Blue Shoes 2 (New Adult Erotic Romance)

by Knight, JJ

  His look makes me feel guilty. “Nothing,” I say, my voice practically a squeak.

  He shakes his head. “I should have given you some warning. Anyway, I got dinner because I thought you’d be hungry after work. I’m trying to put myself in your shoes. Your little blue shoes.”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  He smiles, and my heart melts with my love for him. “I’m not hungry, either. Not for food.”

  He kisses me roughly, his tongue finding mine. Then his hands are all over me, on the back of my neck, the small of back, my waist, my belly, my breasts and between my legs. He gets up from the chair, holding me in his arms. He carries me over to the bed, sets me down, and climbs on top of me.

  “You missed me,” he says. “Tell me you missed me.”

  “I did. I missed you so much.”

  Dylan grabs the lapels of my shirt and yanks each side apart. Buttons fly across the room.

  I shriek with delight, then quickly cover my mouth. “The walls are thin,” I whisper.

  “Good.” He unfastens my bra, releasing my breasts. “Let’s give the neighbors something to talk about.” He lowers his mouth over my nipple.

  I melt underneath him, relaxing back on the bed.

  He keeps kissing my breasts and neck as he pulls down my underwear and skirt.

  I reach down and pull open his jeans. I can feel his hard length against my inner thigh. I push his jeans down as far as I can reach, then finish the job with my feet. We’re almost completely naked, and his shirt is next. I reach down and he helps me pull it off.

  Our upper bodies press together, skin against skin.

  Dylan moves his tongue up the side of my neck and nibbles my earlobe. My heart races as his palms slide under my butt. He squeezes and cups my cheeks. He lifts my lower body and uses his leg to push apart my thighs.

  I moan that I’m ready for him to enter me.

  He pulls back from kissing my neck to give me a look, his dark eyes dancing. Then he shifts down the bed, kissing his way along the middle of my body.

  He reaches the space between my legs, and my breath catches in my throat. He’s gentle and tender, his tongue making small circles. I groan as heat rises up my body. The bed sheets crumple within my fists.

  With his mouth still on me, he reaches up to caress my torso and breasts. My nipples stand upright, wanting more of his touch.

  He moves back up my body. His eyes flash dangerously. His mouth covers mine again. I reach down between us and take him in my hands. I run the tip of my fingers up his length and trace around the tip.

  He groans on top of me, and I feel the rumble of his lust, all through my body.

  When he looks at me, his eyes are pure wolf. “I can’t believe I let you be away from me this long,” he says. “You’re mine.”

  He reaches under my back, lifting me up against his chest. I can feel him hard against the inside of my legs. I want him inside me. I want to be all his.

  Instead of taking me, he picks me up.

  He carries me over toward the balcony. The door’s partly open for fresh air, and he pushes it the rest of the way open with his foot.

  We’re both completely naked. My heart is racing.

  “What are you doing?” I ask, but I already know.

  He carries me over to the stone ledge of the balcony and sets me on it.

  He kisses me, then says, “I told you I’d show you the city I love.”

  The lights of Rome twinkle beneath us. We’re on a high enough floor that the people on the street below would have to really look to see us.

  There are no other tall buildings near us, just a beautiful view of the city at night. The moon hovers above.

  I tremble and cross my arms over my chest.

  “Are you cold?” he asks.

  The stone wall under my bare legs is cool, but not cold.

  “Just excited,” I whisper. I’m also nervous about the height, but the wall is thick. I know I’m safe, even though it feels dangerous.

  Dylan looks at me hungrily. He looks perfect in the moonlight, his handsome face devastating to my heart. He licks his lips, then pulls apart my legs and touches me with steady fingers. My muscles tremble as he pushes his fingers into me.

  “Perfetto,” he breathes. “That’s perfect, in Italian.”

  I shake my head. “I know that word. I’ve been here for weeks, waiting for you.”

  “And now I’m here.”

  “Now you’re here,” I whisper.

  I reach up and loop my arms around his shoulders.

  I’m expecting him to pick me up and carry me back into the room, to make love on the bed, but he doesn’t pick me up.

  He steps in close to me, his legs between mine, and slides his length inside me. My back arches as I cry out. Waves of pleasure pulse up my body. I burn with a feverish heat.

  I hang on tight with my arms around his shoulders as I angle my hips. He presses deeper inside me with every pump.

  He leans down and bites my shoulder. I dig my nails into his back.

  “You feel so good,” he growls. “I can’t get enough of you.”

  I glance over my shoulder at the lights below.

  “Don’t drop me.”

  “Never,” he growls.

  He circles his arms around my back and pulls me up to his chest. He thrusts into me, then reaches down to my hips and lifts me up, off the stone wall.

  I gasp as the moon and city lights swim around me.

  He’s holding me now. I wrap my legs around his waist, holding on tight.

  He pivots us, and brings us away from the edge. He presses my back against the exterior wall of the hotel, next to the balcony door.

  We kiss hard, then he drives me up the wall, pounding into me.

  “You missed me,” he murmurs.

  “I did.”

  “Tell me I’m the only one for you,” he whispers in my ear. His breath is hot and heavy.

  “You’re the only one. Together, we are… perfetto.”

  He buries himself in me, losing control. The moon and city lights blur around us. I close my eyes and merge with Dylan.

  Floating up from the streets below is the music of nightclubs and celebration, people calling out to their friends.

  Dylan is hot inside me, hard and powerful. He grips me tighter and grinds against me. The wall is steady behind me, still radiating warmth from the day’s sun.

  We move together in perfect rhythm. My skin is flushed, my breathing rapid. He’s so big inside me, filling me completely. The heat rides up inside me and explodes. I cry out in pleasure, my voice adding to the night sounds of the city.

  His breath becomes ragged. I feel him explode too, the shared pleasure like fireworks inside of us.

  Chapter Six

  Dylan carries me back into the room from the balcony. He gently sets me on the bed, then rubs his face.

  I smile up at him. Even rubbing his face and stifling a yawn, he’s gorgeous.

  “Are you tired?” I ask.

  “Maybe. I don’t know if it’s you, or the jet lag, but I can’t even remember my own name,” he says. “Food might help.”

  “Food always helps.” I roll across the bed and reach out to snag the room service trolley. I wheel it closer, then lift off one of the silver lids. A strong garlic and herb aroma comes out.

  “Yikes.” I drop the lid immediately.

  “Too cold?” Dylan asks. He takes a seat next to me on the bed.

  His nostrils flare as he catches the overpowering scent of the food.

  “Oops,” he says. “You know I like herbs and garlic, but that’s too much, even for me.”

  I nod toward the mini-bar. “We have chips and peanuts.”

  Dylan leans over and kisses the tip of my nose. “Actually, it’s not too late. I’ll take you out for dinner.”

  I smile and roll onto my back on the bed. We’re both still nude. “I don’t know if I want to risk leaving this room. I’m so happy you’re finally here.”

/>   “Me, too.” He looks down at my naked body and playfully plucks at my nipples. I can see him start to get hard again. He runs his fingers across my breasts, re-igniting my passion.

  “Rome is waiting for us,” he says gruffly.

  “I haven’t seen very much of it, you know. I’ve been saving myself for you.”

  He grins. “That’s what I like to hear. We’ll pack in as much as we can this weekend. I need to go back soon. Probably Monday.”

  “No!”

  “We haven’t finished recording yet. I should have waited in L.A. another week and finished up, but I couldn’t wait to see you for another second. I caught a last-minute flight to be here. Well, I had to take three different flights.”

  “Sounds expensive,” I say cautiously.

  We don’t usually talk about money, because he always assures me we have plenty of it. He tells me not to worry, which is exactly why I worry. I’ve seen enough to know there’s a lot riding on this next release. Besides the two L.A. houses, Dylan doesn’t have many investments.

  He does like to buy a new car every few months, though. He says it’s an investment in his image. I try not to worry too much. Even if he went completely broke, I still have my Morris salary. Sometimes I remind myself that I grew up having very little, and I can do it again. As long as I have Dylan, that’s worth more than anything.

  “The flights weren’t cheap.” He wraps his arms around me and kisses my neck. “But spending money or time to see you is always worth it.”

  He hovers over me on the bed and keeps kissing me. His lips move down to between my breasts, then my belly. He places gentle kisses around my navel. Suddenly, my stomach growls.

  He stops moving. “You’re hungry.”

  “I guess so. Even with all that garlic, the room service still smells so good. Did you eat on the plane?”

  He nibbles the skin near my waist and starts kissing his way up to my face again. “I’m always hungry. Hungry for you.”

  I sigh happily. “God, I missed you so bad.”

  He props his head up with one hand and stares down at me, his dark brown eyes filled with love. “I’d be lost without you, Jessica Rivera.”

  Chills spiral up my spine.

  “Let’s lose ourselves in Rome,” he says.

  “Now?”

  He rolls away, off the bed, and to his feet. He reaches for my hand and pulls me up.

  “That room service food is cold by now. We’ll go out, and we’ll find a cozy restaurant, where the locals eat. We’ll stop people on the street and ask where to find the best tiramisu in Rome. Doesn’t get more Italian than that.”

  I shiver, now that my skin has cooled from our lovemaking. My arms feel sticky from dried sweat.

  “Let me shower first,” I say.

  He winks at me. “Perfetto. Then put on that red dress I saw hanging in your closet.”

  I grin. The dress was supposed to be a surprise, but seeing him this excited only makes it better. I’m so happy he’s here, I don’t even care about what happened last night. Not even that creep Antonio can ruin this perfect evening.

  I slip into the gleaming white bathroom and get the shower running.

  As I step under the water, I think about the video I saw of Dylan, and the story about him taking three girls home. What if that really happened?

  I reach for the fragrant hotel shampoo and wash my hair.

  No, I need to let go of these insecurities. Dylan flew here for the weekend, knowing he had to fly right back home again to finish recording his album. He wants me. He loves me. We’re together, in Rome.

  I will ask him about the nude selfie, though. That’s been driving me crazy. As soon as I work up the courage, I’m definitely going to get to the bottom of that tonight.

  Chapter Seven

  We leave the hotel room, hand in hand. We start kissing in the elevator. I can’t get enough of his lips on mine. I’ve missed his kisses so much.

  He pushes me away, laughing. “Don’t make me stop this elevator,” he threatens.

  “That would be really bad if we couldn’t even leave the hotel, right?”

  He gives me a wolfish look. “You’re the bad one.”

  The elevator doors open.

  We walk out into the lobby together. It’s late evening, so the lobby isn’t very busy. I can hear the hotel staff whispering and getting excited. There are six people crowded behind the check-in desk, all grinning at us.

  Dylan turns to me. “Do you mind if I sign some autographs?”

  My stomach grumbles. I’m hungry, but I say, “Of course not.”

  I reach for my big purse, and the glossy photos of Dylan I always carry around. It takes a second for me to remember the purse was stolen, and I don’t have the photos.

  Dylan doesn’t notice, though. He’s already over at the hotel desk, shaking hands and asking everyone their names.

  I stand off to the side and patiently wait as he poses for pictures with the hotel staff, one at a time.

  When he’s done, he jogs over to meet me by the door.

  “Life is slow in the fast lane,” he says.

  “So you keep telling me.”

  He pushes open the door to the street. The sounds of Rome greet us. I reach for my purse, to make sure it’s safe, then laugh to myself. I don’t even have my purse with me. It’s up in the room. The only reason I would carry it would be to have my phone handy, in case Dylan calls. Now he’s here.

  We walk out and Dylan steers me to the right. “Why are you laughing?” he asks. “Is this the wrong direction? You’ve been here for weeks. You should be the tour guide for me by now.”

  “I’m just laughing because I can’t believe you’re here.”

  He drapes his arm around my shoulders protectively, pulling me close to him as we walk by other people. “I’m here,” he says, chuckling. “Not that these Italian guys even see me. Look at that one. I think his tongue is actually hanging out.”

  I look up at the young Italian men we’re passing. They’re looking my way, but they’re not being rude about it. I’ve gotten used to the way they are.

  “Are you jealous?” I tease.

  “Only if you want me to be.” He looks left and right as we reach the cross-street, then nods for us to turn right.

  After a few minutes of walking, he says, “They don’t recognize me here, do they? The hotel staff knew who I was because I had to tell them, to break into your room, but I’m just a regular guy here.”

  “It’s true. You could almost be Italian.”

  He gives me a devilish grin. “When we get back to the hotel tonight, let’s pretend I’m Italian.”

  I wrinkle my nose. “Yuck.” When he said that, I thought of the creepy guy who tried to kiss me at the club.

  He stops walking and looks around. “Jess, I think we’re lost.”

  “We’re three blocks from the hotel, and that’s a good place for dinner, right there.” I point to a restaurant that’s still open, but not very busy.

  “Good food?” he asks. “You ate there without me?”

  “I went with Chet once or twice.”

  He nods, but doesn’t say anything. We cross the street, have a look at the menu that’s posted on the wall outside the door, then go in.

  Because this restaurant is near the hotel, they have English on the menus, but I can tell that locals eat here, too. It’s not a tourist trap, but it’s not exactly fancy, either. There are bug-catching sticky strips hanging from the ceiling. Dylan keeps looking up at them.

  “We can go somewhere else,” I tell him.

  He gives me a quick smile. “No, this is fine.” The smile disappears, and he frowns at his open menu. “I guess you’re spending a lot of time with your boss. Working together all day. Staying in the same hotel. Having dinner together.”

  Before I can respond to that, the waitress comes.

  Dylan orders for both of us. He gets a bottle of wine and the restaurant’s special tasting menu for two. He asks about th
e dessert.

  “I am sorry,” the waitress says. “It’s late now, and we are sold out of the tiramisu.” She goes on to tell us about the special gelato they have, and other cakes, but I can tell Dylan is disappointed.

  After she leaves, he sips his water and stares up at the sticky bug strips hanging from the ceiling fans.

  “Does Chet like this place?” he asks.

  I frown at his tone. “It’s three blocks from the hotel. I told you we could go somewhere else.”

  We sit there in uneasy silence for a few minutes, then the waitress returns with our wine. She asks where we’re from and makes polite small talk as she fills our glasses. To her, we’re just typical American tourists.

  This isn’t enough for Dylan, though. He turns on his brilliant charm, looks her in the eyes, and says, “You don’t recognize me, do you? I’m a singer. If you were American, you’d know who I am. You’d have all my songs.”

  She laughs. “Maybe.” She turns to me. “Is this true?”

  “Yes. My boyfriend is very famous.” My left hand rises, almost with a mind of its own. I flash my engagement ring at her. “Actually, he’s my fiancé. We’re getting married.”

  She catches my hand in hers and strokes my fingers. She turns her body, angling away from Dylan and toward me. As she gazes into my eyes, I realize why she wasn’t fawning over him. It’s me she prefers.

  “He is a lucky man,” she says. “Very lucky.”

  My body starts to tingle, the longer she holds my hand. I’m speechless. The young Italian men are all so gorgeous and charming, but some of the Italian women really take my breath away. They exude so much confidence and sensuality.

  The waitress gives me a playful wink, then lets my hand go by slowly slipping my fingers over hers. She turns and walks away, her hips swaying.

  I can feel my cheeks flushing with embarrassment. I giggle and reach for my glass of wine.

  “Interesting,” Dylan says. “Chet’s not the one I have to worry about, is he?”

  I look up, worried about what kind of mood Dylan’s in. He’s smiling now, which puts me at ease.

  “Don’t be silly,” I tell him. “I come here for dinner because the food is good. Not because I want to kiss that waitress.”