by Aster, Avery
“Thrift shopping at La Boutique Resale, we didn’t fit into the European cuts. So we picked up the Girasoli elastic fabric in the garment district and started stitching it with the clothing we wanted to wear but couldn’t. You know, due to our physical imperfections.” She put her hands on her hips.
“I don’t see any flaws.” He noted Lex’s hips resembled Jennifer Lopez’s signature physique. Holding onto Lex’s body excited him.
“Hello!” Lex snapped her fingers.
“Scusi,” he offered.
“Easton stemmed not from commerce, but a new friendship and need for better garments.”
Lex gave him a glare to say she was the real deal.
He realized his objectives for launching his line were quite different from hers. Her story spoke authentic. His did not.
“Grazie for sharing with me.” He reckoned her journey was much more than he’d expected. “I did not know this about Easton. All we tracked were your sales numbers.”
“I came to Italy for Easton’s betterment”—she smiled, looking up at him—“and for my own livelihood.”
Lex was smarter than he’d given her credit for. He’d been uncomfortable with Jemma’s designs since he first laid eyes on them. Something about Jemma’s work never quite settled right with him. But he’d overlooked it. He was never one to micromanage and he trusted his design team. Now he needed to go with his instincts, which told him Lex knew fashion.
“We have much work ahead.”
She put the catalog in her bag. “Yes, your girlfriend has tons to do prior to production. These samples will need to be redone.”
“Jemma isn’t my girlfriend.” He’d been single for a year. His cock’s hiatus extended out past six months. “Let me show you the other offices.” He turned and headed to the next building.
* * * * *
Lex thought back to the pool orgy yesterday. “You guys flocked lovebird style out by your garden,” she accused.
“I am single, Lex. I do not have a girlfriend to speak of.”
“If she’s not something more official, then she’s your lover.” As they headed down what appeared to be a connecting walkway from building to building, she wondered, why would he bother to lie to her?
“Sì, we dated a while back,” he confirmed. “But we are not an item, not an exclusive one, anyway.”
“I get it. You’re not monogamous.” It made sense to her now. The prince made love to the women in the summer and then put them to work in the factories in the winter. He had a real racket going. Pig!
“No. If you must know, we are not even sleeping together. She has turned her energy toward Luigi and the girls. They have an open relationship going.” He kept walking toward the passageway’s narrow ending.
“You guys are a tight group?”
He stopped and glared at her. “Milano runs in a piccolo social circle. We see the same people over and over again.”
A small circle. His response sounded familiar. The singles scene in Manhattan worked in a similar fashion, which was why she never slept with the men she met unless she dated them. Dating for Lex was ages ago.
“Tell me.” She pulled on her purse strap. “You don’t believe—”
Massimo covered her mouth with his large hand. “Must we talk about this?” he whispered in her ear, as if they were having the conversation in a public forum.
Is monogamy a sore subject? She pulled his hand from her lips. “I’m sorry. Your personal life isn’t my business.” Lex wanted to make it her business. “And I couldn’t care less who your lovers are.” Perhaps true yesterday, but today? Indeed, Lex’s interest was in knowing what made his heart tick, let alone what made his dick rise. Still, she couldn’t let him see how much she wanted him.
She stood facing him in the dark hallway. Stale office air mixed with musky cologne made her nose itch.
He studied her face then answered. “My motives and monogamy have nothing to do with one another,” Massimo clarified. “For your inquiring records, my padre, my grandfather, and his father included lovers and friends in addition to wives. The women are either mistresses or Tittoni wives who accept their royal duties.”
You’re delusional. She wondered if Prince William, Duke of Cambridge, put Kate through this shit behind Kensington Palace’s closed doors. Good luck in finding your princess.
Lex turned the corner after him and they entered the second building. There, on a crate in shrink wrap and tagged “Easton Essentials”, was Lex’s order. A large neon orange sticker read “Arresto.”
Jesus Christ in a box. Panic nearly closed her throat. She stared at the delivery, imagining what lay inside. Her future—a destiny she’d never have if she couldn’t get the fabric. Knowing her designs brought joy to her mother, wholesale clients, and her consumers made it even worse.
When she could speak, she said, “And here it is. The freight needed to start my season’s collection next week.” Her eyes were bothered with tears despite her effort to hold them back. The order wasn’t enough fabric to send to Asia or to go into retail production. But it was just enough to get the samples done for the runway and publicize the concept. “Massimo, please, I’ll do anything—”
“Stop—don’t.” He stepped closer and placed her hand in his. “Girasoli must get its own line off the ground.”
Embarrassed, she wiped her eyes. “Why can’t I continue with my brand in the prestige market?” Her breath shortened with each word. “You can sell yours in the mass channel.” She waited for a response but then added, “Girasoli will make more money in mass than prestige.”
She’d give him some trade secrets, but not the trade secret. She’d never. Then he’d become her ultimate rival. It was one thing to do a knockoff concept in the lower end channels, but it was another to do an identical to the premium product similar to hers.
“Bella, you drive me crazy. You show up during my holiday demanding I give you these fabrics. You’re impossible to dine with, you don’t eat Italiano food. You ridicule the collection slated to boost my business—though your calculations on the designs are correct.”
“And?”
Lips tensing, he spoke again, nostrils flaring. “And now—you want me to change my course and give you the fabrics after I have stated no on paper, over the phone and in person.” He quirked his eyebrows, resembling a devil taunting his prey, and she felt her breath hitch.
His lips pursed again. Fighting a grin? A calm washed over his face as every tense furrow lifted in ease. Was he maybe going to…?
“Let us go to my office. I have a proposition, a business one, I would care to discuss with you. My real reason I brought you here today.”
I’m so over this. “I should be going to Donatella’s offices. If you’ll get my bag from your limo, I’ll be on my way.” Avoiding eye contact, she didn’t care about anything other than her shipment. No more free fashion advice for Girasoli. She’d bill him and Jemma by the hour.
“We will discuss how we are going to ship your freight to JFK this week.” Massimo pointed at her shipment.
Thank you God, Gianni Versace and Alexander McQueen for answering my prayers.
Arms wide, she hugged him. She wrapped herself around his upper chest and held on if he were an old friend. “Thank you, Massimo, thank you, thank you, thank you.” She shook a little from the stress, the trip, getting the collection off the ground. She wondered if Massimo could feel her tension melting. “You’ve saved my company. You saved my life.”
He kissed her. At first his lips were dry and still, but with one fast lick they became wet, and his tongue fierce inside her mouth, locking them together—inviting her to explore his desire.
From cold to warm to blazing hot, the graze worked itself into a euphoric frenzy. Leaning into his embrace, she felt small in comparison to his mighty build. She opened her right eye once to see, as she followed his lead, and snapped her lid shut when she noticed him looking too.
His cock grew hard against her torso. Reaching down
, she rubbed his dick through his slacks. Oh Masi.
“You want my cock, bella?” He leaned in for more, pressing his groin into her palm as she tugged at his zipper.
Everything she desired, the fabrics, but also something more than she’d ever imagined—enjoyment from the very prince she’d fantasized over. Being in Massimo’s arms caused her to forget to breathe. She felt faint.
He cupped his hand over his mouth to savor the moment then spoke, “We are not in the clear yet. Come.” He motioned her down the hall. “I have a proposition for you.”
Chapter Six
Sweet Tiramisu Melts in Your Mouth
“Wowzers! Your CEO’s wing is gorgeous,” she held his arm for a minute. This man does everything sooo first class. Why can’t my showroom be as fierce as this? Hell, we don’t even have health insurance—yet.
Similar to his personality, Massimo’s office was decorated with dignified and masculine artifacts. He had a grand desk boasting spiral and bobbin motifs, carved from mahogany with gold hardware holding court in the middle. Racks spiraled with tapestry were thrown up against each other and pinned with call tags. Tittoni’s dynasty pictures lined his work space. Some were in black and white, others in sepia tones and a few in color. They were nobles. She could tell. Each lady sported a royal ascot hat, statement jewelry in diamonds with pearls, and the men in armor.
“History galore in these pictures.” She held up a heavy frame for close inspection. Compared to her itsy family tree, she couldn’t imagine such an extended royal unit filled with aunts and uncles. “I can see where you get your good looks from,” she said, admiring what she assumed must be his grandfather.
“Family heroes,” he commented as she held up a photo for better examination. “They were nobles from Sardinia, Croatia and Savoy.” He took the frame from her hand and returned it to its place.
Massimo hung his head. “I am not sure about this, Lex. If I give you the fabrics, what am I getting from this?”
“What do you fancy?” I’ve got a few things in mind.
He pulled her into him, but this time by his own accord. His black eyes blazed intensity. Raising her chin, he asked, “What are you going to give me in return?” He kissed her.
The warmth from his lips melted the tenseness in her jaw. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been in a man’s arms twice in one day. He felt wonderful. She wanted his cock in her mouth too.
“Masi.” She mumbled her little nickname for him aloud for the first time as their lips moved together. Their tongues touched, tasted, she struggled to breathe. Lex felt as though she’d pass out if they kept going. Each time she’d gasp for air, he’d fill her lungs with his sweet breath. Every square inch became sensitive and aware. A giddy tingle washed over her.
“I want you, Lex Easton,” he moaned, pressing his hand over her backside and pulling her in with a tight force. Massimo plunged his tongue deeper into her mouth. Their noses meshed, and as he pulled his face from hers, he wiped the dampness from his forehead. She noticed and wondered if she made him nervous?
“Bring it on, my prince!” She brought her right leg up around his left. Lex didn’t want to let him go. She craved more. Unsure what came over her, she leaned forward and kissed him back with a feverish intent as her breasts grazed his chest and desire exploded inside her. Her nipples became hard with desire. She fell against the sofa, where he shoved her sundress up around her waist.
He studied her lacy thong. She loved him looking, more than ever when he ground his hips against her. “Sei bellissima,” he murmured, nuzzling her earlobes. “Do you know how beautiful you are?”
“Tell me again and again,” she joked, getting more at ease with his compliments. Massimo’s words echoed in her ear.
“I told you the dress looked good on you. I bet it will look even better off you.” He grinned.
“Touch me.” She took his right hand and placed it over her panties, letting his thumb hook on her fabric. Rip it off already.
His fingers glided up her bare stomach and tickled her with pleasure. Upon each caress, his lips kissed her body. He tugged on the little carnation bow centered on her G string. “What do we have here, bella?” With both hands, he lowered the ivory fabric which kept her private, wrapping the metallic lace between his fingers, and she became exposed—vulnerable and naked in his arms. But he didn’t lower his own slacks, though his zipper seemed as if it would split his linens, revealing his hung loins at any minute.
“Take off your pants,” she bossed. She was a Manhattanite. What did Massimo expect?
“Patience, my bella. I favor taking my time.” He brushed her lips with his pointer and middle finger. With a slow drop of her jaw, she opened her mouth as he inserted two fingers over her tongue. “Such a tight, hot, mouth—my cock on your lips and down your throat will do you some good, bella. Your tongue is too sharp.”
“Mmmmm,” she mumbled. Sucking his fingers, pretending his cock fucked her mouth, she tasted vetiver. His skin felt callous, rough, and yet his nails groomed and smooth. Lex swallowed, imagining for a second it was his load going down her throat. “This is what I’ll be doing to your cock soon enough.” She spoke with confident poise. Unsure where in the hell it came from, she’d run with it.
It turned him on. His eyes widened with excitement.
“Good girl, bella. I love the way your tongue feels against my fingers. Wet suede is how your cunt will feel hugging my cock—when I am inside you,” he continued with a gaze into her eyes. Massimo challenged her to see how verbal she could be.
“Sounds good to me. Let’s go, Masi.” Sweet tiramisu, his voice is making me wet. His words reverberated in her head as a spell cast to unleash her deepest fantasies. She wanted to be his utopia. Massimo’s coolness combined with determination terrified her—in a good way.
“I bet you have a wet cunt.” He shoved his fingers into her mouth. His commanding, deep, baritone voice was hypnotic.
I do now. Her pussy creamed while listening to him speak, while his tone vibrated though her entire body.
“Yes, yes, Masi.” For a second her entrepreneurial brain imagined recording him speak, selling it on iTunes, calling it Come While Massimo Talks. Women could charge up their Masi’s Salami vibrators, lie on their beds, play his voice and off they’d go—to sunflower island. Jesus Fucking Christ.
“Let me touch you, feel your pussy, bella.”
Touch me for sure. Feel me, you bet. Fuck me, let’s go.
Massimo pulled his two wet fingers from her mouth as she whispered, “Do it.” Saliva strings connected his two fingers resembling fine silk.
“I want your pussy soaking.” He then re-licked his tips and fingered one inside her.
Yes, yes, yes. A pleasurable moan rose in her throat as he went deeper, stimulating her clit. A vibration hummed through her body. Her womanhood found its own tune chiming through her, following the conductor’s direction. It was set to an Italian station, that was for sure.
Bliss. Ecstasy. Joy.
“More. Give me more,” she panted.
“Breathe,” he instructed.
Exhaling, she tried to calm down. Always in control, always giving orders, and for once she’d take his lead and let a man tell her what to do. Her eyes rolled into darkness as she closed her fluttering lids to savor the movement. She arched her back, lowered her right hand and placed it over his, encouraging him to go deeper. “Yes, deeper. I want more.”
“Your pussy is tight.” Massimo’s fingers glided—faster, harder, deeper—he went in and out.
Fuuuuuuck. “What—what are you doing to me?” She held on to his massive biceps to brace herself for what came next as he worked, her body beneath his.
His face was focused, his forearms taut as his fingers danced inside her.
She gasped.
“I am giving you pleasure and taking satisfaction in return. Now lie back and enjoy yourself.” He gave her a nod to do as told.
“Take my tight pussy, Masi.” Rel
axing against the sofa, she trusted his embrace.
He lifted her legs up higher off the sofa’s edge as he balanced at her side.
“Touch yourself for me. I want to watch you.” He ordered as he guided her hands over her pussy, giving her permission to masturbate while he stared.
Lex rubbed her clit while he massaged her butt. His thumb pad rested on her anus.
“Bella,” he panted. Massimo leaned down and licked inside her ass.
“My ass?” she asked, squirming in her seat because it felt cool against her skin.
“My fingers tell me your ass needs to be disciplined and broken in a bit.” Massimo spoke his mind as he yanked her by the hips closer to his face. “Broken in a lot, bella.”
Lord Almighty.
He pushed his thumb inside her asshole.
“Masi has an asshole fetish,” she joked, trying to breathe. “My ass can’t take a cock like yours. I wouldn’t be able to sit for days.” She lifted her ass a little higher, teasing him and taking the burn from his fingers.
“Weeks, bella. Not days but weeks afterward, you won’t be able to sit. Sì, sì, sì.” He spread her ass flesh apart while pressing her clit with his other hand. Her nub burned sensitive and became hard as he touched, rubbed and fingered. “Your pussy is tight. Between your pussy and your ass, I am having a hard time deciding which my cock may take first.”
Lex clenched her hungry cunt around his fingers. “Start—with my pussy!” she shouted as she touched herself, getting wetter by the second. He indeed pushed her to the limits. She’d go beyond his if he dared.
Double penetration pleasure. Her mind went blank. Purity washed over her. For the first time in a long time she’d thought about nothing but herself, her needs, her wants. She couldn’t even speak—no refusal, nothing. Her sharp tongue had been muted, swelling in her mouth.
“Come for me, Lex. I want you to come on my fingers.” Her pussy flipped over in spasms as his fingers went in deeper. His movements built into frenzy.
“Ummm. Huh. Umm.”
