by Noelle Mack
“I like the way you go for what you want,” he said. “Very American.”
“Is that bad?”
“No. I said I liked it, didn’t I? Our first time, we will do things your way.”
She stopped fondling him. “And then you can call the shots.”
“Yes. The best of both worlds. Ah, you are beautiful.” He eased down to sit on the edge of his bed and pulled her to him. He steadied her with one hand on her hip, slipping two fingers into the fine curls between her legs, just touching the soft, slick flesh.
Sarah wanted to push her pussy into his face, clutching his black hair while he pleasured her orally, using his tongue in every possible way. Just looking at Marco, his strong legs spread apart and a huge erection straining the front seam of those worn jeans, was revving her to the max.
He turned her around so her ass was in his face and gently made her bend over from the waist.
Oh yeah. She reached around and spread her behind with both hands, stepping her feet apart so that her tight, swollen pussy opened wide with a juicy little noise.
Tongue fucking. Nothing better. She waited, knowing he was feasting his eyes on the hot sight of a bare-assed woman who wanted to get done, right now.
When he tasted her labia with the tip of his tongue, she murmured her appreciation, then moaned when he thrust his tongue all the way inside.
He grabbed her hips and push-pulled her back and forth, giving her every inch of what she craved. A big tongue in deep was nearly as good as a big cock, and the extra movement it gave inside her pussy made her crazy with lust—and completely uninhibited.
Marco seemed to want her to bang her behind right into his face, and she did, going with each push-pull of his strong hands. He made her stop, though, resting his cheek on her bare ass while he reached forward to fondle her breasts, tugging at the nipples and slapping them lightly so they bounced in his hands.
Sarah wriggled and spread her ass cheeks even wider. “Mmm. Do what you were doing before.” She knew that his arms were long enough to keep right on playing with her breasts if he kept his tongue in her pussy. He got to do the work, she got to enjoy it. Later on, they could switch.
“Coming up.” Slowly and lovingly he pushed his tongue in and out of her pussy, reaching around again and rolling her nipples between hard fingertips.
Ahh. Ahhhhhhhhh. That was so, so good. If not for him being in back of her and unable to get at her clit with his mouth, she would have come, screaming with intense pleasure.
She just stood there, taking everything he wanted to give her, forgetting that he still hadn’t undressed all the way.
He lifted his head, depriving her of the tender stimulation of his tongue, and moved his hands back to brush her hands off her ass. With a sigh, she straightened slightly, and her buttocks relaxed, soft and no longer spread.
Marco took the opportunity to spank her ass vigorously, holding her in place when she cried out. But she loved it. How had he known that?
He made her stand up, caressing her well-spanked behind with the lightest possible strokes. The feeling was electric, stimulating her heated flesh and making her buttocks tremble.
The inside of her thighs was wet and dripping. Marco turned her around and dried her there with a small, soft towel.
Tough and tender. The combination was incredibly sensual. He stood up and put her hands on her tits. “Ah, such beautiful breasts. I want to see you pull on your nipples. Do it for me, Sarah.”
She obeyed, handling herself expertly, looking at her hands moving over her own flesh, moving them lower as wantonly as if she were masturbating all alone. He was getting to her, able to read her secret dreams. She liked to be told what to do sometimes. And getting a spanking from an alpha male who knew when you wanted one…oooh.
She took her nipples into her fingertips, rolling them as he had done, then pressing her fingernails into the hard pink flesh. He just stared at what she was doing, then reached between her labia, finding her clit and holding onto it.
Sarah suddenly wanted to come but his grip on that little part of her was too tight. He released her clit and a surge of sexual feeling flooded her. She let go of her nipples and arched her body just as Marco kneeled in front of her. With a sensuality that bordered on woman-worship, he took her clitoris into his mouth and sucked tenderly, pulsing his tongue when he felt her pulsing, touching the tip to her clit tip while he kept the whole thing between his lips.
She had never been orally pleasured with that degree of skill, and she couldn’t hold out against it. Moaning, she sank her fingers into his mane of black hair…pushing into his mouth…begging to come…and then it happened. She melted with intense pleasure, wave after wave of it coursing through her body. He finally let her go when he sensed her orgasm ebb away and she released him.
She swayed, feeling weak, and he caught her, sweeping her up in his arms for a passionate kiss. She could taste her pussy on his lips and it excited her even more.
He settled her on the bed, sitting up with her hands in her lap, watching him almost demurely. Marco undid the top button of his jeans, sliding the steel shank through the buttonhole with one finger until it popped through and the waistband opened. The head of his cock throbbed, unconfined.
She saw a small, glistening area on his taut belly muscles, where their sex play had forced out a burst of semen. He must have experienced the beginning of an orgasm but stopped it somehow.
A man of iron willpower—and iron-hard flesh. But his self-control was just about shot by now, she was sure of it. She watched him ease the rest of the steel buttons through the worn holes that barely held them. She was still too weak with pleasure to help him.
Obviously, he didn’t want her to. What he wanted was to see her eyes when he pushed his jeans partway down his thighs and the whole shaft jutted out. No underwear. If she’d known that his balls and cock had been rubbing against the soft denim, she would have been reached down inside his jeans sooner. No waiting. Manhood to the max, ready to go.
Jeans down, cock out, Marco stood there, looking down at her. He was so sexy. Unbelievably sexy. She parted her lips without even thinking about it.
“You must know what I want.” His voice was raw and low. He got hold of his cock and put the head to her mouth. She favored it with a tiny kiss and little licks, loving it up and using the lightest tongue touches on the sensitive cleft in the head. Marco groaned. “Ah. Show me how well you can please me, Sarah. Take me as far as you can.”
She reached up, clasping and stroking his hot flesh. Her touch excited him, but he held steady, smoothing her hair as she took his big penis into her mouth. He gasped with pleasure as she went to work.
Marco was made for fellatio, good and thick but not so long that he made her gag. His solid shaft completely filled her mouth and she tightened her lips around it halfway down, using her tongue to massage the front of it, sucking strongly at the same time, and teasing his big balls with her fingers.
She stopped doing that for a moment but kept on sucking as she pushed his jeans down to his knees. Now she had him where he’d had her—unable to move from the spot without falling.
On fire with sexual sensation, Marco began a back-and-forth motion of his pelvis that helped her out. All she had to do now was suck and suck hard. She reached around to stimulate his smooth, hard buttocks, running her fingers over the hollows in the sides, then spreading her hands out over his cheeks to encourage him to thrust with abandon when he began to come.
And he was only seconds away. She buried her nose in the soft black curls of his pubic hair, feeling his balls tighten uncontrollably and rise high into the base of his cock as she sucked. She did it harder and he shouted with lust. Hot jets of semen spurted from deep inside his body, over her massaging tongue.
Marco bucked and writhed, holding her head as he cried out again and again with pleasure. She swallowed quickly, glad that he’d come a little already or she couldn’t have handled it. The man was a very healthy animal.
He tried to take a step and staggered before he remembered that he hadn’t even taken his jeans off all the way. She steadied him, using one hand to get them off one of his big, strong legs and letting him kick the other leg free. Marco collapsed on the bed and pulled her to him, laughing weakly at himself.
“You—you made me so hot. But I thank you for that. And for keeping me from falling.” He dragged the top sheet to his face, wiping away the sweat, then tossed it to one side of the bed.
“You’re welcome.” She nestled against his chest, loving the possessive way his arm curled around her. He rocked her a little, getting tangled in the sheet on the bottom. Then he kissed the top of her head and dozed off. She eased out of his embrace so she could look at him, and he rolled from his side to his back.
He was entitled to a rest. That had been raw in a great way—for her, first sex was fierce. She shocked herself sometimes by how much she wanted it. But finding a guy who understood her intensity wasn’t easy. No one had ever taken her that high with that degree of skill until Marco.
He was an unusual man. Lying back the way he was, eyes closed and one muscular arm flung over his head, revealing a patch of fine black hair in his armpit, he was a study in male sensuality. Sarah felt turned on all over again.
He moved again and got tangled in the loose sheet, which draped over his shoulder and side like a great big wing. Her fallen angel.
She reached down for the black-and-white striped blanket and covered them both. Sarah was looking forward to more sex and full penetration by that glorious rod, but later. They had time…
They both fell into a restless sleep. She dreamed of the faces she had seen in the paintings at the Accademia, some lovely, some cruel. The richness of Venice glowed in her imagination, even in sleep. As did its darker side.
Both were oppressive. She woke up, gasping a little, but settled down when Marco pulled her into his arms. Safe. Warm. Held.
She slept again.
They didn’t wake up until late afternoon. She was ravenously hungry and poked him awake. Marco went into the kitchen and returned fifteen minutes later with a bottle of chilled prosecco, two wineglasses, and sweet treats on a tray. There was a packet of something like ladyfingers, next to a widemouthed jar of hazelnut spread with a spoon stuck in it. Pears, cored and quartered. Dark chocolate. A do-it-yourself dessert buffet.
Marco put the tray between them and fed her tenderly until she waved away his hand and drank down a whole glass of prosecco. The sparkle was refreshing, and she was incredibly thirsty. She poured him a glass and refilled her own.
It was kind of funny to get a little drunk after the crazy lovin’ and not before, but what the hell. She felt deliriously happy just being with him—but she wasn’t quite sure this was real.
Of course, she hadn’t had a fling for a while. But to luck out and have sex like that in Venice, her dream city, with a rich, gorgeous guy who lived in a palazzo, who was also a really nice person she could actually talk to, was almost too good to be true. Marco was a major stud and intelligent and knew all about great art; the Goddess of Foreign Flings had come through.
She patted his cheek. The sexy stubble was coming back. Yummy yummy yum. Sarah bent over the tray to give him a prosecco-flavored kiss, tasting the pear slice he’d just eaten. Oral harmony—they knew how to make it happen. The kiss lasted a while.
“So what did you have planned for the rest of the day?” She set her wineglass down and ran her hands through her blond hair, knowing that it tended to stick out when she had been bouncing around in bed.
He chucked her under the chin. “Your hair looks fine. And the answer to the question about my plans is nothing. I am between projects and would like only to be with you. I wish we had more time, Sarah.”
His ardent gaze disconcerted her. Italian men were born lovers, and she adored all that purring and flirting and smoldering-looks stuff. But there was a difference between sex and love, she reminded herself.
She and Marco had had great sex. She would never forget how great. They were going to have more, as soon as she got her sugar fix. She pulled the spoon out of the hazelnut spread and licked it. “I did tell you I’m leaving in four days, right?”
“Yes.” He said nothing more, but he didn’t look too happy about it. “Ah, well. We can e-mail each other and you will come back.”
He seemed sure of that. Of course she wanted to, but it would take her at least a year to scrape up enough money for a bargain fare, and by then Marco would have forgotten all about her. Italy was full of hopeful American women, looking for l-o-v-e. The wilder ones often ended up in Venice, and a man like him could have whichever ones he wanted. In fact, he’d probably been bedding adventurous American chicks when she was only nine and still trying to figure why her Ken doll didn’t have a dick.
“But for now I am all yours,” he was saying. “When you leave, I’ll find something to do.”
Something to do. He’d said that when they’d met at Morelli’s Café, about the old book he’d come in for. And there it was, on his nightstand. “Oh right. You mean that.” She pointed to it with the spoon. “I was kind of curious about that book. Mind if I take a look?”
He hesitated, so she put down the spoon on a napkin on the tray. “I won’t get food on it, don’t worry.”
Turning it over in her hands, Sarah was surprised to see that the title on the cover glowed faintly, and looked closer. The gray light filtered through the fog and the Roman shades over the windows did something interesting to the letters on the old binding. She opened the book and flipped through the pages. Some, blank when the book was bound, had scribbled notes she couldn’t read. The stanza-like entries on the printed pages did look like poetry but not a word of it made sense.
Marco took it back from her, giving her a stern look. “I don’t want you to read it.”
“Excuse me. I can’t read it. So it’s not a problem.” His tone puzzled her. She was only fooling around. He’d said it was a book of spells and incantations—did he think she would cast one on him?
He closed it and put it back on the nightstand. “Shall we go out for dinner?”
“I’m not hungry, not after all that sweet stuff. Besides, it might rain again. We could stay right here and make love.” She tossed down a third glass of prosecco and flopped back into the pillows. “OK, three’s my limit. Ravish me.”
“Mmmm.” He put a hand on either side of her and helped himself to the kiss she offered. She twined her arms around his neck and looked up at him seductively.
“Ah, Sarah,” he said softly. “You are far too charming for my peace of mind. And I do want to make love to you again—”
She put a finger to his lips, wanting him to shut up and get started, and wondering for a fraction of a second if he was trying to distract her from the book. But she forgot all about it when he brushed her hand away.
“And again and again and again,” he said, rolling her over on her belly and slapping her ass. “May we never run out of agains.”
She buried her face in the pillows and giggled. He kissed one ass cheek and then the other, rolling her onto her back with rough tenderness, growling as he nipped at her ribs. She burst out laughing from the tickling feeling.
“Well, I am hungry even if you are not. We must go out for dinner. I am not sure if I have the stamina for another session.”
“Have some more wine,” she said, raising her head. “It’s cold outside. And damp.”
He picked up the bottle and finished it, forgoing the glass. She watched his throat move as he swallowed it all.
“Ahhh,” he said, permitting himself a hiccup. “There. That bottle was cold, though.” He rubbed his chilly hands on her bare belly, and she shrieked. “Cara mia, you are making a lot of noise. Should I stop?”
She pummeled him. “Yes!”
He stretched out next to her, running a hand through her hair. “Our passion will keep us warm, eh?”
Sarah snorted, but she secretly lov
ed sweet talk. Even more than she loved sweets. “I’ll take the blanket.” She snuggled under it, but he didn’t follow suit.
“Lazy one. How can I persuade you to go out? The weather is not so bad. Let’s have a look.”
He stretched out an arm and pulled the cord on the Roman shade that covered the window right next to the bed, rolling it up. Outside the fog had grown thicker and it seemed to press against the glass.
“Please, I’m not ready for reality,” Sarah begged. “Besides, the fog looks like it wants to get into the room. Roll down the shade.”
“You may be right about that,” Marco said, a teasing tone in his voice. “I summoned it up, you know. The lines I read to you in the café were an incantation to the spirits of the lagoon. The fog is their breath.”
“What spirits?” She looked at him narrowly.
“The Venetians of centuries past—all the citizens of La Serenissima. The doges, the courtesans, the musicians, the gondoliers, the noblemen and women, and the common folk. If you’ve lived in Venice, it is difficult to leave.”
Remembering fragments of her dream, she propped herself up on one elbow and gave him a puzzled look. “Huh. I don’t see them. Should I be scared?”
He kissed her nose. “Only if you believe in such things. Fear does indeed cast a spell. But I shouldn’t tease you.” He smiled fondly at her. “You’re too young.”
“Maybe I am.” She sat all the way up. “Does it sound too immature to say that I still don’t want to go out? I don’t.” She felt the beginnings of a melancholy mood, her usual post-coital state. Easily cured by sweets—which he had provided. Maybe she hadn’t eaten enough of the chocolate. Or maybe it was being in Venice. The city, when you got away from the hordes of tourists, cast a very real spell. The mercurial light, the changeable skies, and the floating look of the buildings on the water, especially the palazzos…and she had been lucky enough to hide away with a lover in one for an afternoon.
“Then we will stay in and be happy.” He turned his back on the window but not on her. “I will starve for you.” His tone was mournful.
