by Renee Rose
She nodded quickly. "Capiche."
He gave her several more hard swats. You know what's particularly delightful about this position?"
"N-no," she quavered.
"It highlights this little flower so nicely," he said, leaning over and planting a kiss on her sex.
"Oooh." Her breath came out shakily.
"Do you like that?" His voice turned low and gravely.
"Yessss."
"Good, bambina. He used his tongue to tantalize her, licking up and down the entrance to her sex, then penetrating her opening with it. He swirled it around her little nubbin of pleasure, sucking it into his mouth, flicking it until she writhed and begged for release.
"Come for me, sweet little wife."
She bucked and her muscles clenched, spasming as ripples of pleasure rolled through her while he continued to torture her with his tongue. Her legs turned boneless, and she was nearly incoherent by the time he released her.
Lowering her legs, he leaned over and kissed her. "I love you, tesoro mio."
She sighed blissfully and stroked his cheek. "I love you, too."
* * *
Someone was getting spanked. She tried to focus, confused. Tomi wouldn't spank Lucia. She blinked several times. The man was kissing her sister. "Marco?" she croaked.
He looked over at her and grinned. "Celia, bambina, how do you feel?"
She tried to lift her head and groaned. It throbbed. Nausea made her clamp her lips closed while she stopped to breathe. "Not so good."
"I'm sorry that happened to you, bambina."
She smiled weakly and looked around gingerly. "Where's Tomi?"
As if on cue, a light tap sounded on the door, and when Marco called, "Enter," Tomi came in.
She remembered he had found her, after the accident – how distraught he'd seemed over her – that he'd held her and rocked her like a baby. "Tomi?"
"I'm right here, dulcezza." He walked around to the side of the bed and picked up her hand.
She smiled at him weakly.
With his other hand, he stroked her hair away from her face. "I'm going to stay right here until you feel better. And then I'm going to take you to the magistrate and make you my wife," he said. "That is, if you will grant it, my lord." He turned to Marco and gave a small bow.
Marco smiled. "I will grant it."
"Thank you."
She looked up at him, dazed. What had changed? With an effort at humor, she turned to Marco, "Didn't you say I would have a choice in the matter?"
Marco shrugged. "In this case, you do not. You may consider it your punishment, if you like." He flashed a wicked grin.
She smiled back weakly and looked up at Tomi.
He gazed at her with the warmth of love in his eyes.
She didn't know why he was ready to accept her as his wife now, but there was no denying the happiness swelling in her heart.
"You know," Marco said thoughtfully, "although I didn't see him myself, I heard Don Edoardo is in Florence right now."
Tomi looked at him, and the men reached some sort of silent accord. "Perhaps we should marry in Florence, then, Celia."
The thought of seeing her father again was disturbing, but part of her wanted very much for him to see she had made a successful marriage, despite her ruined status, especially considering her husband was Tomi, her father's former right-hand man. "As you wish."
"Ah!" Marco chortled. "I knew you would make a good wife if I could just find a man willing to take charge of you!"
"Was that the real reason you brought Tomi to Parma, Marco?"
He smiled at her. "No, but I had my hopes."
"So did I." Tomi kissed her hand.
"Me, too," she admitted weakly, with a smile.
"Let's give them some time alone, shall we, Lucia?" Marco suggested with a wink. When the door shut behind them, Tomi kicked off his boots and crawled into the bed next to her, wrapping his arms around her.
"Tomi," she murmured. "What changed? Why do you want me now?"
"I always wanted you, Celia. Always. I just..." He shook his head as if clearing it. "I was jealous of you and the count. I mistook your ire with me as...I don't know. I thought you loved him and not me."
"I've never loved him," she stared him in the eyes to reassure him. "I mean, not that way. Nor does he love me in that way. We are just...fond of each other. I don't know why I quarreled with you so much. Can you forgive me?" For some reason, the pain in her head made it easier to speak openly with him. Without any extra energy to spare, she could simply speak her thoughts as they came.
He kissed her on the temple. "There's nothing to forgive. May I ask you a question? About the count?"
"I'm not sure," she said, smiling faintly. "I rather like you not being angry with me."
Tomi rolled on top of her, resting his weight on his forearms. He nipped her ear with his teeth and then looked into her face fondly. "You're mine now. You will never belong to the count again. I promise you I will not judge or get angry about anything in your past."
"Then ask me anything."
"There's something that doesn't make sense to me. You said you were more afraid of my punishment than you were of the count's, and yet, you are far more submissive with him. Why is that?"
She blinked at him and considered. "Well," she said slowly. "I can see how it seems like I'm more afraid of him, but I think it's the opposite – because I feel safer with him, it is easier to submit to his authority."
Tomi's face clouded. "And why do you feel safer with him?"
She touched his face and hesitated.
"I'm not angry," he whispered. "I'm not going to get angry. I just want to understand."
"It's just that I know him better, so I feel secure. I trust him. I know he cares about me and wants what's best for me. He defended me against the Duke of Tuscany and Papa. He killed the man who raped me." She referred to the carriage driver who had beaten and raped her as payment for bringing her to Parma after she'd been thrown out of her father's villa.
Tomi's face had a set to it she didn't like.
She touched his cheek again, as if to stroke it away. "Your intentions for me were never clear. I had to keep my guard up so I wouldn't be hurt."
His face softened into regret. "I'm sorry, dulcezza. Let them be absolutely clear now. I am your man. I will be the one defending you now, and you are safe with me."
Warmth cascaded into her chest, and her eyes filled with tears.
"I love you, Celia," he said firmly.
"I love you, too, Tomi."
Chapter Six
"Are you sure you want to marry a woman wearing the same ripped up dress she's been wearing since she left Parma?" Celia demanded with a smile. After five days recuperating at the inn and waiting for their carriage to be repaired, the two couples had finally set off for Florence.
It was true that Celia's dress looked much worse for wear, despite the fact that Lucia had sent it out to be washed and repaired, leaving Celia, to his mingled delight and frustration, in nothing but her chemise for an entire day. The count and countess were able to obtain a separate room at the inn, and he'd had the pleasure of caring for Celia, though she'd been in too much pain for him to push anything physical, and then he decided they should wait for their legal marriage in Florence to make it special.
Watching her now, he thought she was the most beautiful creature he had ever laid eyes on. Her wine-colored gown looked magnificent on her, despite her protests, and her hair was swept up away from her face with a simple silver hairpiece adorning it. There was still a yellowish bruise on her forehead, but she had not thrown up for several days, and the dark centers of her eyes seemed to be back to the same size.
"I would marry you if you wore a potato sack," he said, squeezing her hand. "Are you sure you want to marry me in the same dirty clothes I've been wearing since Parma?"
She laughed. "Men's clothing does not matter nearly so much." She squeezed his hand back. "So what is your plan for seeing Papa
when we get there?"
He leaned back in the carriage and met the count's eye. "I was thinking of sending a message inviting him to the wedding."
The count nodded his approval.
Celia pursed her lips. "Do you think he will come?"
He shrugged. "That, I cannot guess at. He loved us both once, that is all I know."
"Will you invite our Aunt Nicola as well?"
"Of course. Are you on...er…good terms with her?"
The pain that flashed on her face made him want to draw her into his arms to kiss it away. "I'm not certain. I have been afraid to communicate with her since Papa threw me out."
"Well, we will invite her and see what happens. Let's not be disappointed either way, all right?"
She nodded bravely, and he squeezed her hand.
When they arrived in Florence, the count secured rooms while Tomi obtained parchment and ink to print the invitations. He set the wedding time for noon the following day before the magistrate, followed by dinner at their apartments.
When he entered their chamber, he stopped short. Celia stood naked, using a linen cloth to sponge her body with water. Her long red waves dripped down the sensuous curve of her back. She turned and looked at him over her shoulder, her dimpled smile lighting her face.
Forget about waiting for the wedding.
He made a low, growling sort of noise in the back of his throat as he stripped off his own clothes, advancing on her at the same time.
She met him halfway, helping him out of his clothes, moving so close to him the tips of her apple-sized breasts brushed against his skin.
He stopped himself then, wanting to slow down and enjoy their time together in a leisurely fashion. Except he was rock hard and desperately hungry for her. He stroked her body with his hands, tantalized by the pale alabaster of her skin, the soft give of it under his rough hands. He kissed her neck, her throat, her breasts. He drew a nipple into his mouth and sucked as his hands roamed down her back and over the enticing curves of her bottom.
She pulled away and smiled wickedly. "I thought we were waiting until after we get married?" she said with mock innocence, fluttering her eyelashes. He backed her quickly to the bed, where she fell back, giggling. He climbed onto the mattress with her and then rolled her over to her belly and spanked her perfect bottom several times.
"The first rule you must learn as my wife…" he said, spanking her as he spoke, "...is never to tease your husband when sex is involved."
Celia put her hands behind her to protect her bottom, giggling. "Yes, sir." Laughter bubbled in her voice. It was the sweetest sound he had heard in a very long time.
He rolled her back over and kissed her passionately.
She reached down and gripped the base of his shaft, moving her hand up and down it so he groaned with need. He did not mind, in the least, having an experienced wife. Virgins had never really been his thing, anyway. He lowered himself down and pushed her knees up, licking into her hot core.
She convulsed on the bed, squirming in delight. "Oh, Tomi!"
Hearing his name on her lips nearly made him climax. He used his tongue until she was pleading with him, and then he raised himself over her and slid the head of his sex over her slick entrance, back and forth, just enjoying the way the silky, swollen lips opened for him. She was digging her nails into his shoulders, moaning with need before he entered her. She was as tight as she'd been the last time, and she drew in her breath sharply when he entered her, so he stopped to give her a chance to relax and adjust.
With a thrust of impatience, she undulated her hips under his.
He wrapped one arm around her back and rocked their hips together, finding that ancient, original dance – that primal rhythm all bodies know.
She climaxed first and then watched him with a wide smile as he drove to his pleasure, too. He lowered himself, panting, beside her and kissed her neck.
"Yes," he said softly. "I think you will make a good wife."
* * *
She twisted a strand of hair in her fingers, worrying it with a frenetic energy. She was nervous. Not about getting married, but about whether her father and aunt would show up. She didn't know which she feared more – having to face her father, or his conspicuous absence.
Tomi put an arm around her waist and drew her closer, as if he sensed her distress.
She kept her eye on the entrance, periodically glancing back as they waited to see the magistrate. At last, it was their turn. She took one last glance around them and went before the magistrate with Tomi, disappointment stabbing her chest. The ceremony itself was short, and she hardly noticed it, being so engrossed in her contemplation of her father's continued resolve to never see her again.
Tomi kissed her when the magistrate said she was his, and he brought his face to her cheek, stroking it. "It's all right, Celia," he whispered. Her eyes filled with tears of gratitude – knowing he was so in tune with her thoughts and emotions.
She smiled bravely for him and tried to shake off her anxieties. "Thank you."
Back at the apartments, the count had ordered a fine meal prepared, and they toasted with a bottle of the best Dante wine. "To Tomi, who finally took charge of his woman." The count lifted his glass.
"Marco!" Lucia protested, but Celia didn't mind. It was true – Tomi had finally taken charge of her. And it felt wonderful. She was very happy to be his wife.
"Indeed," a familiar voice boomed from the doorway. A servant had ushered her father and her aunt in. "I am grateful she has found a man who can handle her."
She stood, rooted to the spot, her mouth open in shock.
Tomi, however, was as graceful as could be. "Don Edoardo!" He hurried to greet her father, pulling her along by the hand. Tomi opened his arms, and for a moment, she was not sure what her father would do, but then he opened his wide as well, and the two men embraced.
She held her breath when they separated, and her father turned to her. There was a moment of awkwardness, but then he opened his arms wide again, and she threw herself into them, weeping.
The rest of the afternoon passed as a blur to her. Tomi was introduced to her aunt, and Marco and Lucia greeted her as well. They all sat down to eat together. She was still so overcome by emotion that she happily cried throughout the entire meal, with Tomi periodically squeezing her hand or winking at her for reassurance.
"Well, my lord, you know I've come to take him back."
"I was afraid of that, Don Edoardo," Marco replied.
"Perhaps there's a way we can make it work for everyone," her father said. "I'm an old man now. That became abundantly clear to me after Tomi left. I do not wish to work the winery anymore. It is my desire to divide the vineyards and winery equally between my two daughters, so it can continue to provide for my grandchildren."
Tomi turned to look at her. His eyes were shining with excitement and gratitude. He turned back to her father. "Thank you, Don Edoardo. You cannot understand how much that means to us."
Marco concurred.
Her father nodded his head once in acknowledgment. He waved a hand at Marco and Tomi. "I will leave it to you men to decide how to divide things."
The rest of the evening was spent in tentative harmony, each party careful with the other's feelings. It was wonderful to see her aunt again, who told her she had been worried sick about her ever since she'd heard her father cast her out.
At last, it was time to part. The men agreed they would discuss the dividing of the Dante holdings and present Don Edoardo with a plan. They all embraced again, satisfied, and said goodnight.
Tomi looked over at her with a smile. "Come, dulcezza, I want you in my bed."
"You will have me in your bed every night for the rest of your life, husband." She sashayed toward him.
He gathered her into his arms and kissed her. "That may not be enough." He bent down and picked her up, carrying her, giggling, to the bedchamber where he kept her up until dawn with his pleasures. They spent most of the next day in bed toge
ther, too, causing a great deal of good-natured teasing from Marco and Lucia.
In the evening, the four of them sat down together to discuss their future and the division of her father's property. They discussed the idea of keeping the holdings unified and working together for shared profits. The women were enthusiastic about this solution, happy at the idea of still working together and hopefully seeing each other as often as possible. The plan was for Celia and Tomi to move back to her father's villa to handle things from there, but Marco and Lucia would visit often and contribute resources toward a combined harvest.
Tomi took a quill and parchment and started an itemized list of her father's holdings as they knew them. She looked over his shoulder, despite the fact that she couldn't read, and chimed in relentlessly.
"All right, so for the different vineyards, we have the upper, the lower and the DeGrazia piece..." he said, writing them down on the parchment."And then we have the –
"Don't forget the Sanguardia!"
"For the last time, would you stop interrupting?" Tomi laid the quill down with an exasperated sigh. "Celia, come with me to our chamber."
Marco chuckled as she shot Lucia a look of startled fear. Her belly fluttered as she followed her husband to their room. Once inside, Tomi began to roll up his sleeves. "Take off your clothes," he said casually, as if he were asking her to pass the lamb.
"Tomi?" she squeaked. "I'm sorry I interrupted you again."
"So am I, bambina. Now take off your clothes."
"I-I don't think it's necessary to punish me. It's the day after our wedding, after all," she wheedled.
"It's not up to you, Celia. Now, I was planning on spanking you with my hand, but if you're not undressed by the time I count to ten, I'm going to use my belt, instead." He began to count slowly.
She made an involuntary sound, somewhere between a gasp and a squeak and stripped off her dress as quickly as she could.
