strength. I wanted to hold onto him as long as I could.

The feel of the shower pounding against my back faded into my awareness. He looked up at about the same moment.

“You were magnificent,” he said.

“You get all the credit for that one, Signore Choreographer.”

He laughed. He helped me to my feet and got rid of both the condom and the stool. The actual showering that followed involved a lot of playful splashing and tickling. I had my back thoroughly washed for the first time in years, and I returned the favor.

Afterward, wrapped in the bathrobe, I watched Marco use the hair dryer to get his shirt and slacks ready to put on. I didn’t see his briefs anywhere, and when I raised my eyebrows, he laughed.

“You’re not the only one who doesn’t need to wear underwear,” he said, patting his jacket pocket.

“On a motorcycle? I’d need to wear underwear.”

He laughed. “I do not have far to go.”

I didn’t want to ask him to stay, but I kind of wanted him to want to stay. “Well, if we’re still on for our rescheduled dinner tomorrow, I’ll see you then.”

“Sara, I have a suggestion. You did not have a chance to get your Uffizi tickets for tomorrow, what with your accident and my skilled nursing.”

He made a face at me, and I laughed. “I don’t mind.”