Chapter 26
Hunger Prevails
Meanwhile, back at Villa D’Avalos
The last vestiges of her orgasm leaving her drowsy, Armenia angled her head so she could regard the man who had passed out atop her, essentially trapping her beneath him.
This certainly wasn’t the afternoon she had imagined when she had awoken that morning.
She had thought to discover Mr. McAdams’ true intentions—a quick tumble and a remark about seeing her sometime in the future—and lead him on until they were about to do the deed before unceremoniously ordering him out of her house and her life.
She’d had enough of entitled—and titled—men expecting her to be at their beck and call years ago. Expecting her to jump into bed and provide relief for arousals they claimed she had caused.
Conte Mancino had been the last. Their annual escape to Taormina had been a trip she looked forward to every spring.
A couple of months in a villa perched on a hill overlooking the Bay of Giardini Naxos provided respite from dealing with her brother and his machinations.
Their last liaison had ended badly, though, when she learned he had several lovers in Naples—all younger than her.
The experience had been both a startling reminder of her fading beauty and the fickleness of men. Coupled with the announcement that Nicoletta would be marrying the Marchese Montblanc instead of Donald Slater made something snap inside her.
She was done with men. Done with their schemes and done with their lies.
Then along came Patrick McAdams to reawaken something inside her she had long ago stuffed away.
Desire.
Not because he was handsome, or because he was at least as tall as she was, or because he seemed to listen to what she said when she spoke.
He was so damned earnest. So open about his regard for her. If she wasn’t careful, he would break the shell around her hardened heart and have her agreeing with whatever he wanted to do.
She speared Patrick’s hair with her fingers, scraping his scalp. Feeling him shiver, she grinned. “You needn’t have been concerned about humiliating yourself,” she murmured.
He chuckled and lifted his head. Despite his stare, Armenia continued watching him from where she had angled her head on the pillow.
“You as well,” he whispered, sighing with satisfaction as he moved his hands to the sides of breasts to lift them until they were pressed to the sides of his head.
He barely had the strength to raise his head so that he could kiss each nipple. “What have you done to me, my Venus?”
She tittered, the response causing her entire body to vibrate beneath him. “I might ask the same of you.” Her legs gave up her hold on him, straightening so her feet rested on either side of his knees.
He chuckled in response, rolling off of her but winding an arm behind her shoulders so she ended up half atop him when he landed on his back at the edge of the bed. He turned his head and kissed the side of her face. “Grazie,” he whispered.
She grinned before glancing over at him. “Prego.”
“Are you hungry?” he asked.
“I am famished,” she said, reminded there was food out in the sitting room.
“Would you be amenable to eating in bed?” he asked.
“I do most mornings,” she replied. At seeing his curious expression, she added, “DeLuca brings me a cup of chocolate and toast, sometimes fruit.”
“I’ll be right back,” he said, stepping off the bed to make his way to the sitting room.
Armenia watched as he opened the door, inhaling softly at seeing his nakedness, the shape of his muscular legs and angular buttocks evident despite the gloom. Light from the sitting room briefly cast him in silhouette before he disappeared.
Tempted to pull on a dressing robe, she was about to rise from the bed when he returned with a tray. Two plates were piled with a variety of meats and cheeses, cut fruits, and two cups of coffee.
He joined her on the bed, balancing the tray so its sides straddled his thighs as he leaned against the headboard. “May I feed you?”
Armenia scoffed, but joined him at the head of the bed, pulling a blanket up to cover her chest. “Depends on what you’re offering,” she teased.
A huge grin split his face. “A better double entendre I’ve not heard,” he said, offering her a section of an orange. She took it between her lips, but before she could reach up to take hold of it, a drop of juice escaped and began running down her chin.
“I’ll get it,” he said, leaning over to lick it with his tongue. He managed to kiss her lips in the process, surprising her.
“The oranges here never disappoint,” he commented, before helping himself to a slice of rolled ham. He handed her one. “In fact, I have found nothing here about which to complain,” he remarked.
“That’s because you haven’t been here long enough,” she said, before finishing off the ham.
“Perhaps,” he said between bites of an apricot. “This is so good,” he added, holding up the fruit.
“There are apricot and cherry trees on the D’Avalos property outside of town,” she said, helping herself to another section of orange.
“The farm with the sheep?”
Her mouth full, she nodded.
“How is it you’re not married? I would have guessed you were a widow, except I distinctly remember you saying you never married.”
Armenia nearly choked on the last of her orange.
She contemplated telling him it was none of his business, but his curiosity seemed so sincere.
“I refused the man my father arranged for me to marry,” she stated.
“He was old enough to be my father and possessed the worst manners when it came to eating.”
Patrick was in the middle of chewing another piece of meat but stopped, his eyes widening with worry.
“You needn’t be concerned,” she said. “He chewed with his mouth open and made the most annoying noises. He ate much like pigs do.”
“What happened to him?”
She rolled her eyes. “He choked to death at his wedding banquet a few months later. Donna Rossi was never more relieved.”
Blinking, Patrick appeared not to believe her. “You are... joking with me?” he guessed.
She shook her head before popping a cherry into her mouth. “I am not. She ended up marrying his son from his first marriage. He was a widower,” she quickly added.
“Well, I suppose that’s one way to keep the family fortune,” he murmured. “You must have had other offers,” he prompted.
She sighed before clearing her throat. “Two, neither one very serious,” she replied.
“When my brother’s wife died in the childbed, he required a hostess and never pursued a match for me, which I appreciated more than he could know.
” She saw Patrick wince. “That doesn’t mean.
..” She stopped when she saw his expression suddenly change. “What?” she whispered.
“Will you marry me?”
She inhaled softly. “You haven’t even known me an entire day,” she countered.
“I want to learn everything there is to know about you,” he claimed. “I promise to honor you. I promise fidelity,” he added, apparently knowing that last vow would have her considering his proposal with more seriousness.
“Why?” she asked gently.
He inhaled deeply and let the breath out in a whoosh.
“Something happened last night. I was minding my own business—literally—and then I saw you watching me, and it was as if my eyes were opened for the first time in years,” he explained.
“As if I’ve been going through life blind and you made me see everything so clearly. Then you made me want you.”
Armenia swallowed, remembering her earlier thoughts on their meeting. “Want?” she repeated. “Like... like a possession?”
His shoulders noticeably dropping, he said, “I know it sounds like that, because part of it is.”
Shocked at his admission, she said, “Oh? And the other part?” She swallowed the other words she nearly blurted out. Never in her life had she wanted to accept a man’s attentions as much as she did Patrick’s.
Whatever was wrong with her?
“Armenia, I cannot abide the thought of another man with you,” he claimed.
“I don’t think it’s only jealousy, either.
I feel I have a duty to protect you. To make you happy.
To make love to you whenever you’re of a mind to be worshipped.
” He leaned down and placed a kiss on her bare shoulder. “Be my Venus, will you?”
Armenia inhaled softly, murmuring when he suckled her earlobe. “Might I think on it for a day or two?”
He nodded. “I’m not going anywhere.” He closed his eyes and made an odd sound in his throat.
“I mean to say, I will go back to my lodgings when you’ve had enough of me today.
But I hope you’ll allow me to continue paying calls on you, and not just for this,” he added, waving to the bed and the tray of food.
“I enjoy your company. Especially your candor. It will take the rest of our lifetimes for you to show me all the Italian art in this town.” He kissed her cheek. “And I adore making love to you.”
Even before he had finished his litany of reasons he wanted to marry her, Armenia was already experiencing a renewal of the arousal she had felt earlier that day.
The throbbing at the top of her thighs matched the beat of her heart, and her nipples hardened behind the blanket she still clutched to her chest.
“Put the tray on the floor,” she ordered.
Patrick jerked at hearing the command in her voice, but he quickly did her bidding.
“Now lie back,” she said. She saw him swallow but he was quick to shift his body farther down onto the bed and settle his head into the pillow. His semi-rigid cock suddenly stood at attention, as if it knew more than he did what was about to happen.
Armenia tossed the blanket from her body and straddled him, happy to see his reaction of surprise when she clasped her hands over both of his and raised them so they were on either side of his head. “Don’t touch me,” she whispered.
His eyes darkened, but his hands went slack beneath her hold.
As she moved her hips so her wet quim slid along his velvety length, she lowered her breasts until her nipples skimmed through the sprinkling of crisp graying curls on his chest. They were joined by a lock of hair that had escaped its pins, the raven mass sliding down the side of his chest.
He bucked beneath her, his face displaying humor. “That tickles,” he claimed.
She grinned and then lifted her hips. His manhood seemed to know exactly where her opening was, for she was able keep her hands clasped on his as she lowered her hips and took in his entire length during her slow descent.
Her core throbbed with need, as did his cock.
She ground herself against his groin, felt his sac tighten.
She gave up her hold on one of his hands so she could reach back and lift it with three fingers.
His reaction beneath her was immediate as his hips jerked up. She was reminded of riding a young horse attempting to unseat its rider, but she knew he didn’t want to buck her off of him. Not if the sounds he was making were any indication.
“I have to touch you,” he said in a hoarse whisper.
Before she could put voice to a response, he had his free hand where their bodies met, his thumb pressing against her swollen womanhood.
Combined with how she moved atop him, his ministrations helped to set off her impending release.
She was caught off-guard when the sudden and sharp orgasm gripped her and sent her over the edge of oblivion.
“Coglione,” she whispered, her spine arching as she threw her head back.
She was lost in the increasing waves of pleasure that rolled through her, barely aware when his release had him spilling his seed into her, and only then because she heard his growls and murmurs that sounded as if he was praying to a god of love.
When her body seemed to lose all its strength along with all its bones, she crumpled down onto him, the last few inches happening as if in a dream as he captured her torso and slowed her descent until she landed on him.
She felt an arm wrap around her back while one of his hands cupped her head to place it in the small of his shoulder. Straightening her legs, she felt him kiss her forehead before she allowed sleep to take her.