Shade

by Shayne Ford

  I start to learn him and see him for who he is, and the more I do, the more I lose myself in him.

  We stop again, this time on a terrace filled with flowers, the small place overlooking the water. We witness a spectacular sunset, painted with a medley of beautiful colors–– orange, purple, and pink flamingo.

  As the breezy evening sets in, and animated people fill the narrow streets of this town, we head back.

  Minutes later, he pulls his bike in front of a store.

  “It’ll take a second. I need to buy cigarettes,” he says.

  He parks the motorcycle next to the sidewalk and rushes inside.

  Still straddling the bike, I take my helmet off and flick my head a few times, my hair cascading over my shoulders.

  Wolf whistling comes from a nearby bench where three men take me in. They’re young, dark-haired, and well-built.

  One of them strides closer and starts talking in Italian, gesturing widely, and grinning. He brings his fingers to his mouth and smacks his lips.

  I don’t speak Italian, but I’m pretty sure I know what that means.

  He spins around, dancing comically, and working so hard to earn a smile from me while he keeps pleading with me. He wears jeans and a snug fit tank top, his shoulders inked. I look away. He shifts his position and pops in front of me, trying to catch my gaze again.

  Anxious, I glance at the store when the door slides open and Shade strides out, a cigarette tucked between his lips.

  His eyes narrow as he quickly takes us in.

  Within a second, he leaps forward and lunges at the man. Grabbing the back of his neck, he pulls him away.

  Startled, the man bolts to the side and fights his grip. Surprisingly, he glances at Shade, still smiling, no trace of anger on his face.

  “Che cazzo vuoi?” the man says, grinning playfully.

  “Vaffanculo, testa di cazzo!” Shade barks after he pulls the cigarette out of his mouth.

  He doesn’t show genuine anger either.

  The Italian holds his hands in the air, his palms up.

  “Ma è una bella puttana,” he says, still smirking.

  Shade curls his lips into a grin.

  “Lei è la mia bella puttana,” he says, gesturing to the man to get lost.

  With that, the dark-haired man backs away. Looking up at the sky, he shakes his head dramatically.

  Shade nears me, and before I can ask or say anything, he cuffs the back of my neck, pulls me to him, and takes my mouth, in a deep, hot kiss, that makes my core tingle and my body shudder with pleasure.

  I curl my arms around his neck, and kiss him back, getting drunk on him quickly.

  The men witness our kiss, more whistling and catcalling coming our way. Unfazed, he tears his lips away from me and smiles.

  “What did he say?” I ask.

  “He said that you’re a beautiful harlot.”

  “And what did you say?”

  He leans closer to my ear.

  “I said that… You are my beautiful harlot, and he needs to fuck off.”

  He slides his lips over mine again, and instantly, our mouths connect. His hands run to my hips.

  “We need to go home before I fuck you in the street,” he breathes against my lips, a sense of urgency flashing through his voice.

  I couldn’t agree more.

  14

  SHADE

  Once you taste freedom and real love, you can’t go back.

  Once you break free and feel that power running through your blood, you get hooked, and if you lose it, everything feels like death.

  I’ve longed for love and freedom all my life.

  All those years I wasted under the regimen of other people, men, and women who decided how I needed to spend every minute of every hour of every fucking day of my life.

  Every waking hour was filled with nonsense, so I couldn’t feel, play and love, follow my natural instincts or let my heart feel alive.

  They got us young.

  Fresh minds, easy to mold, not knowing anything else, eager to learn and comply. They never left us alone. We were always under observation, and everything that we did had to be done together, the collective validating the insanity.

  But no prison is perfect.

  In their brilliance, the wards have forgotten the power of words. The words of love and wisdom. Ancient, timeless words opening the doors to a different world.

  They let them flow freely, having no clue that they held so much power over us. Over my mind.

  They were in the books I buried myself in. Those words made me see, but what I saw broke my heart. That’s why I always longed for love… and freedom.

  Voices ring out closer making me crack an eye open.

  Tara’s voice caresses the few Italian words she’s learned so far. She quietly slips into the room while I peek at her through my lashes.

  She wears a sheer cotton tunic, embroidered at the shoulders and cinched at the waist, the scooped neckline laced up with tassels adorned strings.

  The dress stops mid-thigh revealing her sculpted, bronzed legs. Roman style sandals with crisscrossed straps grace her delicate ankles.

  Her hair tumbles down her back, rich and shining like molten chocolate, standing out against her white dress.

  Her tan sets off her turquoise eyes.

  “Shade? Baby?” she whispers.

  Her eyes shine brightly, her face beaming with a smile. She’s morphed into a magnificent, wild and free woman, her beauty and love matched only by her vibrant spirit.

  She edges to the platform bed and slides her knees onto the mattress before she hovers over me. I close my eyes just as her hand comes to my face.

  Her skin is soft and delicate, smelling like flowers.

  “Baby? Can you please wake up?”

  I don’t move.

  She runs her fingers over my face, my lips, and my hair, like a little girl who learns the world through her touch.

  I wait.

  She bends over me and comes closer to my face, her breath tickling my lips. I almost smile.

  She cups the side of my face as she leans in, pressing her cheek against mine.

  “Come... sleepy head, wake up for me.”

  Softly, she plants kisses on my face, my eyelids, and then my lips.

  “Shade?” A grin lines her voice. “I know you’re awake,” she says before she kisses me again. “Okay...” she mutters, playfully. “If you don’t want to do it on your own, I’ll wake you up then.”

  She’s quiet for a moment before the sheet starts sliding off my naked body. Cold air licks my skin.

  Her kisses start descending, tracing my chest, and my abs before her lips slide to my crown and close around my girth.

  I stifle my reaction, although I enjoy her touch so much. She rolls her lips and tongue around my shaft.

  I start to groan as if I just woke up.

  “Shade?”

  “Hmm?” I murmur, opening my eyes.

  Her face lights up with a smile, her mouth full with me.

  “You taste good,” she says, grinning around my hardness.

  I push up to my elbows, my eyes narrowed and a smile clinging to my lips as I take her in–– her cushion-like lips pressed against my hard flesh, her cheeks hollow as she sucks me.

  “And you suck some mean cock...” I say before I bite my lip. “Vera puttana...” I mutter, threading my fingers through her hair as she starts to bob her head. “You know you’d need to change that dress after we’re done with this,” I say, cocking an eyebrow.

  She looks up at me again, her eyes dancing with a smile, as she talks around my cock.

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s gonna be a mess,” I say plopping back onto the pillow as she pulls me deeper into her mouth.

  “You cooked all this?” I say incredulously, my eyes scanning the table.

  “Yes,” she says, her eyes brighter than the sea.

  She twirls around, clad in a short, halter style, blue dress with flowing b
ottom and fitted top. Silver bracelets cuff her arms.

  Her hand goes over the plates.

  “Insalata caprese, Cioppino, Pasta con Funghi and my first ever Tiramisu.”

  “When did you do all that?”

  “While you were sleeping.”

  “What time is it?”

  “It’s two o’clock. You’re not exactly an early bird...” she says, chuckling.

  I smile.

  “Yeah... I’m afraid I’m not. I never was. They forced us to wake up early when we were kids. I hated it with a passion.”

  Her eyes darken for a moment, making me quickly push the memory away.

  “So tell me about it,” I say, eyeing the food.

  Her eyes light up again.

  “Well, I went shopping at the local market. I bought fresh seafood for Cioppino,” she says, her tongue tying up in a knot.

  “You did?”

  I grin, amused by her accent.

  “Mmm-hmm. Then I cooked. Alberto helped a bit, giving me a few suggestions, but I did it all alone.”

  “You’ve cooked Italian before?’

  “Nope.”

  “You like it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then, I trust it’s good.”

  She walks to the side table for plates.

  “I told the staff to take a break, so we can eat alone,” she says.

  I grip her shoulders, prompting her to turn to me. She searches my eyes for a few moments before I lean in and kiss her tenderly.

  “Thank you, baby.” She freezes for a moment. “Now, you go and take a seat. I’ll set the table and serve you.”

  She looks at me as if I’ve grown a second head. For a moment, I fear that she swallowed her tongue.

  “Are you sure?” she finally murmurs.

  “Yeah... I’m pretty sure,” I say.

  She lowers herself in the chair, watching me attentively as I smoothly set the plates, the flatware, and the napkins on the table.

  I place slices of fresh mozzarella and plump red tomatoes, drizzled with olive oil and garnished with fragrant basil on the appetizer plates.

  “Bread?”

  “Yes,” she says, still a little puzzled. “Where did you learn to do that?”

  “School,” I say, smiling. “I’ve never done it for pleasure, though–– not until now, because I’ve never done it willingly.”

  It’s nothing really, but her eyes get misty, and my heart fills with love for her.

  We eat and talk for a good hour, and I see how perfect she is. She’s funny and witty, strong and delicate. She’s grounded like the mountain and deep as the sea.

  She beams with life.

  Later in the afternoon, I watch her furtively as she settles into the reading room with a book in her hand, her silhouette ethereal against the soft sunlight and the sea tossing waves in the background.

  She reads and then she writes something on a piece of paper, a smile creasing her lips.

  A couple of hours later, she takes the stairs and slips out of the villa.

  I walk on the terrace and glance around, looking for her. The sun melts into the bed of the horizon, about to set. Shielding my eyes from the light, I tip my gaze down to the shore.

  I spot her on the beach, lying on the sand in a secluded cove, crystalline shallow water rolling only feet away from her.

  I stroll down the stairs, follow the path drawn in the fine sand by her footsteps and saunter to her. The sunset casts a glow over her face and her body.

  Quietly, I stop next to her and drink her in.

  Her skin shimmers, sprinkled with specks of sand. A small triangle of turquoise fabric, trimmed with gold, covers her crotch. My gaze slides over her bare chest, my eyes glued to the puckered buds.

  Hot blood pumps between my legs.

  Eyes closed, hair splayed over the towel, her body reminding me of a perfect hourglass, she looks like a mythical creature of the sea. Her tanned chest rises and falls rhythmically, her perky breasts swept by the wind.

  I slide beside her, and prop on my elbow, my gaze coasting over her. She smiles, yet doesn’t open her eyes. Tenderly, I brush her face with my lips and murmur.

  “I wish I could be the wind, so I can kiss your face… and breathe all over your skin.”

  My fingers trail her collarbone, the smooth valley between her breasts and then her stomach. Her lips curl into a loving smile, her eyes half open, a pair of sapphires shimmering between her lashes.

  “That’s beautiful,” she whispers, emotion breaking through her voice.

  She pulls up to her elbows and rolls to her side, her body lean and curved at the same time, her hair waving, smelling like the sea.

  I roll my fingers down her, caressing the swell of her breasts and following the curve of her hip. My knuckles run across her belly, my fingers snagging the strings of her bikini.

  I raise my eyes.

  She cups my face and leans to me, tenderly and wrapped in her beauty, her lips seducing mine, her sun-kissed skin touching mine.

  She breathes into me the love that I so much need while I teach her how to be free. Her mouth is warm and tastes like summer, her touch arousing. Her hand slides into my hair before it trails down my back.

  “Make love to me, Shade” she murmurs against my lips, while I lay her on her back.

  I tug at the strings of her bikini and glide them off her thighs before I kick my swimming shorts off. Her hand slips at the back of my neck as my mouth claims hers, pulling her into a deep kiss.

  She spreads her legs under me, and I smoothly, ease myself inside her.

  Her head tilts back, her eyes half closed, moans rolling off her lips as I slowly thrust.

  We quickly slip into a trance. I’m drunk on the power that she gave me over her, and also humbled by the sway she has over me.

  Her lips move silently, her nostrils flaring. She opens her eyes and looks at me. Spellbound.

  We make love on this empty shore, knowing full well that we’re not the first and not the last. Our bodies move, entangled, our hearts relishing the moment.

  I roll my hips harder as her grip tightens on my neck. Her nose creases with pleasure, her eyes becoming unfocused as her body shatters under me.

  “What does it say?”

  Her fingers trace the words inked on my skin.

  Lying in bed, we gaze at the sea from our bedroom, our naked bodies caressed by the night breeze.

  The air smells like flowers.

  Lit candles illuminate the room, the terrace and the stairs leading to the beach.

  She shifts in my arms and locks my eyes.

  “The words, and the cage. What do they mean?”

  ‘From all the offspring

  Of the Earth and Heaven

  Love is most precious.’

  “Sappho,” I add, flicking an unlit cigarette between my fingers.

  Her eyes narrow with a smile.

  “Have you broken free?” she asks, her fingers splaying over the tattoo on my torso.

  My lips curl into a soft grin.

  “I’m barely getting a taste of freedom.”

  She lays her head on my chest while I play with the cigarette a few more moments before I slip it between my lips.

  “What happened to you, Shade?” she asks softly without looking at me.

  I roll the flame over the tip of my cigarette, take a drag, and blow the smoke out, smiling at a remote memory.

  “What happens to many, I guess. I was taught slavery, servitude, and guilt before I learned love, freedom, and life. They inoculated me with this idea that my life served only a purpose. To be useful to anyone else other than me. My teachers, my family... Even the business. See, it was all planned. It always is. Most people can’t see it, but I did, and it felt like a curse.”

  I take a long drag this time before I slowly exhale the smoke.

  “My mom put me in this school when I was a little boy. One hundred percent boarding, they call it. I spent almost all my life in that fucking p
lace, bound by their rules, their schedules, and their tasks, molded by strangers whom she’d granted full access to my mind. For my own good, you know.”

  She turns her eyes to me.

  “I grew up amongst these strangers. They controlled everything. My time, my body and my mind. I could only sleep and eat when they allowed me to. I had to respect the dress code, blazer, and tie. I ended up hating the fucking ties. I was locked up with hundreds of kids, and we lived like units, not unique, alive, vibrant, human beings.”

  My voice thickens with emotion.

  “That’s what happened. A cage is a cage. Whether you have money or not. People make the cages, not the money.”

  I run my hand over her hair and kiss the top of her head. Her eyes filled with sadness.

  “Why did she put you there?”

  A pain spears through my heart. A deeply buried ache, that now comes to life, stronger than ever, clawing at my chest.

  My fingers start to shake as my lips quiver.

  “This is a story for another time,” I say, with a strained voice.

  “She doesn’t want me to be with you. You know that. Do you think that she will stop?”

  “No, I don’t think so. But it’s not up to her. I’m not gonna roll over for her. Or anyone else. Not now. Not ever.”

  The wind picks up, putting out some of the candlelights as silent bolts of lightning illuminate the sky in the distance.

  “A storm is coming,” I say, my mind drifting away.

  It’s our last night in Italy.

  To be continued.

  Thank you for reading SHADE, (GOLDEN HEIR Series #1) A Billionaire Romance

  The rest of the series is available in store.

  The story continues with LOVING SHADE (Golden Heir 2)

  LOVING SHADE (Golden Heir 2)

  Also, Shade and Tara make a few appearances in the SHADES OF LOVE Series which is A Golden Heir Spin off that features a different lead man, but someone that you know.

  Shades of Love is a romance with dark tones.

  Also by Shayne Ford

  NIGHT OF THE DIAMONDS SERIES

  A Dark Billionaire Romance

  REMI (Night of the Diamonds Series #1)

  DARK REMI (Night of the Diamonds Series #2)