Royally Romanced

by Marie Donovan

  Her tremors grew harder and closer together as he played her with his hands. She was vulnerable but safe, knowing he had ironclad control over himself—and her. “Hurry, Renata,” he crooned. “Hurry to your first climax so I can give you another with my cock.”

  She groaned and succumbed, arching and crying as she came. Her thong was soaking wet and pressing up into her pussy, her breasts throbbing and full.

  She barely had a minute to catch her breath before he was helping her up. “Now it is your turn.”

  He stood and turned to the side. “Look, Renata.” He gestured to the long mirror opposite them.

  They were perfect contrasts, her soft body white with red, red nipples and a red shadow under her thong. He was tanned and muscular, his erection strong and dark.

  She swallowed hard. “What do you want to do, Giorgio?”

  “What you offered me. Your mouth and your body. And we both get to watch.”

  She’d never done that before but her pussy throbbed at the thought. She eased to kneel in front of him.

  “There, Renata. Watch the mirror as I take your mouth. As you wrap your pouty lips around me.” He turned his head so he could see her reflection.

  She did as he asked, her eyes widening as she saw and felt his pulsing cock enter her mouth. She was stretched into the perfect O around him and felt utterly possessed.

  He hissed out a long breath as she automatically applied suction. “Si, si, mia bella.”

  Who was that wanton redhead, dressed in red heels and satin lingerie, on her knees watching herself in a mirror as she hungrily sucked on a man’s cock? It was beyond raunchy and she loved it—because it was Giorgio.

  His gaze met hers in the mirror. “Touch yourself.”

  She raised her eyebrows.

  “I know how insatiable you are, no? You are close to coming already.”

  He was right. She slid her hand inside her thong and strummed her clit. Her moans excited him even more, and he cupped her head as he thrust into her willing, wet mouth.

  Her breath came in short, choppy bursts and she climaxed again, careful not to scrape him. She thought for sure he’d come, too, but he pulled out of her mouth and helped her kneel on the bed, facing the mirror. He quickly moved behind her, even as she was still coming.

  He parted her knees and shoved inside. Her moan turned into a scream of pleasure as his cock stretched her pulsing body. She dropped to her hands and knees and panted, but he pulled her upright.

  “Watch us,” he commanded. “Watch my dick slip in and out of your body.” He covered her bare breasts with his hard, hot hands. “Watch me play with your big, round tits.”

  She did. She watched helplessly as he drove her to the edge of sexual insanity. He thrust quickly, then slowly, pinched her and then stroked her with a featherlight touch.

  “Spread yourself open. I want you to see everything.”

  She whipped her head to the side to meet his hard gaze.

  He stopped moving inside her and stopped touching her tits. “Do it, Renata.” He snapped the back elastic of her thong and tossed the whole garment aside. “Now you can see.”

  She slowly spread her folds wide and gasped. Her clit was round and hard as a pearl, her pussy dark rose with arousal. Most of his penis was hidden inside her, his heavy balls resting against her ass. As she stared, he withdrew from her slowly, until his shaft sat between her folds and his head rested right below her clit.

  He thrust slowly along that groove, his slick tip brushing her clit. Renata clamped her legs around him and shuddered.

  Giorgio cupped her breasts again, moving leisurely without entering her. The purple head of his cock peeped coyly between her legs with every thrust.

  “Who do you belong to, Renata?” he commanded, thumbing her nipples. “Tell me. Who does your body belong to?”

  “You, Giorgio,” she sobbed. “Only you.”

  “Mine.” He nipped her earlobe. “All mine.” Those were the magic words because he slid into her, his tip settling deep inside her.

  A few more thrusts and she started to shake. “Yes, yes,” he hissed. “Come now, but watch. Open your eyes. See the wild woman I make you—the wild woman you are.”

  She was sweaty and messy—but ripe and fabulous at the same time, her eyes hazy and her mouth red from sucking on him. No wonder Giorgio was so turned on by watching her. Together they were incredibly erotic, his thighs bulging with muscle as he pumped into her.

  He held a breast in each hand as if offering himself a present, his hands tanned and strong against her soft white flesh. “Touch yourself.”

  In a daze, she moved her hand down to her swollen clit and plucked the knot of nerves. Her moans grew in volume and intensity until she exploded. She collapsed but he held her upright, one strong arm across her breasts while he played with her clit. She tossed her head back and forth as he licked and sucked on her neck.

  Her world shrank to the three of them—her, Giorgio and the mirror.

  She’d never tried watching herself climax before and was mildly chagrined at her goofy expressions, but the one expression she couldn’t get enough of was Giorgio’s.

  Hungry and lustful, sure, but tender and affectionate, as well. And when she’d hit the absolute peak, he wore a look of satisfaction and masculine pride, that yeah, he’d been the guy to do that for her.

  And she wanted to be the woman to do that for him. She looked over her shoulder and gave him her best come-hither. “Come on, big boy. Your turn.”

  He sighed happily and pounded into her, grunting with every thrust. It was hard and wild and full and tight. “Look,” she reminded him. “Look at how you take me.”

  He opened his eyes wider and stared at their bodies locked together in untamed passion. “Che bella, la cosa più bella del mondo…”

  Good, he thought it was the most beautiful thing in the world. So did she.

  He stiffened and started to come, trying valiantly to keep his eyes open to see them. He gave up after a couple earthshaking shocks and buried his face in her shoulder, his breath hot and wet on her skin.

  Renata stared at herself in the mirror. Who was she, that she could bring a powerful man to such a shuddering climax just by being herself?

  It was a disturbing idea that she had such power over him—and he had such power over her. He lifted his head suddenly and their gazes locked. “Ah, Renata.” He looked like he wanted to say more but was at a loss for words.

  “Giorgio,” she whispered, at an equal loss.

  He eased from her and kissed her cheek. “Let’s rest. Then you can show me whatever amazing swimsuit you packed.”

  She smiled back, more at ease again. “You’ve got a deal.”

  12

  RENATA CAME OUT of the bathroom in her brand-new bathing suit she’d bought last summer from a pinup girl clothing website based in L.A. It was a pure vintage look with bright red cherries dotting the white fabric. The bottoms were high-waisted with enough coverage for her ample tush, and the bikini top was halter-style, a knot between her breasts that hiked up the girls quite nicely. It made her look ripe and lush, and she thought it was the cat’s meow.

  Giorgio obviously agreed. “Swimming is canceled. We’re staying in.”

  “Oh, no we aren’t.” She skipped by him, neatly dodging his grab. “If we wait much longer, it will be too dark to swim.”

  He frowned. “All right. But don’t you have a robe or cover-up you can wear?”

  She raised an eyebrow in puzzlement. “It’s not exactly chilly out there.” Then she understood his disgruntlement. “You don’t want the sailors whistling at me. Don’t worry, the captain runs too tight a ship for that.”

  “Tight ship or not, they are men. And a man would have to be dead not to notice you—the good captain included.”

  “Aren’t you sweet.” She went up on tiptoe to kiss him. “Relax, and help me put on some sunblock.” She handed him a bottle.

  “You reject my advances and now want me to ru
b lotion all over you in the privacy of our lovely bedroom? Cruel woman.” But he opened the lid and squirted some into his palm.

  “Do it here, or else the sailors can watch you slick me up.” She pulled her hair into a quick French twist and clipped it into place.

  He grumbled at her flip suggestion but did as she asked him. “You do need this sun lotion with your white skin. How did a redhead like you avoid freckles?”

  She laughed. “Have you ever heard of Goths?”

  “Somehow I do not think you are not talking about the Germanic tribes that invaded Rome during the Dark Ages?”

  “No.” She grinned, bending slightly so he could rub some into the small of her back. “I used to be a Goth girl. Sad, gloomy rock music, white makeup and lots of black eyeliner. Oh, and black hair.”

  He spun her around to face him. Wow, he really had something against the Goths. “You…you dyed your beautiful red hair…black?”

  Her grin broke in laughter. “Black as yours, but not as nice and shiny since it was from a bottle.”

  He still stared at her. “But you are perfect the way you are.”

  She stifled a snort. She had many good qualities but perfection wasn’t one of them. “I wasn’t very happy when I was a teenager. I didn’t want to take the college prep classes that my father wanted me to take and I didn’t want to take the secretarial classes my mother wanted me to take. I just daydreamed and doodled outfits in my notebooks all day long.”

  Since it was True Confessions time, she told him the rest. “My mother was always nagging me to lose weight.”

  He lifted a questioning eyebrow but prudently didn’t comment.

  “Although I’m not exactly skinny right now—”

  “Again, you are perfect. Round and smooth and…and…voluptuous,” he announced, triumphant at remembering the precise English word.

  “I had about sixty pounds of extra perfection back then. I looked like a black olive, short and fat.”

  “I love olives.” Giorgio folded his arms over his chest.

  “So do I. And I loved pasta, cannoli, lasagna, veal parmesan and all the Italian home-cooking that I ate three times a day.” She shook her head and laughed. “Come on, three-cheese lasagna for dinner and they expected me to lose weight? My brothers could eat like that because they were either cops or firefighters or training to be cops or firefighters. I was sitting in school all day and sitting listening to Goth rock on my CD player at night.”

  “So what did you do?”

  “I just got sick of black.” He gave her a puzzled look. “Seriously, I wore all black every single day. Even Christmas. Some of my black clothes got worn-out and my mother refused to buy me any more. She told me to wear my grandmother’s dresses if I was going to dress like an old Italian widow.”

  He groaned.

  “Yeah, I know. Tact has never been her thing, but she had a point. So I took some money and went to the thrift store. And on the mannequin, there was this absolutely gorgeous dress. It was this stunning grayish-blue silk with a tiny waist and fitted bodice and full skirt—the kind of dress you’d wear if your boyfriend got front row seats to a Sinatra concert. Nineteen-fifties,” she added in case he didn’t realize what era she was describing.

  “And you wanted that dress.”

  “Desperately. I fell in love with the dress and fell in love with vintage fashion. But I quickly learned a couple things—if I wanted to fit into the originals, I would need to lose some weight. And if I wanted to make copies, I would need to learn how to sew. My aunt Barbara was thrilled to teach me, and I lost enough weight to where I felt better physically, stopped wearing so much makeup and let my hair grow out. It was two-toned for a while, avant-garde for Brooklyn back then, but it’s now actually stylish among some kids.”

  He nodded. “Stefania had blue streaks in her hair as a teenager.”

  “It’s practically a requirement when you attend art school.”

  “Well, my grandmother didn’t care for it. I barely kept her from getting a tattoo or body piercings.”

  Renata touched the small diamond in her nose. “She probably wouldn’t like this. My mother hates it but my grandmother thinks it’s great—mostly because it annoys my mother.”

  “Your grandmother sounds like fun.”

  “She’s a real pistol—she’s reached that age where Italian women just let it rip. Whatever they think comes out of their mouth. She horrifies my mother and Aunt Barbara because they never know what she’ll say next.”

  “If only you were an older woman, Renata. That way you could say what you really mean instead of holding back your true thoughts.” He couldn’t even finish his sentence without cracking into a wide grin.

  She swiped at him, but he easily ducked away.

  “If only you could speak your mind—I never know what you are thinking.” He was guffawing by then.

  She grabbed him in a bear hug, her lotioned arms sliding around his waist. “You are a terrible tease.”

  “Who, me?” He put on an innocent look. “Do I ever arouse your sexy body and then leave you unsatisfied?”

  “Not that kind of a tease.” She huffed in mock indignation.

  He gave her a quick peck on the lips. “If you are not satisfied, Renata, you are sure fooling me.”

  “Giorgio!” she squawked and pushed him away. “You’re making me blush.” The heat was creeping up into her cheeks.

  “All right, all right. Let me show you the surprise the captain and I have planned for this afternoon.”

  “You can’t possibly have any more surprises for me. I think I’m all surprised out.” The past day had been the culmination of an astonishing trip.

  “One more, if you promise you won’t faint from shock. On the other hand, I could loosen your garments to make sure you’re breathing properly…” He leered cheerfully at her.

  She rolled her eyes. Considering she was wearing a two-piece swimsuit, the outcome would be less than altruistic. “Is the surprise up on deck?”

  “In a way.” He grabbed their robes and a couple towels, so it looked like they were going for a swim. She hoped the water wasn’t too cold.

  They climbed up to the deck and the boat slowed as it passed a rocky outcrop. “Here we are—are you ready to swim?”

  “Oh, okay.” She was a pretty good swimmer—all the padding in her boobs and ass made her a champion floater.

  Giorgio went into the water first and then helped her down the boat ladder. She flinched slightly at the water temperature, but it was pretty good considering there were probably icebergs floating somewhere outside New York Harbor this time of year.

  Giorgio noticed her wince. “How’s the water?” He seemed to notice everything about her, even the small things.

  “Brisk, I’ll get used to it.” She moved her arms and legs experimentally.

  “Let’s swim over to that rock. The captain tells me you can sometimes see interesting fish there.”

  “Sure.” It had been a long time since she’d swum in salt water and she really enjoyed the increased buoyancy. “This is nice, Giorgio.” She fell into an easy crawl. He did a lazy backstroke, his long arms and legs holding back so he could stay with her.

  “Glad you like it.”

  “I’ve never gone swimming off the side of a boat in deeper water like this.” It was kind of spooky to imagine a hundred feet of open water below her. Anything could be swimming down there, looking up. Oh, look, what kind of new snack is that, flailing around in the water? Yum, wonder how that tastes?

  “Giorgio!” She squealed and slapped at the water’s surface, splashing him with droplets. “Stop that!”

  “Stop what?” he asked.

  “Tickling my feet with yours.”

  “Renata, cara, I am a couple meters away from you. How can I reach your feet?”

  She yelped at the sensation of something smooth brushing her ankle. “There it is again.” She launched herself at Giorgio at the glimpse of a dorsal fin below them. “Oh, my Go
d! Are there sharks here?”

  He caught her easily and glanced over at the yacht. The deckhands were pointing to them out in the water but were smiling instead of screaming in horror.

  Renata took a closer look at what was going for a swim with them. “Dolphins,” she breathed. A herd, or pod, or squad of dolphins had come upon them and circled around them, their slick bodies gleaming silver under the clear water.

  She’d seen her share of dolphins at the zoo and aquarium, but they were a performing poodle version of this wild animal. Moving at incredible speeds crisscrossing each other, they never faltered.

  Renata relaxed her grip on Giorgio’s arm, doubly glad they weren’t sharks because she had probably dug her fingers in hard enough to draw blood. “Have you ever seen them in the wild?”

  He shook his head. “Only in the distance from a boat—never to swim with them.”

  “What do we do?”

  “Since we don’t resemble a school of anchovies, I think we are safe.”

  “Safe,” Renata echoed. She always felt safe with Giorgio—everything but her heart. “I don’t want to be safe.”

  “No?” He grinned at her. “How did I guess that about you? Come on.” He grabbed her hand and took a deep breath. She only had a split second to do the same before he tugged her under the blue water.

  Instantly they were in a different realm that muffled their vision and hearing but heightened touch. Despite his assurances, Renata clutched Giorgio as several hundred pounds of marine carnivore slid by, her gasp coming out in a soundless stream of bubbles. He patted her arm and pointed. A mother dolphin and her baby nodded their sleek, round heads at her, their wide mouths silently laughing at the gangly mammals who’d stumbled into their home turf.

  The mother nudged Baby toward them, but Renata was running out of air. She and Giorgio surfaced and so did Baby, spraying them with a fine plume from his tiny blow-hole. Mamma Dolphin popped up a second later, clicking and squeaking at them.

  “Is it okay to touch them?” She’d seen wildlife documentaries where it could cost a limb to mess with a baby and his mother.