smell your perfume, see the curve of your neck and can’t think of anything but ripping your clothes off and fucking you.”
He stopped talking and put action to words. She thought he’d wrung every bit of pleasure out of her earlier, but she was wrong. He reached down to play with her clit as she lifted herself up and down on him.
Oh, he felt so good, inside and under her. She closed her eyes to revel in the sensations he was building in her but he called her name.
“Open your beautiful blue eyes. I want you to look at me when you come.”
She gulped. That seemed even more intimate than some of their previous activities.
He stopped caressing her. “I mean it. No dress-up or games. Just Giorgio and Renata, together.”
She bit her lip and nodded.
“Good.” He sat forward and wrapped his arm around her waist. “Move on me, lovely Renata.”
She did, her breasts brushing his face until he captured one in his mouth, his fingers toying with her clit. The delicious pressure built again. Her back bowed and he let go of her nipple.
“Look at me!”
She forced her eyes open to see his fierce expression. He was barely restraining himself and that made her even hotter. She wiggled on top of him and he pinched her nipple, rolling it under his thumb.
She clamped down on his erection and he let go with a stream of very slangy Italian telling her exactly how she was tormenting his cock and how his balls were about to explode. He also threatened to spank her again and she involuntarily spasmed around him.
He began to laugh. “Eh, so you understood that.” He gave her a little slap on the ass and it was all over for her. She crumbled to pieces. Her climax overtook her.
He dug his fingers into her hair. “Look at me,” he gritted.
She did, gasping, sweating, captured by his cock and his hands even more effectively than when she’d been tied to the bedpost.
His nostrils flared at her capitulation. “Oh, yes, that’s it.” He heaved a sigh and she saw how he surrendered to his own orgasm as easy as stepping off a diving board into a pool.
He clenched his jaw and pounded into her, his groans growing louder and louder as his seed jetted from him. His gaze was locked onto hers like a laser and she instinctively knew this was a part of him he had never shared with another woman before.
She wrapped her arms around him and rocked back and forth in time with his movements until he slowed. Before he could say anything, she pushed forward and caught his mouth with hers. Their lips clung for what seemed like forever and then he broke the kiss, resting his forehead on hers as they caught their breath.
“Oh, Renata mia, just when I think this cannot get any better, you prove me wrong.”
“I thought you’d like that nightgown.”
They both looked at the remnants of that poor abused garment, bunched around her waist and covering his like a see-through loincloth.
“I will have to buy you many more.”
“For a modern monarch, you sure do have archaic tastes in the bedroom,” she teased him. “Tying up an innocent maiden, forcing her to satisfy your debauched lusts and beating her when she was too frightened…”
He eased out of her. “You call that a beating?” He stood and scooped her into his arms. “I think milady doth protest too much, as the playwright said. I think she just protests because she liked it too much.”
Renata flushed and hid her face in his shoulder. He was right. She never would have even tolerated a spanking from any other man, much less enjoyed it so much. He laughed uproariously and set her on the fresh, cool sheets of the bed.
“Giorgio, I’m a mess!”
“A lovely, well-satisfied mess.” He tugged the nightgown down her legs and tossed it on the chair. “Your monarch needs un reposo and will be very cross if his favorite maiden doesn’t join him for some sleep. I plan to stay up for a late dinner and an even later bedtime.” He crawled into bed next to her. “You Americans should try an afternoon rest. It does wonders for your disposition.” He pulled her back to him so they were spooning and draped an arm over her waist.
“You do wonders for my disposition,” she admitted. “You may not believe this, but some people think I can be difficult.”
“No!” He spoke the denial with such shocked sincerity that she looked over her shoulder in suspicion. He quickly hid his expression by kissing the nape of her neck.
“Hmmph.” She muffled a snicker, which turned into a yawn. “As punishment for your sarcasm, you can take me out to the nicest restaurant you can find.”
“Only the best for you, principessa mia.” He yawned, as well, but Renata’s eyes flew open. He’d just called her his princess. From a regular guy, that wouldn’t mean a thing, but from him?
She slowly shifted to face him but he was fast asleep already. A slip of the tongue, no doubt. It wasn’t as if he were offering her the job. She sighed. That was how things got sticky—the girl started imagining herself in a hip, yet lovely wedding gown while she doodled I HEART PRNZ GIORGIO 4EVR or PRNCS RENATA RULEZ. Literally.
Well, no more of that. Despite how hot, sexy, sweet, kind and wonderful Giorgio was, Renata would not fall in love with the man. Giorgio might like her adventurous Brooklyn personality for a fun vacation, but not permanently. No, when he finally settled down, he would want a sweet, delicate woman who could bake him lemon cookies, wave at crowds and never think of wearing a diamond in her nose or embroidering tiny skulls on a wedding dress. Renata wasn’t princess material. Her heart was still packed away in acid-free tissue and a big fancy box, just like one of her vintage wedding gowns.
LATER THAT EVENING, Renata poked her head out of the bedroom. She could hear men’s voices in the living room. Many men. She followed the voices.
She clutched her robe around her when she saw how many guys there actually were. Giorgio glanced up at her from an intense photo conversation and lifted his finger in a “wait a minute” gesture.
She turned to the beefy guy standing next to her. “What’s going on?” she whispered.
He turned his head to stare at her with blank brown eyes but didn’t answer. Maybe he didn’t speak English, or maybe he wasn’t paid to speak.
She retreated into the bedroom and dressed hastily in a button-up white blouse and denim capri pants, slipping her feet into plain white sneakers. The sexpot look was inappropriate for a serious situation.
She returned to the living room and sat in the floral armchair. Giorgio continued speaking in rapid Italian on the phone, gesturing emphatically. She understood that he was asking about the safety of his sister and grandmother and started to get alarmed.
For once, though, she kept quiet, realizing that she would only at best be a distraction and at worst a nuisance if she pestered him in the middle of his conversation.
He paused to bark orders at Paolo, who pulled out his own phone and made
