Mia Dolce (5 page)

“My goodness.” Reggie feigned a shiver. “And did they have
any children?”

“Two sons. Six daughters.”

“So it seems his wife never did him in?” Reggie walked
forward to admire the mirror, her image waving in the fading silver.

“No, she grew to love him. And the mirror served as a means
to enjoy each other from many vantage points.”

“Your family history is rife with men who loved their wives
quite well,” she noted, reminding herself to put no stock in past dukes’
actions as prelude to the present duke’s tendencies.

“Yes, once they found the one they cared for, there was
never anyone else for either. The result was many children, long lives, many
riches.”

Initial comfort to any woman who loves you—and dares to
hope you could love her in return
.
But any assumption such as that would
be folly. Folly, Reggie.

She spun toward the chaise and let one hand drift over the
deeply etched red brocade. “And the story that goes with this?”

“A sadder tale. One of Napoleon’s nieces and the current
duke fell in love. They became betrothed and she came to the
castello
often. He had the couch built for them both.
Seductione
, they laughingly
named the piece, which was an irony, you see, because neither had to seduce the
other. They were, as so many of the Avantis’ marriages, a match made in heaven.
They married but she was already pregnant and two months after the wedding, she
gave birth to a son but she died from the labor days later. The duke kept the
couch.”

“Did he marry again?”

“No. Which was a problem that his staff warned him about. If
his only son and heir died, the title and the estates would become plums ripe
for neighbors’ picking. The security of the countryside and the city would be
in jeopardy. Warfare might well ensue—and this area has too often seen more
wars than god should allow. Avanti dukes and their retainers have kept this
area free of war—and built a prosperous community for centuries. Avanti dukes
are the only ones to have a direct line of succession since 1011. But,” Sergio
indicated the room with the sweep of one hand, “the current duke refused to
take another woman to wife—or to his bed. His son survived, found a woman he
adored and they had four sons.” Sergio smiled tenderly.

Reggie beamed at him. “An enchanted tale. How wonderful to
know these men and women are your family.”

“It is a challenge to each duke to emulate his ancestors.”
Sergio stared at her, his eyes falling from hers to her lips, her breasts and
her hips. “We love one woman—and love her well. And for the rest of her life,
she is the cherished duchess of her husband.”

Reggie’s throat filled with emotion, and yet she murmured,
“I feel an enormous reverence for a family who could hold to that tradition and
rapture through centuries of war and peace, disaster and prosperity. And yet I
am not even a member of the family. How wonderful to be the head of it.”

His mouth curved in appreciation for her words. “And an
enormous challenge to find one woman to love beyond all others—and all reason.”

“Yes.” She walked forward into his arms and kissed him
lightly on the cheek. “Show me the rest of the castle, darling. I cannot get
enough of your stories.”

He wrapped her close to him and kissed her on her nose. “We
will return here. You for a nap while I work, but now,” he took her hand and
headed for the hall, “the room you have been waiting for.”

She grinned at him. “I do hope we are speaking of the
kitchen?”

They threaded their way through countless rooms until
finally he flung one door wide. She stood on the threshold, unable to move for
the beauty of the place. Bright, white and new, the kitchen was a modern cook’s
paradise. Cabinets from floor to ceiling, three large fans whirling above,
vents to circulate the air. Stainless steel refrigerators and freezers, a red
wine rack white wine refrigerator, plus two huge stoves and ovens completed the
appliances. In the center of the room stood two long islands, one of wood, the
other of granite. Upon one stood a silver ice bucket filled with white wine and
beers, beside it a bottle of red wine, uncorked to breathe, and beside that, a
large tray of olives, grapes and cheeses, breads and salami. All this, she took
to be their lunch.

Reggie broke away from Sergio, enthralled with the spacious
beauty of the place. “I have never,” she said in awe, “seen anything so lovely.
Sergio, it is divine.”

He watched her as if he meant to memorize her moves, her
words. “You truly like it?”

She spun around, arms out like a dervish. “Oh darling, it is
a dream. What shall we cook?”

He arched a brow, his look salacious—and long suffering.
“Pasta, pork, tiramisu. Hunt the pantry and the refrigerators. You decide.”

“Hmmm,” she mused, and rubbed her hands, teasing him
unmercifully, postponing for merely seconds her need to have him fuck her.
Hopefully here—and now. “When shall we cook?”

“Now if you must.” He chuckled as he advanced on her like a
marauder. “But first, you must remove those clothes. The staff is gone,
bella
.
And I,” he pulled a string of condoms from his trouser pocket to show her, “am
hungry.” He twirled an index finger at her. “And I know we both need to be
refreshed.”

She attacked one button of her silk blouse. “Is this an old
Avanti custom to make love in the kitchen?”

“If it isn’t, I declare it so now.” He watched her fingers
work with hot intent. “Ah, there, you are so slow you torture me, Regina, not
to let me see the breasts I love.”

She shook back her hair so that none covered her breasts.
Then she preened, shrugging out of one arm of her blouse but leaving the other
draped over her full and aching nipple. The bare one she lifted, pointed it
toward him and pinched herself. She gave a little moan and watched his
complexion turn deep red.

“Take that blouse off completely. You are killing me, you
know?” He licked his lips and lifted his chin toward her. And when she let the
cloth fall to the floor, he murmured, “The skirt now,
cara
.”

She went slowly, loving the look of his infatuation with
her. Would she remember this when she was alone and lonely in her apartment
next week and the next…and the next? She twirled away from him, more to hide
her rush of tears than to seduce him, but that was the power she had to
entertain him now—and by god she would use it to both their benefits. So she
unclasped the button of her skirt and shimmied out of the scrap of material.
Then she turned to face him, her hands going to her pussy, spreading her thighs
wide and combing her thick curls for him. “Want a taste of anti-pasti,
darling?” She sank a finger inside her cunt and she closed her eyes at the feel
of herself. “I am very juicy. Want to come and see how much I yearn for you?”

She no sooner had the words out her mouth than he was there,
bending her backward in his arms and devouring her nipples, growling in
contentment. And she was drowning in the rush of cream that let down when he
nibbled her areolas one by one then sent two blunt fingers up inside her cunt.

“I need more,” he ground out, and suddenly her world was
horizontal as he caught her up in his arms and carried her to the granite
island. Cold and hard to her back, the harsh feel of the counter was soon
obliterated by the savage feast Sergio made of her labia. He put her to the
island, her pussy at the edge of the board—and just high enough to let him have
full access to her cunt, her swollen, begging breasts and the feel of his
talented tongue as he laved her from vagina to clitoris in long, forceful
swathes. “You are so pink,
cara
,” He sucked her clit, plumping her up to
give him greater access to her bud. “So sweet.” He inserted two demanding
fingers in her cunt and pumped her, making her arch. He pressed a hand to her
stomach and forced her down. “No, you cannot come without me,
bella
. I
need you mad for me.”

“Oh but I am, Sergio. Darling, I am.” She bucked and moaned.

Then he pressed something to her lips. “Sustenance. Eat.” An
olive.

She licked it and his fingers then chewed the little olive.
She told him to get her another.

This time he fed her a grape. And another.

“The wine,” she instructed him, and he briefly left her cold
and lonely to pour a glass. He inserted two fingers into her cunt then dipped
them in the wine. He took a sip and lifted the glass to her lips. “You must
taste this brew, my sweet,” he told her. “This is my favorite nectar.”

“If you keep on this way,” she told him, chuckling, “we will
die of malnutrition.”

“Ah. So wonderful to die with your cream on my lips and my
fingers.”

She reached down to press him through his trousers. “I would
prefer to die with your cock inside me.” She searched for a hold on his zipper.
“Do you think you might grant me that favor, my duke?”

And so he undid his zipper, stepped out of his trousers and
tore open a condom. She watched him roll it on his huge blue-veined rod, her
mouth watering to have him. Then he stepped forward and in one smooth claim,
drove his impressive girth deeply inside her. The height of the island seemed
ideal, the angle of his penis filling her, incomparable. His lips sucked her
nipples into his mouth as he pumped her to delight and shouted when he gave in
to his own.

And at the end they lay there, his warm body recovering atop
hers, his cock still filling her with joy. Filling her with recognition of one
fact—she loved him. She knew it now. She loved his humor, his intellect, his
heritage. She loved his artfulness in bed. His care of her. And when this
interlude was over in a few days and she went home, she would go, loving him.

So now she resolved to spend the next few days tutoring
herself in the even more difficult art of total enjoyment, no strings attached.
Whatever he wanted, she would do. Wherever he led, she would go. She loved him.
And there was no other joy she had ever expected with a lover. No other ecstasy
she had ever had with a lover to compare.

Compared
to that, what was her middle-class dictum
that lovers had to mate and marry? That love and lovers were forever?

She woke the next morning viewing the hot yellow sun
streaming in the doors to the balcony. She stretched wide, arms flung out on
the impossibly wide bed. She and Sergio had put it to good use last night, watching
themselves in the antique mirror as his cock claimed her, her pink pussy
glistening with succulent desire for him.

She rolled over now, the bed empty of him but filled with
the memories of how carefully he had taken her here, not once but twice. And
that was after they had loved on the sumptuous chaise.
Seductione
was so
unnecessary to this man. She inhaled, loving his unique musk he’d left on the
linens—and pushing back the dread of leaving him.

He emerged now from the bathroom—and she caught her breath
at the sight of him. Naked, tanned and sleek as the panther on the crest at the
gates, he strode toward her, his penis lax but still so impressive. The man
came from a long line of excellent lovers who knew how to please their
women—and had a formidable set of equipment to do so.

“What makes you smile, my queen?” He came to sit beside her,
one hand caressing her throat.

“You,” she murmured, and beckoned him with puckered lips. “I
am so fortunate.”

He bent to kiss her lips. “No less than I, my dearest.” He
inserted a thumb inside her lips and licked his own in contemplation. “But I
must leave you this morning to your own devices. I must consult with the
chemists in the pasta factory and then a conference call with my lawyer in New
York.”

“Again? The one you saw yesterday?” she asked.

“Yes, I have a few things to tell him. I will be down at the
office in the city. But I will be home as soon as I can.” He pulled down the
sheet to expose her breasts and filled his hand with one globe. “My god, how I
will miss you,” he whispered, and leaned over to suck a nipple like a greedy
baby.

She sighed and pouted peevishly. “You cannot tease me like
this and leave me alone.”

“Mmm,” he turned to lave her other breast with his scorching
tongue, “I know it is torture. But I have a small solution.” He straightened.
“Want to try?”

“Oh yes.” She knew she sounded like an eager child. “I love
your ideas. What?”

He drew a finger down her torso to her pussy. His fingers
tangled in her hair. “Remember you asked me if I had toys?”

She clamped her legs together in anticipation, trapping a
few of his fingers against her. “Yes. What do you have?”

He went to the bureau and returned to display three silver
balls, strung together by rounded silver ribbon. “From my ancestor, the duke
who helped to fund the expedition of Marco Polo. Chinese love balls.”

“Marco Polo, why am I not surprised?” Her eyes, she was
certain, danced as she examined his possession. “How do they work?”

He smiled slowly, straddling her form on the bed. His long
cock began to rise before her to display the beauty of his dangling testicles,
large and full. He sat back on his haunches so as not to crush her and then
began to caress her hips. “First,
mia regina
, I will make you very wet.”
He parted her labia and she undulated.

“You are torturing me.”

“No,
cara
, never. Only to make you drip cream for
me.” He parted her swollen lips, heavy now with want of him and then he ran one
finger, two, three fingers inside her.

“Almost,” she purred, “your fingers have almost filled me.”

He took his member in hand and, without benefit of condom,
he ran himself deeply inside her. She arched with the giant probe that had her
walls pounding for more of him. She grabbed for his arms but he eluded her and
withdrew from her cunt. “No,
bella
,” he kissed her briefly as she
whimpered. “We want you so aroused that these,” she felt his fingers push one
cold, round ball up her cunt and sit at the base of her cervix, “slide in
easily.”

She gasped.

“What do you think?” he asked against her mouth as he slid
in the other.

“I—definitely—love Marco Polo’s gift to your ancestor.”

Sergio sputtered with laughter. “Darling, you are
incomparable.”

“So I leave this inside me?”

“Of course. Only I may remove them or insert them. You are
not to touch my cat,” he warned with mock severity and winked at her. To
illustrate, he tugged on her pussy hair then on the one ball hanging by the
ribbon down between her wanton lips.

The pull had her bucking. She rubbed her thighs together and
felt the damnably delicious shock of the smooth ball dangling with a heavy
weight between her lips toward the base of her cunt. She clamped a hand to her
labia. “Sergio, darling, you cannot expect me to wear this until you return.”

“Ah, but I do. You wanted to be thrilled by all I have to
offer. This is one those offerings,
cara
. Come, stand up.” He offered
her his hand and she rose, carefully putting one foot then the other on the
carpet.

She swooned with the feel of the heavy balls inside her
vagina, the roll as she stood and then, dear god, the power of the other ball,
hanging now straight down between her tender, swollen labia. To walk would be
luscious torture. “It’s becoming warmer with my body heat and driving me
insane.”

Sergio took her in his arms and steadied her on her feet.
“Let yourself enjoy it. You will come many times—and I can only hope you will
want me all the more when I return.” His dark eyes gleamed with expectation.

She circled her arms around his shoulders and kissed him.
“You must hurry with that lawyer. Besides he is probably very expensive. And
you will need to save yourself to come home to me.”

Sergio laughed and caught her up. His fingers cupping her
ass and, for the first time in more than a day, he inserted one fingertip into
her tiny hole that he had trained to take him. “When I return, we will fuck all
you wish for as many times as you wish.”

She bit her lower lip, barely able to express her physical
delight with his finger delving more deeply in her ass. That, plus the two
balls in her vagina made her crazy, ready to explode with an orgasm. “I think I
will scream if you do not fuck me now, Sergio.”

He laughed heartily now, the wretched man. “Scream, my
darling. There is no one to hear you.”

“Ohhhhh!” She punched his chest with one weak fist as he
lifted her and took her to the couch.

There he laid her down and rose above her so that his rigid,
blue-veined cock was before her mouth. “I too will miss you, darling. See how
much I would like to fuck you now?” His thumb rolled her lower lip down. “Put
your mouth around me to show me how much you will miss me.”

She smiled into his eyes and took his cock into her mouth.
He was perfumed with her musk and she savored the taste as she licked his
member down toward the root as far as she could manage. She kissed him and
laved his hot length, sipping the salty-sweet pre-cum dripping from his slit.
And just as he arched, grunting in delight, she prepared to take him to full
enjoyment but he pulled away, panting heavily and leaving her maddeningly
bereft.

“For both of us,” he bent to speak against her mouth,
“tonight will be divine.”

And then he rose, walked into the bathroom, shut the door
and left her there to rub her thighs together and smile that her need of him
grew by exponential measures. He was demanding and inventive—and she could
match him.

When he emerged from the bathroom minutes later, his cock
was lax once more and she considered him coyly. “Lucky for you, you may walk
around like that. Whereas I will feel your lack in my pussy with every step I
take.”

He nodded and came to kiss her quickly. “Because my penis is
not up at the moment does not mean that I do not think of you—and want you. But
when I return, I promise to make amends for my absence. In the meantime, the
castle is yours. Enjoy it. The gardens. The pool. The terrace. All but the
cellars. They are locked. Only for me to show you. But know that when I return
today I will love you until you tell me to stop.”

She cupped his handsome face. “My dear man, I have no
intention to tell you that. You may hurry off to work now, secure in the
knowledge that when you return, I will want you ’til I die.”

“My hope exactly.” He kissed her and walked toward his
dressing room. “
Ciao, bella
,” he said and then he disappeared.

* * * * *

She did take advantage of the offer to roam the house.
Naked, the decadent balls rolling inside her and teasing her to maddening
delight, she made herself a breakfast of the leftover pasta they had made last
night from scratch. The recipe was her own and Sergio had declared he had never
had its equal. Taking a piece of chevre cheese, she wandered out to the pool
but had to pause to feel the power of an orgasm roll over her. As she sat
sunning in the morning breeze, absorbing the beauty of the hills of the Chianti
region, she was fiendishly tempted to masturbate herself to quick fulfillment.
But she honored Sergio’s desire that she not touch herself. Grinding her teeth
in frustration, she decided to swim a few laps then relaxed in the hot tub.
Over and over she felt the pulsing of her hot channel and on more than one
occasion she had to put a palm to her pubic bone to groan with the power of her
need for his cock. But she was good—and eventually, she needed a new diversion.
And the glories of the castle beckoned.

She spent most of the morning marveling at the oils and
sculptures in the gallery. Her knowledge of period furniture came in handy too
as she strolled the dining room, a riot of sixteenth-century baroque. Then the
living room, a mix of velvets in red and purple on the sleek Napoleonic Empire
settees and chairs.

By one, she was ready for lunch, wondering what kept Sergio
and so she returned to the kitchen. The Chinese balls she could live with, she
decided if she kept her mind occupied after enjoying thoroughly every throbbing
orgasm they offered. And so she explored the wealth of items in the castle’s
pantry. Within a few minutes she had found ingredients that allowed her to make
her own recipe for spinach-stuffed ravioli. She chose one long, white apron
from the collection hanging on the pantry hook, wrapped the sash around her
bare body and got to work.

She was cutting the pasta into square lacey-edged pillows
when she felt two strong arms steal around her and a set of hot lips brand her
nape.

“You missed me?” He nuzzled her ear.

“Ah, not too much,” she lied, and continued to cut her
pasta.

“Witch!” he complained, and turned her in his arms. “I work
all day and you insult me.”

She laughed softly. “I work all day and you have not loved
me yet!” She rubbed her thighs together so that he could feel her movement
against him.

He clutched her close. “But I am hungry.”

“Ah!” she knew she sounded like a disgruntled housewife,
“demanding men!”

“What have you got for me,
bella
?” He gazed at her
with molten eyes, his hands drifting down the apron and cupping her breasts
through the fabric.

“Oranges,” she told him.

“Really? Where?”

“In the tiramisu. Orange zest.”

“I see.” He glanced at the disarray of utensils and
ingredients on the island. “And what else?”

“Garlic in the spinach.” She wiggled her brows at him. “Want
a taste?”

“After I taste this,” he crooned, and bent to lick flour
from her chest just above the apron bodice.

She closed her eyes at his tenderness and her cunt creamed
for him while the dangling ball tormented her wet labia. “You may taste all you
want but I must have you fast and now. You said you would.” Her eyes flashed
open and she stared at him with determination. “You must give me my due.”

He pressed her close. “As you command. Where would you like
this fuck, my queen?”

“In the chair in the foyer.”

“So far away?” he taunted her.

She narrowed her eyes on him. “Now! Come!” She took a step
away and nearly buckled at the titillation of the Chinese balls.

But he caught her up. “No more walking for you,” he said,
his lips to her forehead. “I will fuck you gladly.” He strode through his house
like a man on a march—and in the foyer he put her on the chair, pressed wide
her legs then lifted them up over the massive arms of the chair and put his
lips to her pussy. “First, I will eat you—and then—”

“
No!”
she demanded, her hands cupping his flushed
face. “Take the damn balls out. And fuck me.”

Instead, the infuriating man stood, removed his clothes and
let them pool on the marble floor. Naked, he was the picture of sexual
aggression, that big red rod of his making her whimper for his possession. Then
he bent, took something from his pocket that clearly was not a condom but an
object she had never seen.

“What is that?” she barked at him.

“One more pleasure,” he told her, and displayed a small
black item. “Before I take the balls out, you will enjoy this! Let me eat you
first.”

She scowled at him. “Why?”

“You will love this if first you are as creamy as a peach.”

Petulant, she retorted, “I already am so wet your cock will
swim inside me and I will have no satisfaction whatsoever!”

His black eyes gleamed with sexual intent. “Let me try,
bella
.
Here…” and he sank to his knees and rolled the black round object all around
her labia. “We’ll get this wet for your sweet little hole.” Then he put his
mouth to her swollen, tender labia and kissed her clitoris. His talented
fingers slid the string aside as he nipped at her bud with his teeth then
delved inside her cunt with a fierce tongue. He pierced her with it and she
came at once with a rolling delight that had her thrashing her head against the
wood.

“No more, no more,” she insisted, her fingers in his hair.

“
Si, bella
, this…” And then he lifted her, let her
sink against him, and into her ass he inserted the wet black item that was a
deliciously intoxicating plug.