Winter

by Michelle Love

  ‘How personal!’

  ‘Yes, it is. Much like you asking me if I get my rocks off when I give a woman the abuse she asks for. So, do you have one or not?’

  ‘Maybe,’ she writes.

  ‘Jade, I’m not a man who takes a lot of crap from people. Answer the question forthrightly. Or I can end this correspondence with one finger.’

  ‘I have one. What should I do with it, Pierce?’

  “That’s better,” I say with a sigh.

  ‘Get it and put it where you’d like my cock to be, my love.’

  ‘Can you please refrain from saying words like love. I know you don’t love me. I don’t want this to get to that level. Ever!’

  “Damn!” I groan at her mouthy reply.

  I type in, ‘How about, baby then?’

  ‘I suppose that’ll be okay. I’ll be right back. I have to lube it all up. What color is your hair?’

  “Whatever color you want it to be, baby,” I say out loud as I type, ‘Brown.’

  It takes her a while to get back to me, and I stop rubbing my cock as I wait for her. I’ve never done this shit before. This is new to me. It’s a little weird, and I wish like hell I could actually fuck her. I wonder if that will ever be a possibility.

  ‘Brown? How long is it?’ she writes back.

  My hand begins to move on my cock again. ‘Short on the sides, long on top. Long enough you can run your hands through it. Your hair color?’

  ‘Black. Shoulder length. I just got it cut.’

  I like long hair, so I type, ‘Let it grow. I want to braid it when you come to me. Now tell me what you long for, Jade. Long walks on the beach, or hot nights in the sheets?’ I laugh as I use the corny-ass line.

  ‘Come to you?’ she writes.

  ‘Fantasy play, baby. Just go with it. And do you have that dildo going?’

  ‘I do,’ she sends me. ‘And I think I’d like to see what it’d be like in your sheets, Pierce.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘This is a fantasy, remember?’ she puts back.

  Mentally, I scold myself for being so quick to type that. What an amateur!

  ‘Just seeing if you were paying attention. Okay, I like to fuck hard. Push that cock into your sweet cunt, is it vibrating?’

  ‘Oh yeah,’ she writes. ‘And you want me to do it real hard, don’t’ you?’

  ‘Real hard. Slam my cock into your hot pussy, baby. Slam me in there until you’re ready to pop, then stop.’

  I wait, stroking my cock as I think about my real cock going into her tight virgin canal. Man, I want her!

  ‘I’m on the edge, now what?’ she sends me.

  The grin that forms is something I’m sure looks sadistic as I type, ‘Place that cock in your mouth and taste yourself, baby.’

  “No fucking way!’

  ‘DO IT!’ I wait and wait.

  After about three minutes, she sends, ‘Oh my God! I did it! And kind of made out with the vibrator. Oh God! I’m sick, aren’t I? Oh, don’t bother answering that. I know I am. I need to go. You have me doing terrible things. Bye.’

  ‘You’re not sick, Jade. Fuck, stop being such a prudish baby!’

  ‘I am a prude, aren’t I?’ her words echo in my head. ‘I’ll never be an erotic or even a comedy romance writer. I’ll most likely write boring articles for the newspaper and live in a house full of cats. Sorry to have bothered you.’

  Sitting up, I hurriedly type, ‘Don’t end this! Please, don’t. Jade, I’d like to talk to you more. I really would. I’m the kind of man who likes to see dreams come to fruition. Much like in the scenes I create with the subs. And damn it, I want to create something for you. How about a scene where you’re already a celebrated author of erotic romance? A cool, sultry vixen you are. At your first awards ceremony, I escort you to the podium to accept your award as the best writer in the universe.’

  ‘This is silly,’ she writes back, but I’m happy she’s still there.

  ‘No, it’s not. Help me create it. What are you wearing to this awards ceremony?’

  ‘I like myself in black. Most of my clothes are black.’

  ‘What color are your eyes?’ I ask her.

  ‘Brown, well, a kind of golden brown.’

  ‘I see you in a yellow, flowing, nearly see-through dress. It billows out behind you as I hold you by the waist, possessively. The world thinks you’re mine and I’m proud to be at your side as you take the stage. Your creamy thighs make brief appearances through long slits in the dress as you glide over the tan marbled floor. And then a tall, elegant woman, wearing a short, tight red dress, hands you a crystal trophy. Your name is etched in the crystal; Writer of the year, Jade Thomas. And then you look into my eyes.’

  She asks, ‘What color are they?’

  I’m glad to see she’s getting into it and type, ‘Blueish brown, hazel is what they’re called. When you look into them, I can see your depth. You have honesty and courage, and I’m lost in your gaze. The people are all cheering, and I turn you to look at them then slap your ass, making them all cheer. You blush and drop your gorgeous head. I take your chin with two of my fingers and make you look up and tell you how perfect you are.’

  ‘Then do we kiss?’ she asks, and I can almost feel her breathless question even though it’s only written words.

  ‘Our mouths make slow progress to the others. Our lips touch and heat builds inside of us both. Then my tongue eases through your lips, taking your tongue, making it submit to mine. I move my tongue around yours in a dance that sends it into a frenzy of lusty need as I cradle you in my strong arms.’

  ‘Ahem, so in this little fantasy, other than the slap on my ass, what else occurs, in the punishment department?’ she asks.

  I feel she’s too into the punishment part of what this is all about and admonish her, quickly, ‘Jade, I didn’t ask you to ask me questions. I told you to add to the fantasy what you wanted to. You have to quit acting as if this is about punishment all the time. If you want me to take you by the neck with my belt and haul your sweet ass off stage where I throw you up against the wall and take you right there on the backstage, then say that. DO NOT ask me what I’ll do to you! This is your fantasy, tell me what you want. Do you want me to pull your dress away from your breasts and take a flogger to them as your fans watch? Or would you like to be a bit more discreet and have me escort you off stage then take you to your dressing room and bend you over the chair you sat in when they did your hair and makeup and smack your ass until you cry then shove my cock into your wet pussy?’

  ‘Damn!’ is her reply.

  I tell her the same thing, ‘Damn, is right. Your mind is narrow where BDSM is concerned. You’ve formed your opinions on the trash you’ve read in those stupid little novels. Here, in my world, things aren’t always glowing brightly in the sun, but sometimes they are. All is not dark. All is not sinister. And all is not as the fairy tales lead you all to believe. Pain is a part of life, and when one finds it can be turned into a pleasure you could never get anywhere else, it becomes addictive. Don’t judge until you’ve been there, Jade Thomas!’

  ‘You’re right, Pierce. This was a mistake. Bye.’

  ‘NO!’

  I wait and wait, but she’s gone. She’s really gone. And I’m left feeling more empty than I’ve ever been…

  To be continued…

  This Novel will be finished and published in May 2017

  Winter Extended Epilogue

  After the death of his ex-girlfriend, Perdita, in a car accident, Tommaso discovers he is the father of her young son. He agrees to take the youngster on, but finds himself ill-prepared for fatherhood.

  Not helping matters is the fact that he can’t get British singing superstar, Bo Kennedy, off his mind. Since their flirtatious meeting at his brother Raffaelo’s wedding, Tommaso and Bo have been thinking about each other, but it takes Tommaso’s sister-in-law, Inca to match-make for them.

  Will Bo, wary of relationships after the death of her last lover,
take a risk on Tommaso? And how will their relationship be affected by the presence of Matteo, who is finding adjusting to his new life hard? When a disturbing incident reminds them all that life is short, Tommaso and Bo make a decision that will change their lives.

  Will love—in all its forms—conquer all?

  Tommaso opened his eyes and stared up at the ceiling. Blank white tiles. Every part of his body hurt, but he swept his eyes over the room. Raffaelo noticed he was awake and smiled.

  “Hey, brother … how do you feel?”

  “Like I just did four rounds with Mike Tyson.’ Tommaso found he could move his arms and legs, and attempted to sit up. Raffaelo was at his side in an instant.

  “Wait, wait! You have tubes and wires and …”

  He helped Tommaso sit up—which Tommaso immediately regretted when his head swam. “Jesus … what happened?”

  “You were run off the road; a drunk driver. You’ve only been out a few hours … God, Tommaso …” Raffaelo’s voice broke, then he put his head in his hands. “Thank God you’re okay.”

  Tommaso went still, gazing at his brother, his memories returning. “Oh … no … what about Matteo? Perdita?”

  Raffaelo’s eyes were full of sorrow. “Tommaso … Perdita is dead. Killed instantly, they say. Matteo was brought in a little while ago—we think he has concussion, like you, but nothing major. Inca is with him now.”

  Tommaso felt as if he had been kicked in the chest. “Perdita’s … dead?”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  The two brothers sat in silence for the longest time, trying to come to terms with the horror of what had happened. Then, steeling himself, Tommaso took a deep breath in and looked steadily at his brother. “The DNA test.”

  Raffaelo nodded slowly. “The lab called while we were in here, a few hours ago.”

  Not knowing whether he wanted to know the answer, Tommaso asked the question.

  He looked down at the sleeping boy, putting a hand out to touch the dark curls, so like his own.

  I am a father.

  Tommaso Winter, still heavily medicated, but insisting on seeing his son, sat by the boy’s bed. Matteo, the doctors assured him, would be fine after some rest and recuperation, but Tommaso knew that when he awoke, he would hear the worst news of his life.

  Tommaso looked over at Inca and Raffaelo. “I don’t know how to do this,” he said simply. “How to tell him his mother is gone.”

  Inca got up and came to sit by him, taking his hands in hers. “There is no easy way, Tommaso. Just be honest and reassure him that he will be looked after and loved.” She studied him, seeing the uncertainty in his eyes. “Tommaso, you are not alone. We three have always stuck together, and we always will. Matteo will have his father and his aunt and uncle, and all of us would die to protect him.”

  He smiled and kissed her cheek. “Thank you, bella. I just hope I’ll be enough.”

  “You will be …”

  Four months later …

  Tommaso remembered Inca’s words that night, that terrible night, and felt a wave of gratitude to his sister-in-law. She and Raffaelo had been nothing but committed to helping Matteo and Tommaso out. And he was grateful, but he still felt he was a tightrope walker with no net. Matteo missed his mother, to whom he had been completely bonded, only to be thrown into this life with three strangers. Luckily, Matteo had gravitated towards Inca and her natural warmth, and she had stepped up into the role of aunt/mother substitute, but now Tommaso felt wretched. One, because he still had no idea what he was doing with his son, and two, because Raffaelo had confided the couple’s inability to conceive their own child.

  “I feel like I’m rubbing salt into the wound,” he told his brother, and, although Raffaelo assured him Inca was okay, he sometimes saw the sadness in her face. Tommaso had sold his place in Venice and relocated back to Sorrento, but he could not expect Inca and Raffaelo to take up the slack any more. He needed to find a way to get through to Matteo.

  He watched him now, playing on the lawn outside the villa. Inca was chasing him around, making him scream with laughter. Raffaelo came to sit down next to his brother. Tommaso nodded at Inca and Matteo. “How does she do that? I mean,” he turned wide, confused eyes on his brother. “How does she know exactly what makes him laugh like that? And what to say to him to make him sleep okay?”

  Raffaelo grinned, and Tommaso waved a finger at him. “And don’t give me that ‘Because she’s amazing’ line again. I know she’s amazing, okay? I just need to know how …”

  “Tommaso, calm down. Inca does it because she tries stuff with him and checks out if he responds. She doesn’t know any secrets we don’t.”

  They watched as Inca picked Matteo up, swinging him in the air, then tucking him under her arm and pretending she couldn’t see him. Tommaso grinned as Matteo protested loudly, then burst into giggles when Inca ‘found’ him.

  Raffaelo grinned proudly. “You’re right, though; she is amazing.”

  “Shut up.”

  Inca was looking very shifty, later, when Raffaelo came into their bedroom. He narrowed his eyes at her. “What are you up to?”

  “Nothing.” She tried to keep a straight face, but he grabbed her and tickled her until she was shrieking with laughter.

  “Spill it,” he said, using a mock-threatening voice as he pinned her arms above her head and laid on top of her. She grinned and kissed him.

  “Okay … well, let’s just say I have a friend who has a young son and I may have invited her to come stay for a while.”

  Raffaelo released her hands, and she immediately started to unbutton his shirt. “Huh. That was the big secret?”

  “Ah-ha.” Her mouth was on his nipple now, her tongue teasing it. Raffaelo gazed down at her.

  “Wait a minute …”

  Inca tried and failed to look innocent. “What?”

  “Which friend?”

  “Huh?” Her tongue on his nipple began to work faster, obviously trying to distract him. He pulled away and caught her face between his palms, trying not to grin.

  “Which friend?”

  She shrugged. “Bo.”

  “Bo Kennedy?”

  She nodded and pulled his face down for a kiss. That did distract him, and she’d gotten him all the way naked before he stopped her again. She groaned, feeling his cock against her thigh, ready for her, but Raffaelo wouldn’t budge until she answered his questions.

  “No, woman, you’re not getting this until you answer me.”

  She told him she had invited Bo because he had a son and because she had liked the Englishwoman immensely at their wedding.

  Raffaelo wasn’t fooled for a moment. “You’re match-making.”

  “Am not.”

  “Inca.”

  She grinned unabashedly. “Maybe.”

  Raffaelo rolled his eyes and sighed. “You think this is a good idea?”

  “Seriously, I do, if only because Bo has a young son too; and she and Tommaso did get flirty at our wedding. I figured …”

  “I know what you figured, you bad girl,” and he thrust his cock deep inside her, making her gasp in shock. She wound her legs around his hips as he moved, her hips rocking in rhythm with his. “You figured you’d kill two birds with one stone.”

  Inca grinned up at him, her body undulating under him, her silky skin against his. “Is that so bad?”

  “I’m done talking about my brother’s sex life now,” he growled, and she giggled as he kissed her neck, thrusting harder and deeper into her as they fucked.

  “God, I love you, Raffaelo Winter …”

  Bo Kennedy managed to wrangle her young son, Tiger, into the limousine that Inca had sent for them, and breathed a sigh of relief. She loved Italy, loved the heat, the beauty, the people, but she had forgotten just how difficult it was to travel with a six-year-old.

  When Kit was alive, it was easier, she thought with a pang. Her lover, Kit Mallory, had been killed by an assassin’s bullet, saving Bo’s life, and she stil
l grieved for him. They had had a sexual, if antagonistic, relationship, but she had loved him with all her heart. The best thing though, had been that he and Tiger had adored each other, and she knew Tiger missed his presence as much as she did.

  Still … seeing Tommaso Winter again was something that made a little curl of desire inside of her flare up. He and his brother were two of the handsomest, most sensual men she had ever met, and she had adored Inca straight away. If she was being truthful, she had a feeling Inca was doing some match-making, and usually, as a strident, independent woman, she would have resisted … but Tommaso Winter … with those intense light green eyes and dark hair …

  Yum.

  Bo grinned to herself as the limousine made its way along the streets of Naples. What a glorious place, she thought now, and Tiger, staring out of the window, looked wide-eyed and impressed.

  That’s a good start, she thought, and when they arrived at Inca and Raffaelo’s villa, Tiger was quickly out of the car and exploring the lush gardens.

  Inca hugged Bo. “It’s so good to see you.”

  They spent the afternoon chatting and drinking wine on the patio, as Tiger played quite happily by himself. Then, as evening began to fall, Bo took a long, cool shower and changed for dinner while Inca kept Tiger busy helping her in the kitchen. Bo dressed in a cotton dress that fell lightly over her breakneck curves and shoved her blonde hair into a messy ponytail, applying only the lightest makeup.

  She heard Tiger chatting away to Inca as she walked to the kitchen, then her eyes widened when she saw the feast they had prepared. Huge salads, piles of fresh bread, and fresh fish, cooked to perfection. Bowls of fresh fruit salad, and a large, decadent chocolate cake. Inca blushed when Bo complimented her. “I thought we’d go a little plain, but still delicious, tonight, so the kids don’t get freaked out.”

  “Good idea … but I wouldn’t call this plain. God, I’m going to put on even more weight, aren’t I?”

  “You and me both—but do we care?”