Chapter 28
Dimples Delight
Meanwhile, in the master bedchamber at Villa D’Avalos
Not sure what had him awakening with a start, Patrick glanced around Armenia’s bedchamber expecting to see her up and about.
She wasn’t, though. Although he remembered her falling asleep atop him, she had slid off and was lying on her stomach, a bed linen barely covering her backside.
He lifted himself onto an elbow, and with his free hand, he traced the bumps of her spine down to the fabric.
Just above the edge were two slight indentations directly above the globes of her derriere.
Grinning, he used a fingertip to circle each one, delighting in how her body shivered beneath his touch.
“Whatever are you doing?” she asked, her voice thick with sleep.
“Apologies. I didn’t mean to wake you,” he whispered.
“Liar.”
He chuckled softly as he continued to tease her warm skin with his fingertips. From her soft gasps and the way her skin reacted, he knew she was either experiencing a tickle or a frisson of pleasure. “You have the most adorable dimples on your backside,” he murmured.
Now wide awake, Armenia lifted herself onto her elbows and glanced back over her shoulder, her face half-hidden by a lock of hair that had escaped its pins. “What dimples?”
To prevent her from moving away from him or turning over, he flattened his hand over the small of her back as he moved down the bed. “These dimples,” he replied, right before he reached out with his tongue to lick each one in turn.
She inhaled sharply and whispered something in Italian as she attempted to lift her hips from the mattress.
He slid his hand over the curve of one globe, drawing the bed linen off her body until it was well past her bottom. He kissed each dimple in turn before touching them with the tip of his nose.
Inhaling the scent of her feminine musk, he chuckled softly. “These dimples,” he repeated.
Free of the bed linen, he watched as Armenia drew up her knees, further lifting her backside from the bed as he continued to run his palm over her warm skin. Desire once again had his cock hardening, the tip already dripping in anticipation of another round of lovemaking.
“Well?”
He gave a start when he realized she was once again attempting to look back at him from over her shoulder. For a moment, Patrick didn’t realize her intentions. He didn’t understand she was inviting him to enter her right then and there.
He moved his hand around her derriere and then between her spread thighs to discover she was already wet with desire.
She jerked against his palm, and he felt her swollen womanhood rub against his middle finger. She moved again, her inhalations of breath the only sound she made as she rocked her quim against his hand.
Settling onto his haunches, Patrick gripped one of her hips and drew her closer to his body as he continued to rub her swollen sex, soon replacing his hand with his engorged manhood.
He groaned when he felt one of her hands cover his to press it harder against her womanhood, her cries of pleasure muffled in the mattress as she guided his cock into her throbbing channel.
He wasn’t prepared for how much pleasure he would experience with the first tentative thrust. He wasn’t expecting her to lift herself onto her arms, using one hand to grip a rung of the iron headboard as if to brace herself.
Wasn’t ready when she pushed her bum into his groin, ensuring he was buried as deep as he would go.
He wasn’t expecting her to cover his hand with one of her own and move it to grasp a breast, the pebbled nipple settling between two of his fingers.
When he sensed he was about to break apart into a million pieces—there could be no other way to describe what he experienced when his orgasm took him from the here and now—he had only enough strength to pull her up so her back was pressed against the front of his body, her head tossed back over one of his shoulders as he settled on his haunches and gave into the pleasure.
Her orgasm followed as he tightened his hold on her, and he knew from how her body quaked that she, too, was lost to the pleasure.
This time, he didn’t pass out. He didn’t allow sleep to take him. He simply remained where he was. He did take advantage of Armenia’s exposed neck to place a kiss there, which seemed to arouse her from her post-coital stupor.
“Those dimples,” he whispered.
Despite her drowsy demeanor, she tittered. “Next time I’m going to discover if you have them,” she warned.
Patrick inhaled and grinned. Her comment implied they would be doing this again. “Next time,” he agreed.
A half-hour later
“When may I call on you again?” Patrick asked, grasping her hand to kiss the back of it.
She wore only a dressing gown, her hair completely free of its pins so it hung well below her shoulders.
A few streaks of gray interrupted the otherwise raven color, but he thought it suited her age and bearing.
From her heightened color, it was apparent she had been tumbled and was happy about it.
“If I didn’t have to attend a family dinner at the Villa Montblanc this evening, I would ask you to stay,” she murmured. “Come for dinner on the morrow,” she added. “Seven o’clock.”
He nodded. “I shall be here,” he promised. He leaned forward and kissed her cheek before barely brushing them over her lips. “Buonsera, my Venus.”
“Good night, Patrick,” she whispered.
Making his way out of the courtyard and into the street, Patrick experienced a moment of regret. Armenia hadn’t invited him to spend the night, but then she had mentioned the family dinner.
About to turn around, he remembered he hadn’t been in his office since that morning. Duty called, and although he found walking more difficult than usual, he made it across the Piazza Navona and into his building as the sun was setting beyond the river.