In the sumptuous oyster pink bathroom, Lauren stood at the lighted mirror and stared at herself, critically looking over each feature slowly as if trying to find some sort of flaw. It was late because the party had run over with various famous guest artistes giving their rendition, but she had had fun. And truth be told, she had been reluctant to come up with her husband and be alone with him, which was ridiculous because she had been with him many nights, but tonight was different! Tonight was their wedding night and she was not sure she had made the right decision in marrying him. Her life was about to change, and she was not certain that she was ready for that change. She was no longer plain Lauren Jamieson, the online wonder who gave women with natural hair so much hope, or the woman who mixed and matched outfits for every season and had garnered so many followers. She was now the wife of one of the most powerful men in the garment industry. He was up there with Armani and the others and she was not sure she would ever fit in. She was used to being a free spirit, used to doing her own thing, accustomed to just dragging on her clothes and going to the corner café to have a shot of espresso.
Now that was over for her. She would not be able to step out of the hotel without a guard shadowing her or to just go for a run or a walk. What was even more frightening was the fact that she would be spending half the time in Italy, which would now be her home. She would be living with complete strangers because there was no doubt that the man she had fallen in love with and married was a complete stranger to her. There were pockets of his life she was not privy to. He had told her that he liked his privacy and she had laughed at that.
“How can you expect privacy when you are who you are?” she had asked him.
“I try my best to see to it. There are things I do not like to share with anyone,” he had told her quietly. And she knew he meant it.
Firming her lips, she reached up to take the pins out of her heavy tresses, watching as it tumbled past her shoulders, the different shades catching the light from the double sink. Next, she eased the dress over her shoulders and peeled it away before standing in the skimpy flesh colored teddy that had come with the outfit. A nightgown had been sent to her from Monique Romano with a note: “We did not get a chance to design your wedding gown, but I insist on this for your wedding night.” It was ruby red and as light as a butterfly’s wing. What’s more, it was made up entirely of rich lace that revealed more than it concealed. The skimpy material barely covered her thigh, with the slender straps falling artlessly off her left shoulder. The color looked great against her skin and the effect was absolutely stunning! Using the soap she had created, she washed off her makeup and patted her skin with the rolled towel before stepping back and staring at the effect. With a slight smile, she nodded and left the bathroom to be with her new husband.
Piero had stripped down to the light blue cotton De Luca boxers and was standing next to the bed when she came back into the room. Something lodged inside his throat as he stared at her. The lights from the bathroom was a perfect backdrop – filtering over her skin and adding color to the skimpy peignoir and the mass of heavy natural curls that tumbled past her shoulders.
“Mio Dio!” he whispered as he gazed at her.
She was familiar enough with the language to recognize the deity, and striking a pose a few feet from him with one hand on her hip, she gave him a dazzling smile.
“You like?”
“That is too tame a word.” He stretched out a hand and she walked over to place her hand in his. He drew her into his arms, turning so that they were facing each other. His hands came up to cup her face, his fingers teasing the hairs that were against her ears, his breathing accelerating. “You are Bella, my sweet wife.” He whispered a few Italian endearments as he tilted her chin up to him. “I am dying to feel you next to me.”
“I want that too,” she whispered, her fingers curling into his chest. The first time he had made love to her, he had shattered her with his expertise and his Italian endearments, leaving her shaken and disoriented. He nodded, and lifting her into his arms, he took her to the bed and placed her there as if she was fragile. “Don’t be gentle,” she moved her hand over his muscled chest, marveling at the dense black hairs that narrowed and disappeared into his underwear.
“I will not be,” he told her thickly as he climbed in next to her. “My wife.”
His fingers spread her hair out onto the light blue pillows, fascinated by the thick curls that seem to have a life of their own. Lauren watched in silence as he got on his knees and peeled the skimpy material from her body, a groan escaping him as he stared at her bare skin, his eyes latching onto the hairs covering her pubis. Pressing a hand over her intimate area, he lifted his dark head to watch for her reaction to his touch. He found almost a dark glory in watching her lips part, her breath escaping, revealing to him that he was not the only one finding this passion so intense that it threatens, almost every time, to spiral out of control from the very beginning. Removing his hand, he shifted so that he could remove his underwear, his swollen penis pulsing with need. A moan escaped her lips as her body arched towards his, one hand reaching out in entreaty, her dark brown eyes slumberous with desire.
“Now, please.”
He nodded, not trusting himself to speak as he climbed over her. He nudged her middle with the tip of him, his hands braced at the sides of her head, his eyes on her face.
“Hold me,” he demanded thickly.
Reaching between them, she did as he asked, wrapping her fingers around the thick length of him and squeezing slightly. His reaction was violent, his body jerking towards hers, his eyes blazing with a fire that seared her! He muttered in Italian, the meaning clear as he bent his head to kiss her forehead, brushing away the fleeting thought of the one he had placed on Sophia’s forehead earlier tonight. His lips drifted to her small pert nose, her sculpted cheek before using his tongue at the side of her lips. She was still holding him but this time, her fingers slid over the tip of him where a drop of moisture had already collected.
“I am impatient to have you,” he whispered as she rubbed the moisture over the round head of his penis, “and you are making it worse, Tesoro.”
A groan escaped him as she used the point of her fingernail to delve into the slit. Opening her mouth, she captured his tongue, pulling it into her mouth and feasting on it the way he had taught her. His groan was loud and tortured, and he realized that he would not be able to make it, he was doing his best to delay the inevitable, but it would not be long before the orgasm shot through his already passion riddled body! Dragging his lips from hers, he gasped, his heart thundering inside his chest as he removed her hand and guided his swollen shaft inside her, his teeth gritting as the tightness sheathed him like a glove. He inched in deeper, his hands gripping her hair and keeping her head in place as he drove into her. Muttering in his language, he rotated his hips, driving into her as she lifted her body up against his.
“I wanted to…” He broke off as she buried her fingers into his thick dark hair and brought his head down to meet hers. The climax was powerful and astonishing, sweeping them along in its wake and pushing them to the edge of the cliff and beyond!
Chapter 3
He made sure she was asleep before he climbed off the bed and went into the elegant sitting room. He had dragged on his underwear and put on one of the robes that had been hanging inside the huge closet. Standing at the foot of the bed, he had studied her seductive body sprawled against the silk sheets, her hair spread out against the pillows, almost obscuring her exquisite face. He had felt the stirring of desire and had laughed softly at the hardening of his penis before turning away. He had made love to her three times with insatiable passion that had seemed to increase with each stroke of him inside her. Then she had fallen asleep in his arms.