Chapter 9
I’d followed my passion and ended up in bed with a man who had lied to me, but who also inspired me to share my deepest secrets. I needed to remember that I had lied to him, too. I supposed we both had our reasons.
We crossed over canals and wove through the darkened streets of Venice. The stars were out, and the moon played hide-and-seek with us behind screens of clouds. I looked up at the moon, and I wished I could know for certain if there was a message in her beautiful madness.
I glanced up at Dylan’s profile as we walked, his nose, his jaw, his cheekbones were all worthy of their own iconic sculpture. He caught me staring at him and winked.
“I was just wondering, how awkward is it going to be when Roberto realizes there are two of you?” I said, feeling a need to fill the silence.
“He probably already knows.” Dylan shrugged.
Our footsteps echoed on the streets. I heard thumping music and the shouts of tourists on nearby streets. Fortunately, I knew which way to walk to find the quiet Venice that I loved most, even during Carnival.
“You know, my brother and I had so much fun doing things like this when we were younger,” Dylan said. “He says he doesn’t, but he did have fun. I would assume Roberto and your family know about our company and the different roles we have. I have not pretended to be James for years. Not since we were boys.”
He leaned in, purposefully bumping my shoulder. His hand brushed mine, a wave of electricity circuited through my body.
“Your hands are cold,” he said. “Take my hand, again.”
“They are?” I said, pretending to be surprised.
“Let me help,” he said. He reached over and took both my hands in his. He stopped and rubbed our hands together, generating heat that was a sweet relief to the cold. I remembered my merino shawl tonight, but had forgotten my gloves.
The way he touched me was smooth and effortless. “All better?”
I nodded and we continued walking. He did not let go of my hand, and I decided to just enjoy the feeling, and for once, not overthink it.
“I like this, by the way,” he said, nodding to my hand. “You are keeping me warm, as well.”
“Wouldn’t you prefer fine Italian leather gloves?”
“I think I’d prefer to wrap you around my whole body. Your hands have to do, for now,” he said. He raised my hand to his mouth and kissed my knuckles.
His lips felt firm and soft against my skin. His touch made me feel bold. “I have to say that I enjoyed wrapping my body around you, last night.”
“You mean, wrapping your beautiful body.”
“Yes,” I said. “I mean, thank you. My beautiful body, thank you.” My body also wonders if you can drop to your knees, put your head under my skirt, and kiss my pussy until I scream and shudder. I needed to get my body under control.
I loved hearing Dylan call my body “beautiful.” I wasn’t overly self-conscious, but I was aware that curvy women like me were sexy in ways that didn’t match the razor-thin women who walked catwalks during the Venice film festival.
Actresses and ingenues didn’t have my hips or the softness of my belly. I loved and hated my curves, sometimes. Last night, Dylan hadn’t paused at any of my round and soft places. In fact, he had made me feel perfect and adored.
Roberto never hesitated to point out the jiggle of my belly. He said he loved my curves, too, but he also joked about my roly-poly thighs.
“This feels different,” I said, quietly. “It feels a bit strange to be walking beside you again.”
“I think you are just as gorgeous tonight as you were yesterday. It feels right to be with you again.”
I smiled, charmed by him. “Last night, you were a name.”
“The wrong name.”
“And tonight, you are a real name. In fact, you have two names.”
“Yes, although I am just one man. There is the me who played music, and there is just me.”
“I told you last night the magic of Venice would give us the gift of love and sex.” I looked skyward. The moon was still playing hide-and-seek, slipping in and out of clouds like a coy lover.
“Last night was magic,” he said. “And right now, it is just lovely to be with a beautiful woman who knows my real name, both of them.” He stopped and looked at me. “I’m sorry I lied about my name.”
“Maybe you need to apologize again.” I stepped toward him, flirting and loving it.
“I’m sorry, clever Bella,” he said.
“Thank you, Dylan Street aka Strand.” I liked saying both his names. I liked the way they rolled off my tongue. “And I apologize to you for withholding information about my connection to the Mia Sorella.”
“Truth?” he said.
“Truth, always.”
“I’m glad you lied. If I had known who you were, we would never have had our one night.”
“Is that what this is? One night?”
“Perhaps we don’t make more rules,” he said. “Perhaps we say we have Venice.”
“How long are you here?” I said, finally asking the question that I knew would dictate the how much time I had with this man.
“A few nights,” he said. “Although I have been thinking of changing my plans.” He tugged at my hand. “Let’s walk. It’s too cold to stand still, even next to your smoking hot body.”
I laughed and squeezed his fingers. He was right. The heat between us was warmer than gloves on this cold night.
“So, are you taking me on another tour tonight, clever Bella?” he said.
“Yes.” My mind raced as I thought of all the places to explore. We could walk across the Rialto, take a gondola ride into the Grand Canal. Or we could go somewhere special that only a true Venetian would know.
“For our first stop, I am going to see if I can give you a private tour of the Lido Glass Factory.”
“A private tour? I like the sound of that.”
“You are lucky, I know people. Hold, please.” I stopped and got out my phone, texting Leo, my heart racing.
Glass Tour, now? I’m with him.
HIM? THE HIM?
Yes, him. You have no idea. Can you let us in?
Yes, brt
We walked past St. Mark’s Basilica. Behind us, the square was quiet with the usual painters and a handful of lovers wandering about. It reminded me of the moment we met, and the fact that the magic of Venice is never contained by one night.
We walked two blocks to the left, across a bridge, and across another that led directly to the enormous black lacquer barn doors of the Lido Glass Factory.
“We need to wait here,” I said, standing on the steps. “It won’t be long. I promise.”
“All right,” Dylan said, leaning against the rail of the bridge across from me. Below us, I could hear the ripple of the slow-moving water in the canal.
I stood next to Dylan, my arms crossed in the cold. “My friend, Leo, works here. If you have never been to one of these glass factories, you are in for a treat.”
“Is it better at night?”
“Everything is better at night,” I said. “Haven’t you noticed how beautiful Venice is without the people? She shines.”
“I love how you speak of her like a woman.”
“She is a queen,” I said. “My queen. I’ve always known this. She is a gilded lady that we must preserve and protect. She is surrounded by waters that want to swallow her up, and we have to keep her safe.”
“It’s beautiful how much you feel for your home.”
“You don’t?”
“No, my home has shifted so many times, I have never known what it feels like to have one place I call home.”
“That’s sad.”
“Or freeing,” he said. “We traveled the world, learned not to get too attached to place, and we bonded with each other.”
“You and James are bonded?” I said. My sister had died when I was so young, and the ache of that loss still surprised me at times.
“We have our differences, and deep down, my brother usually believes he is doing the right thing.”
“And is he?”
“No, not always,” he said.
We stood for a moment in silence as the clouds parted, a beam of moonlight bathing us in light.
“Oh, there she is.” I pointed at the moon.
“Yes, there she is,” Dylan said, looking at me.
I looked up into his deep brown eyes, the moonlight casting shadows across his face. He reached out and brushed a hair off my cheek. The touch of his hand on my face was electric. My legs tingled and a wave of heat rushed through my core, telling me I wanted this man again.
I wanted him to kiss me. My resolve to keep sex with Dylan to one night was folding like a house of cards or melting in a puddle between my legs.
And what would be so wrong about having sex with him again? We had already broken the rules of our one night in Venice. We knew each other’s names, we’d eaten dinner together, and we’d shared secrets.
What would happen if I just let myself fall into his arms under the magical moonlight of Venice one more time? What if I agreed to his proposal, and we gave each other the gift of sex in Venice one more time.
I heard the approaching sound of shoes, clicking across the cobblestones.
“I’m here. I’m here.” Leo, darling and breathless, rushed to meet us, just as I had asked him to.
“Thank you for coming,” I said.
“Of course. Of course.”
Leo wore a long, black overcoat. He looked handsome and ready for a night out, even though I was pretty sure he’d been about to go to bed or binge watch Antiques Roadshow. He was so in love with David that it had been a long time since Leo had prioritized the nightlife in Venice above David or sleep.
“Hi,” Leo said, introducing himself. “I’m Leo.”
“I’m Dylan.”
“He’s a twin,” I said, as they shook hands.
“Of course, he is,” Leo said, shaking Dylan’s hand vigorously. “Good firm hand shake, too.”
“Thank you,” Dylan said.
“You are welcome. And my very best friend, Bella, says that you are a lovely person, and if she is a fan, then I am a fan.”
“Lovely,” Dylan said, giving me a sideways glance.
Leo took out a big metal key ring. “Let’s get you both inside the factory before someone notices us.” He opened the ancient door, the locks clicking and sliding as if powering a machine inside the polished black wood.
An alarm beeped, but Leo keyed in a code right by the entrance to ensure the carabinieri didn’t come running. As the barn doors closed behind us, we stepped into a darkened stone lobby.
“Hold, please,” Leo said. He strode across the room and flipped a switch, turning on a series of gas-powered lights that ran up and down the hall. The flickering flames illuminated a series of glass lights and art pieces that encircled the ancient stone room.
In the center of the room hung a blue-and-green chandelier, the tubular strands of glass formed a sea-like creature that shimmered as it rotated. Along the wall stood a series of full-sized glass women in different poses.
Around the archway to another room, glass shelves covered with tiny vases, created a rainbow of reds, purple, and gold. They formed a grand entrance of light and vibrant color.
“It’s extraordinary,” Dylan said, his gaze moving throughout the room. “The art. You can almost hear the music in it.”
“You hear music?” I asked, raising my eyebrows.
“Tonight, I do,” he said, under his breath. “It’s been a long time.”
“I love this room, especially at night,” Leo said. “This is when the glass really shows herself.” He looked confident and proud, wiggling his hips as he pointed to the beautiful pieces.
I understood why he was so successful as a salesman. He loved his art. “If you must know, my evening tours are when I make most of my sales.”
“I bet they are,” Dylan said. “I want absolutely everything in this room.” His eyes moved along the wall of sculptures and stopped on me. He was not talking about the art.
“And this is not a sales event,” Leo said. “Although if you see anything you want to purchase, Dylan, I’m your man. I mean not your man, but you know what I mean.” Even Leo was flustered by Dylan’s handsome face.
“Thank you, Leo,” I said.
“Don’t turn on any more lights, Bella. I have the best ones set.” He handed me the key ring. “Be out of here by midnight, just like Cinderella.”
“What? You aren’t staying to give us the tour?” I said.
“Please, you know your way through here, plus I’m waiting for David to call. We have a FaceTime chat tonight, if you know what I mean,” Leo said, suggestively.
He turned his back to Dylan, eyes bugging out of his head. “Oh, my God,” he mouthed. He leaned in to give me a hug and whispered, “He is gorgeous, so fucking gorgeous. What the actual hell?”
I wanted to laugh, but I kept my lips in a tight line. Leo was right. Dylan was gorgeous, and of all the beautiful women in Venice, he was here with me.
I knew Leo would lose his mind if he knew about Dylan’s other identity, but that secret was not mine to tell. I glanced back at Dylan, trailing his fingers across the ancient brick walls.
“So, how good?” Leo said, then just as fast, added, “Never mind. You already told me.”
“The. Best.”
“Oh, my God, I need to go home and call David,” Leo said. He gave me another quick squeeze before he released his hug and waved at Dylan.
“Pace yourself. This is only the first gallery,” he said. “Bella can take you upstairs, downstairs, she knows all the ins and outs. You two have fun.”
“Stop it,” I said, elbowing him.
“There is a whole set over here that looks like candy,” Dylan called, over his shoulder. He stood in front of a glass shelf filled with different pieces of Murano glass, all shaped like hard candies and taffy.
“I love those,” I said. “They look delicious.”
“Oh, those sell so well,” Leo said, stopping at the entrance. He was never one to walk away from a compliment.
“Leo is being humble,” I said. “He makes those pieces. I make real caramels, and he makes sweet imposters out of glass.”
“I do, don’t I?” Leo said, looking quite pleased with himself. “That is a great name, Bella. Sweet Imposters.”
“Can I?” Dylan said, opening one of the lids.
“Of course,” Leo said, with pride. He was an amazing glass salesman, but he was an artist first. “I use glass remnants from the other artists. I like to think I’m shaping them into new memories.”
“They are like your baci,” Dylan said, running his fingers over the bowls. “You both create beautiful experiences for people.”
“Kind of,” I said. “Mine are sweeter. A lot more sugar.”
“Interesting,” Dylan said, picking up a beautiful blue glass, taffy ripple. He held it up to the light. “It is gorgeous.”
Leo sidled up next to me, arms crossed. “I like him.”
“You just like that he’s complimented your art.”
“Um, I like that he is hot as fuck and the man has good taste in art and women.”
I wrinkled my forehead and squeezed my best friend’s arm. “You don’t even know him.”
“Well, neither do you,” Leo said to the side, then louder. “Goodnight, Dylan. You and my dearest and most lovely friend have one hour to explore. Set your watches, or the security guards will arrive. Oh, now this sounds like fun. I really need to get home and call David.”
Leo slipped out the main door. We heard the turning of gears and were officially locked inside.
“Well,” Dylan said, leaning against a large stone table in the center of the room, “when does my tour begin, clever Bella?”
“It begins now,” I said, smiling. “Why don’t we look at the gallery of glass masters. The views are so beautiful from that hall. It’s upstairs.”
I walked past Dylan, the energy continuing to grow between us. The charge started at dinner. I didn’t need to be here with him. I could have excused myself, accepted his apology, and been done with it, but here I was, leading him down a hallway with lamps that flickered like candles. We climbed a stone staircase into a room with enormous windows that looked out onto the lagoon.
“This is the room where the glass masters display their creations,” I said. “Behind you is a piece commissioned a few years ago, focused on the story of the rising waters around Venice.”
The wall installation behind us was a series of enormous glass waves. Blues, greens, and indigo merged together to create something that looked like light passing through layers of the sea.
“Venice and water, our city has a complicated relationship with the elements,” I said, my voice trailing off.
“I see,” Dylan said, standing beside me. His arm brushing against mine, I inhaled a shaky breath.
“Can I touch it?” he asked.
“No,” I said. “It is best if we don’t touch,” I paused before adding, “the art. It’s best we don’t touch the art.”
Dylan stepped away, and I relaxed as the distance between us increased. He walked past the sculptures and up to the window. Back-lit by the lights outside, Dylan was a silhouette. His body tall, strong, and muscular, he looked to be a shadow of the perfect man.
“Why are we here, Bella?” he said softly, his voice playful and teasing.
“This is your tour,” I said, hoping I sounded casual. “It’s what everybody wants to see in Venice.” It was also romantic, isolated, and incredibly sexy to wander these empty rooms together.
He stepped out of the shadows and into the beam of one of the gas lanterns. “Is this your Venice?”
I watched him in the flickering light, his dark eyes bright and focused on me as if I were the rarest of creatures. “Is this my Venice?” I repeated, wondering how to answer.
“You are showing me what the tourists see, but I think we both know that this is not your usual tour.” He took a step closer. “You could have told me goodnight at the restaurant, Bella.”
“I know,” I said. The thump of my heartbeat quickened.
He took another step, closing the distance between us. “I lied to you. I’m the brother who fucks up.”
“And I’m the daughter that nobody listens to.”
“I’m listening to you now.”
“I like how you listen,” I whispered, my voice raspy.
“What do you want me to know, my clever Bella,” he said.
I took note of the ownership in his statement. My pussy clenched, wet and warm. “It’s complicated,” I said. “Your brother is about to take over my family’s business.”
“True,” he said. “It’s what he does. It isn’t personal. Does that make me the enemy, too?”
“No, but it makes how I’m feeling right now,” I struggled for the word,“challenging. I think you challenge me.”
“Easy is boring,” Dylan said. Standing next to me, he trailed a finger down my arm. “Would you like to know why I think we are here?”
“Yes,” I said, my body quivering. His body cast a golden spell around me, heightening all my senses.
He slipped his arm around my lower back and pulled me into his body with a jerk. I gasped at the motion and the wave of pleasure that rippled through me. He leaned his head down, resting his forehead against mine, his voice gravely, his breath hot against my lips.
“We are here, because you can’t stop thinking about me. You woke up today, and you were glad I was gone, but you wanted me, which was confusing to you since you aren’t used to wanting someone in this way.
“When you thought I ignored you this morning, it made you angry. Angry that you wanted more of me, angry that thinking about the way I drove my hard cock into your perfect pussy last night made it hard for you to breathe.
“Your body knows you need more of me, which is why you didn’t walk away tonight.”
His voice was direct and dominant. His message laced with so much truth, I felt exposed and naked in his arms. He tightened his hold on my lower back.
“You think you are so smart,” I said, my legs quaking as my body melted into him.
His fingertips traced down my neck, over my breasts and my hardening nipples. He cupped one breast, running his thumb up, down, and over the curve. He stayed there for a tantalizing moment before moving down my body, reaching the hem of my skirt.
“Did you think I didn’t notice how you dressed tonight?” he said. “My brother was right.” His breathing grew shallow, his eyes hooded with desire. As he pressed against me, the hardness of his erection pushed against my stomach.
“I did want to fuck you right there on the restaurant table. That dress, those boots. I want to fuck you while you wear nothing but those slutty red boots.”
He moved both hands to my hips. His dick was hard and enormous, just like I remembered. “You are here, because running into me last night is the first thing that has felt real to you in a very long time.”
“It’s true,” I gasped. “How do you know?”
“I know, because it’s how I feel about you, Bella,” he said, his forehead still pressed against mine.
“You are the first woman I have touched in years that feels real. You feel real.” We stood still, our bodies locked in place, pleasure building in my core so fast I knew that if I pressed my clit against him for much longer, I would come hard.
He put his finger under my chin and lifted my mouth to his. He kissed me and I whimpered as his mouth opened and closed, his soft lips gently coaxing me to move.
His tongue swiped across my teeth. The tender sensation rippled through my body. Our kisses grew faster, needier, less controlled.
As we kissed, I felt dizzy as if the room spun around us. We were the only people in the world, as he tongue-fucked my mouth. His lips on mine, his tongue in my mouth, his cock pressed up against me.
We rode a wave of passion that was impossible and yet so real. Our sexual chemistry and shared pain intertwined. I was the girl who had dared to walk away from a Venetian prince. He was the billionaire fuck-up, the rock star who had lost his music.
Were people like us doomed or brilliant together? I didn’t know, but his hands were on my body, in my hair. His tongue was in my mouth, his teeth softly biting my lip. My throbbing pussy clenched, wishing I were pulling his hard cock inside.
Dylan growled and lifted me as easily if I were a paper doll. My legs wrapped around his waist like a reflex. I moved my hips up and down against him.
“That’s right, baby,” he murmured between kisses. “You take it, fucking take what you want from me. I want you to come.”
My skirt hiked up, my thighs clenched against him, there was nothing between my pussy and his clothes but my thin panties.
“Please,” I begged. “I need you. I need more of you.” I palmed his dick, moving my hand up and down and feeling the bulge and length of him through his pants.
He gripped my wrist. “Not yet, baby,” he murmured. “You’re not ready yet.”
His hand slipped beneath my ass and slid into my wet entrance. “Open for me.” Holding me at his waist, he parted my lips and pushed a finger deep inside me.
I whimpered as he thrust one finger deep inside, and then two. “Ahhh, ahhh.”
“You are so fucking wet. So wet, so tight. Come for me,” he said, his voice direct. He pushed two more fingers inside me. I cried out at the fullness. The sensation of being stretched was so fucking good.
“I want you ready for me, baby,” he said. “I need my woman to come.”
My woman. My God.
I saw stars as I arched my back and cried out, my hands in his hair, my hips bucking against him as an orgasm tore through my body, shattering me in waves. “Oh, oh, oh God, oh God,” I said, shaking and shuddering.
He held me as I came. He rocked against me, slowly moving in time with me until the storm inside me calmed.
His fingers still inside me, I kissed him, nibbling on his lower lip, my body humming and vibrating. He pulled his fingers out of me, and I sighed at his exit.
He held his hand up in the air and licked his fingers. He growled as he tasted me. “Fuck, you are perfect,” he said, his eyes glassy. “Open your mouth.”
I was unable to form words, my mind hazy with pleasure, my vagina throbbing with satisfaction. I nodded and opened my mouth. He slid his fingers into my mouth and I sucked on them, tasting the salt of my come.
“I’m not done with you,” he said, watching me as I sucked. “You are such a good girl, such a good girl, coming for me.”
He pulled his fingers out of my mouth. I hated the sense of loss again, the emptiness of not having him inside some part of my body.
“We only have an hour,” I said, leaning my head against his chest, my breathing ragged and shallow. “I want you to know this is a very special tour.”
He leaned down and kissed me again. This time, his kisses were firm and quick. His lips moved faster and faster, conveying his desire for me, his need. I groaned, fumbling with his belt. I wanted to please him. I wanted him now.
Still holding me in the air, he turned with me in his arms. I looked around the room, looking for a place to fuck. I needed to be fucked.
He moved us toward a display cabinet. “Careful of the glass,” I gasped between kisses.
“Fuck the glass,” he said, biting my lip. I cried out, the spike of pain mixed with the pleasure of his lips and tongue was perfect. He spun in a circle and walked me across the room toward an uncluttered, marble countertop beneath a shelf of Murano vases.
“Careful, careful,” I said as he lowered me onto the marble. Overhead, there was a fortune of art.
“I can buy everything in this place a thousand times over,” he said, glancing up at the shelves. “But I will be oh-so-careful, my beautiful girl.” A wicked grin crossed his face. He stepped away from me and placed his hands on my knees.
His eyes wild and hungry, he spread my knees apart. He whipped up my black skirt up, leaving my ass on the cold marble with only my thin, wet panties between me and the beautiful stone.
“I like these boots.” He ran his fingers over the top of my red suede boots. “They make you look like a dirty girl.”
My head rolled back at his touch. My body still buzzing from the first orgasm, dripping wet, I moaned and arched my hips forward.
“Are you a dirty girl?”
“Yes, yes,” I said. “So dirty. I’m so fucking dirty.”
He dropped his mouth to my neck, his stubbled cheek tickling me as he nibbled at my collar bone and ran his tongue up the side of my neck. His breath ragged like mine, he cupped my pussy, his fingers curling beneath me as if he wanted to slip them inside me again. He massaged my clit through my panties.
“Lie back, princess,” he said. He lowered me onto the marble and pulled my knees up, my boots right at the edge of the table. My legs sprawled open, I lay before him, prone and wanting.
“You are so fucking beautiful,” he said. With his arms on either side of my red boots, he ran his tongue up my thighs until he reached my panties. His mouth lingered to breathe in my scent.
He inhaled and growled. “So, perfect.” He slipped his fingers under my panties, grabbing the thin string that crossed my hips. He snapped the fabric, and he tore the panties off.
“There’s my girl,” he said, staring at my pussy. He leaned down, his mouth close as he ran his fingers through my folds, opening me up. “So wet, so warm.”
My hips intuitively started to slowly rock up and down.
He plunged three fingers inside me. I cried out, the sensation triggering a pulse of pleasure. “You want more, baby?”
“Yes, oh please, yes,” I said, my body quivering. “I want it. I want it.”
He smiled and dropped to his knees, his fingers sliding out of me so suddenly that the absence of him sent a ripple of loss through my body. He parted my lips and licked my pussy as if I were the most delicious dish in the world. He sucked on my clitoris, and ever so slightly traced his teeth over my hardening nub.
“Oh, yes, yes, yes.” Pleasure built inside of me. All the heat in my body gathered in my clit as if his tongue were a magnet.
“Fuck, yes,” he growled, eating me out, the vibration of his voice against my sex overwhelming.
“I can’t wait. I can’t.” My hands tangled in his hair, my body shaking, I knew I couldn’t last.
“Come, baby.” His tongue darted in and out of me, as he continued to massage me with his fingers. “Come for me,” he said, the vibration of his voice coaxing me closer to climax.
I pressed against him, completely uninhibited. I gasped, my legs spreading wider with every thrust until I pushed my knees against his head. My hands in his hair, my thighs pulling him in, his face fucking me, I lost control, my body bucking with strong waves.
I tumbled through time and space, shaking and shuddering. I cried out. I screamed. My body knew nothing but this man and this pleasure.
Throbbing and shaking, he lowered me back down on the table. I looked up to see him watching me. He was fucked drunk, his lips glistening with my come.
The moment dream-like, I reached up and ran my fingers through his hair.
“Perfect. You are so perfect.” With a wild fire in his eyes, he unbuckled his pants. I nodded, knowing that he needed release. I understood now that giving me pleasure, watching me come first, was his foreplay. His cock needed me to shudder, and now he was ready.
His eyes never left my face as his pants fell to the ground. He stood before me in his black boxers, the tip of his erection at the top of his briefs. He touched it with his finger, I could see a glisten of come in the light.
He rocked his head back and breathed. “Just a second, baby,” he said, moving his head from side to side. “I could come just looking at you.”
I bit my lip and scooted my hips forward, letting my knees drop open again to expose my wet, throbbing pussy. I wanted him to see me pink and glistening.
He pulled down his briefs. His enormous cock dropped to the side, hard and proud. I could see the veins running down each side of him. I wanted to touch him, to feel his throbbing heat.
He had a condom in his hand, which he unwrapped and slid over his dick, never taking his eyes off my pussy.
“Take me,” I said, running my fingers over my clit. My body shuddered at my touch.
He fisted his cock, moving his hand up and down as he stared at me. I was looking into the wild eyes of a wolf. He grabbed my hips, pulled me forward, his hand under the small of my back. He sat me up, and knelt down, pressing his hips between my legs. The tip of his cock pressed against my wetness.
“Please, yes, oh yes,” I cried, as his rock-hard dick slid into me inch by inch.
“Fuck, yes,” he whispered. “Open up for me, baby, open wide.”
He had fucked me with his fingers and with his mouth, all for this, to make sure I was ready to take him in, to prepare me for this moment. I remembered the sensation of him sliding into me the night before, but that was before I knew his name, that was before he had called me his woman.
“A little more,” he whispered, rocking his hips, pushing in deeper and deeper. “Open for me,” he moaned.
“Yes, yes, yes, ahh.” My voice rose. I no longer cared what noise I made. I spread wide as he slid all the way in until his hip bones were tight against mine.
I looked down to see him staring at our bodies fused together. Mewing, I lifted my hips, wanting more, needing more. I couldn’t look away from the place where our bodies connected.
“Fuck,” he said, his voice low. “That’s it, that’s it. Fuck.” His girth stretched me wide. He drove in deep as he moved slowly in and out, in and out. This was the moment we both craved.
Our bodies fused, pulses throbbing. I mewed and whimpered, my fingers raking his back and grabbing his ass. I wanted him closer, deeper. I thought of nothing but his dick claiming me, owning me.
Our moans and breathing syncopated, sweat dripped between us. Our skin slapped together every time he drove into me. Faster and faster he pushed as deep as he could. He took me. He possessed me. My orgasm spun like the wind of a hurricane ready to unfurl. Control slipped from my fingers with every driving thrust.
“I’m coming. I’m coming,” I wailed, slamming against him.
“Fuck, yes,” he shouted. My body exploded from the inside out. Dylan’s release pumped into my quivering pussy as his come claimed me with bursts of energy that felt like golden light.
His dick shuddered and shook inside me as his come filled me. I trembled in his arms as the energy of our climax waxed and waned in beautiful ripples. We held each other, shaking.
Dylan kissed my lips. My breathing was still uneven, my body humming as if he’d activated every cell in my body. I wanted to sleep, to drift into dreamland on this boat of bliss, but I also knew I had never felt this awake of alive in my life.
“Dylan,” I said, cupping his face in my hand. Sex like this could never be contained by a one-night-stand. Now that we knew each other’s names, we knew each other’s secrets, too. My heart cracked open a little wider with every one of his soft kisses.
“Thank you,” he said, between soft, gorgeous kisses.
I exhaled a half-sigh and moan in response, words still out of reach.
“You feel like music,” he said. “I can’t explain it any other way. You feel like a song.”
He pulled out of me slowly, tenderly. He lowered my skirt and found his pants. Quietly and gently, he helped me to my feet. Our breath normalized as we dressed. The delicious humming and buzzing inside me faded to a feeling of wholeness and satisfaction.
I grabbed his arm, gasping. “Look!” One of the vases overhead had shifted. It sat dangerously close to teetering off the edge of the shelf, crashing to the stone floor.
Dylan laughed and slid it back into place. “It would have been worth it,” he said. “I’m a little disappointed that we didn’t break it. Next time, we need to try harder.”
“Try harder,” I said, swatting his arm. “Fuck you.”
“No, I believe it’s fuck you,” he said, kissing me again.
We were joking about sex. The best sex of my life with the most beautiful man that I had ever met, and he made me laugh. He picked up my shawl and held it in the air.
“Your wrap, my lady,” he said.
I pretended to curtsy, and as he wrapped my shawl around me and helped me pull down the hem of my skirt, I wished we could go back to the moment where he was deep inside me. I wanted to keep that feeling of completion forever.
We froze at the unmistakable sound of footsteps and the jingling of keys. “The security guards,” I whispered.
“Has it been an hour? Time did stand still a couple of times,” he said, grinning with that smart-ass smile.
“Follow me.” I opened a door that led to another display room, checked to make sure the coast was clear, and slipped back into the hallway. I pulled Dylan into a dark entryway that led to a storage room. We were cloaked by shadows and needed to stay quiet until the guard exited the hall.
“Should we just run, or are we going to hide here?” he whispered.
“Shhhhh,” I said, glancing back down the hall. I could see a beam of light bounce off the walls, as the guard moved from the main hall into each of the display rooms.
“He is doing his rounds,” I said.
“You have a plan?”
I nodded. “He will go back and forth to each room.”
“And we stay here?”
“How fast can you run?”
“I’m a proper athlete,” he said.
“Okay, when that light goes to the left,” I said, “we run to the right.” I pulled Dylan by the hand, inching him closer to the exit. Our only way out was right past this guard.
The guard’s light flashed by us. He turned the corner and his beam grew dim as he focused on another room.
“Now,” I whispered.
Grabbing Dylan’s hand, we bolted across the hall. The sound of our footsteps gave us away, and I could hear the shuffle of the security guard when he realized he wasn’t alone.
“Stop!” he shouted. “Who’s there?”
The exit door was just down the stairs. We took the stone steps two at a time, dashed past the entryway where Leo had given us the keys. We were steps away when the front door opened from the outside. A flashlight shone in our face.
“Stop! Thief!” And just like that, we were cornered by the Venetian Carabinieri.
I dropped Dylan’s hand, and we raised our hands in the air.