Chapter 27
Emma
Venice by night is as magical as Venice by day.
Jude orders a private water taxi to take us to the restaurant.
He keeps telling me it’s the top rated food place in lots of magazines.
So I’m a bit apprehensive about how glamorous it might be.
I’ve smoothed down non-existent creases in my dress.
I’ve fiddled and rubbed the small St Christopher pendant on my gold chain around my neck so much, I expect the saint himself to pop up in front of me, like a genie out of a lamp.
Jude watches me fidget and fiddle, finally taking my small hand in his large one. He rubs his thumb once over the soft skin. ‘I’ve got you,’ he’s telling me. And I calm immediately.
A left turn off the Grand Canal has us floating sedately down a small rio.
The term I’ve found out is ‘street’ for a waterway.
It’s too small for the boat to get us any closer, so we dock and hop out to walk over the small bridge in front of us.
With only a few others around, it’s quiet and dark, but not desolate.
Despite how I’ve worked it up in my mind based on Jude’s praise and touted accolades, I’m totally surprised when I arrive.
The restaurant is the least pretentious place I've seen. Four tables outside are full of diners. Inside, two large rooms connect via a passageway with one table crammed into it. Every table is full. We’re seated at the solitary table in the passageway.
It’s secluded, with only wait staff passing by occasionally.
Everyone else is too busy eating, drinking, and talking to even look our way.
While Jude orders drinks and wine, I’m trying to make out the menu. It feels like gobbledegook. There’s a translation booklet alongside the menu. Clearly they’re used to people not understanding Italian. Thank god that my phone has decided to work and I can decipher the main dish.
I decide to let the waiter—who turns out to be the owner of the restaurant—pick my starter.
I’m glad I did. I would never have ordered any of the food that comes, but it is the most delicious cuisine I have ever tasted.
I’m practically picking the plate up and licking it clean.
And instead of being mortified, Jude is grinning at my antics.
“Hungry, baby? You must have worked up a serious appetite today. You been busy?”
His sexy smirk hits me straight in the guts, my vagina fluttering in response.
He’s as hungry as me. My body has definitely gone off piste.
But I love that it has. I’ve never had this sort of pull towards anyone.
Is it just lust? Or is there something else at play here?
I contemplate his gorgeous face. I can’t take my eyes off him.
His eyes start to dilate as he stares at me staring at him. “Fuck, Lincoln.” He reaches out and gently touches my face. “Hold that thought, baby. Only the main course, and then I’ll let you have whatever dessert is on that glorious mind of yours.”
I turn my head and kiss his palm, my tongue shooting out to flick at his skin. The salty tang is an aphrodisiac for me. I’m mesmerised by him. He’s opened up a world to me, to sexuality, to being empowered and asking for what you want. No, demanding it. And I fully intend to embrace it.
The involuntary growl that slips from the back of his throat has me closing my eyes and dissolving into a full body shiver.
He can see what he’s doing to me. He loves it.
His raw sexuality is not hidden. It’s on full exhibit for whoever wants to look.
Anyone walking by would see the show he’s putting on for me.
And he doesn’t care. It’s a heady mix, especially for someone who has not had this sort of attention heaped on them.
In my past life, my life pre-Jude, everything was hidden behind closed doors. I can’t remember if Nigel ever touched me in public. Even to usher me into somewhere. He must have, but I honestly can’t remember a time he kissed me in public. Even to say goodbye.
Jude has apparently blasted away any of those memories.
The only thing I can think about is him.
The only person I want to touch me, and who I want to touch, is him.
I’m not sure how I got here so quickly. It worries me, as I am generally a rational person.
A pragmatic business woman. But not enough to stop.
I’m tortured and teased. Dinner is a game of heaven and hell.
And he is the god who is directing the plays.
The food is the best I’ve tasted for a long time.
But Jude Greystone is my saviour and my torturer.
His touch is richer than the foods I’m shovelling in my mouth.
My moans of delight are my retaliation, pushing all his buttons.
The brushing of his fingers on mine is more delicate than the flavours carefully crafted together.
His whisper of a kiss, more explosive than the bursts of sweetness on my tongue.
We sit, we eat, we drink, we touch and caress.
I’ve never felt more connected to one individual as I do with him tonight.
We’re like teenagers in the first flush of lust. And I’m not one bit embarrassed about it.
We make out. We share food like lovesick fools.
I’m glad we’re here on our own. Hidden from full prying eyes.
I’m not sure I would be so overt if I was sat on full display.
But who am I kidding. I know I probably wouldn’t care.
And by the time he orders the taxi home, my engine is revving faster than the boats.
We’re stood at the dock. It’s late, dark, and still very quiet. “Do you want to go for more drinks? We can hop out at a bar?”
He doesn’t sound that enthusiastic, and I know he’s asking for me. To give me options, to see if I want to see more of Venice. But I don’t. I only want to see more of him.
I shake my head. “No, I want you to take me home.” I brazenly push him up against the front of an old house that looks like it’s under construction. No one is around, and I place my hand on his dick. I can feel it hardening behind his trousers. “Did I show you what underwear I have on tonight?”
He solemnly shakes his head. His eyes look almost black under the one insubstantial light. I unbutton my dress, a few buttons at a time. His eyes don’t leave my fingers. By the time the top of my satin bustier comes into view, he’s almost panting. I can see the pulse pounding in his neck.
His middle finger comes up almost in slow motion and runs along the swell of my pushed-up tits. The skin looks creamy in the dark night.
His eyes are large, his face a different level of intense. His tongue licks along his full lips. His eyes following the line traced by his middle finger. “Fuck, I want these in my mouth. I can taste you.”
I’m going to come at this rate. I clench and rub my thighs together. It’s as if someone lit a flare, and his eyes zero in on my movement.
“Were the fuck is this taxi?” He gathers up my hair, and spins me onto the wall, my back hitting it.
His hand goes to steady me, and his kisses rain down.
I can hardly contain him. It’s as if I’ve lit something else within him.
I feel like a star following the moon. I have no choice. His body commands and mine obeys.
He doesn’t stop all the way home. Even as we’re stood at the back of the boat with our heads out, watching Venice by night, he’s pressing his hard cock against my arse.
Slow movements, his hands moving from my shoulders upwards. Slow, infinitesimal movements. But the power behind them scares the shit out of me.
But also excites me. How can I be so afraid, yet so willing. I realise it probably isn’t fear of him, but fear of myself. Fear of letting someone else in, considering I’ve been so hurt in the past.
His body covers mine, every inch of me has him on it as we pull up to the boat entrance of the hotel. He allows the hotel staff and boat taxi driver to help me out, as he ensures I’m safely up the steps and onto land.
“Okay, Lincoln, let's see what you got.”
I’m unceremoniously pulled towards our room, the door dragged nearly off its hinges.
I’m shocked by the force on show. He’s like a madman.
I expect it to go like last night, me unwrapped like a Christmas present.
But no. Tonight I see the frenzy in his eyes.
The wild energy pouring from him. The door is slammed shut and I’m pushed against the wall, caged inside his arms.
“Do you like this dress?” His voice is low, but weirdly conversational. “Is it special to you?”
I shake my head. “I bought it for the trip, but no special attachment.”
The grin I get is ferine. “Good. So you won’t mind if I do this.” Both his hands reach for the dress near my breasts. Like a crowbar leveraging metal. The dress is shredded. God knows what my face must look like, as he starts to laugh. “Yeah, baby. That fucking badly.”
He takes a step back again. My bustier with garter belt and stockings are on full display. “I could get used to this.” His eyes are black, his pirate smile in full effect, and I’m trapped by his intensity.
My body, however, has not quite got the hang of being prey, and rather than running scared, I shrug off the wrecked dress and lift my arms above my head. Arching my back, I push my tits towards him.
“So could I,” I purr out at him. I’m not sure where this bravado is coming from, but he loves it.
He drops to his knees, his hands destroying the skimpy knickers that are barely covering my pussy, and rubs his nose all the way through my pussy lips.
His hands follow up, opening me wide to him, and his fingers are everywhere, sweeping my dripping juices to my back hole, manoeuvring his fingers inside me.
I detonate as he sucks hard on my clit, his tongue instantly being pushed inside me to carry on fucking me.
I’m pulling his hair and screaming, and god knows what the room next door thinks is happening.
But there is no reprieve for me tonight.
I’m bent over the settee and I hear the tear of the condom wrapper moments before he enters me from behind.
My torso is pushed lower so he can pound into me.
His frenzy pushes at something basic and primal inside of me.
I want to match him, I want to destroy him.
Destroy? What the hell am I thinking?
My thoughts are cut short and I cry out as he pulls my body up by my hair. The sting only enhances what he’s doing to me, and I don’t know which way is up.
All night long, he fucks me. Every surface in that room I’m placed upon, his dirty mouth telling me what he’s going to do to me. And all I do is moan and breathe heavily at him, saying yes at the appropriate points.
“Emma, I want to fuck you here.” He’s touching my puckered hole, and I whimper in response.
I’m not sure why. He’s been warming me up, getting me ready all night.
I knew he might want to do this. I’ve never done it before.
My brain is telling me to be terrified, but my body is heading towards excitement.
And the more I consider it, the more intrigued I am.
It was never an option before. Nigel was not remotely interested.
“It won’t hurt. I’ll make it good for you. It’ll be the best orgasm you’ve had all night. Guaranteed.”
His lips skim across my tits, and he bites down on my nipples. The responding clench from my core muscles is huge. I’ve seemingly got a lot of kinks I didn’t know about.
“I trust you,” I manage to squeeze out.
“Good girl.”
He smirks at me, and I watch as he strokes himself.
He’s got me on all fours and licking and biting at my pussy and arse.
The lube is dragged out, and his cock made ready.
Drizzling the lube from the top of my buttocks, he’s massaging me.
It feels divine, all the biting and licking, caressing and spanking.
His fingers warming me up, spreading my rosebud in readiness.
In complete and utter euphoria, I feel as if I’m burning up with it, and I push back towards him, my entire body entranced as he starts to inch inside me.
“Relax, it won’t hurt,” he coos in my ear, his hands gripping my hips, anchoring me in place. “Once I’m in, it will so fucking good.”
He’s moving gently but firmly, and even though it feels a little alien, I like it. He pushes past the ring of muscle and starts to glide in and out, gently backwards and forwards, using more lube each time.
His hands are all over my body. Every inch of my skin is worshipped. This man is laying his sexual world at my feet, and I am picking it up and running with it.
The feeling is intense, but so good. His thrusts become stronger, his fingers hold and vibrate on my clit. He’s balancing out by using my hair, and I luxuriate in the burn. I feel full, even as my pussy is trying to grab onto thin air.
I scream his name as I explode. He loses the plot, his hands gripping my hips as he fucks me into oblivion. He bellows as he comes, and I can feel him pulsing inside me. I see rainbows and stars as he flops forwards onto my back, continuing to lick and bite me whilst gently pulling out.
Discarding the condom, he pulls me towards him on the bed. Our bodies covered in sweat, my face stained with tears of joy, I savor the feeling for one beautiful moment. Then the reality hits me that I have never had anyone make me feel this level of pure pleasure and joy.
What the hell am I going to do now?