Passion Patrol 2 - a Sexy Police Romance Suspense Novel With a Touch of Humor: Hot Cops. Hot Crime. Hot Romance. (21 page)

“So we’re both fools not to know that such a thing could happen,” she said. “I’ve been fighting it because I couldn’t believe anyone else was as crazy as me.”

The door had opened and they had charged headlong into a new space. She hugged his waist as his arms folded her in to him. Her mind raced ahead. What was was the destination of this love?

“Before I said it, it was the most difficult thing on earth to say. Now I’ve let it out, it’s the only thing I can say,” he said.

“If I love you then it’s total, my hugga-bear. There’s no way back from love or murder. The jealous beast is out.”

“Jealous of a man like me?” he said smiling.

“Grrrrrr,” she replied.

“I wouldn’t want any other kind of love.”

“There is no other kind of love,” she said.

They were at the Rialto Bridge. They clung together in a kiss, oblivious of its magnificence. The launch had cut its engine and was coasting. There were only their words.

“My man.”

“My woman.”

A building rose above them as the boat nudged the mooring.

“This is the Palazzo Coccolare,” he said.

“Cock-o-lah-ray,” she repeated. “Sono Signora Ag-Where-ee from the Palazzo Cock-o-lah-ray.”

“That’s brilliant, you say it beautifully.”

“I don’t want to get lost and not know the address.”

She stepped out onto a stone platform that led up to a monster iron-grilled door. He steadied her arm as the door opened.

“Eccellenza—e Contessa, buona sera, che piacere,” said a dark-haired woman in a maid’s uniform.

“Antonella, e stato un lungo tempo,” said Spencer in obviously fluent Italian.

Shannon smiled as they entered the magnificent marble-floored hall.

“Dottore Ceccarelli non e qui ma la vostra suite e pronta per voi.”

“Grazie, Antonella,” said Shannon, exhausting her Italian vocabulary in one go.

The maid beamed and spoke to Spencer, squeezing his hand joyfully.

“Eccellenza—che bellezza, che felicita.”

A young man in an elegant gray suit picked up their bags and carried them to a lift. He bowed as the doors closed.

“You speak Italian?” he asked.

“Nah, I had a quick run round Google while I was waiting for the car. Sounds like you’re a pro.”

“Tourist level. We used to come here as children.”

“Whose palace is this?”

“It belongs to Dottore Ceccarelli. He’s my father’s cousin. He’ll be showing you the sights tomorrow.”

The wood paneled art deco lift juddered to a stop. He drew back the lattice gate and pushed open the door. She gasped at the sight before her. The floor was a burnished dark wood. A splendorous chandelier hung from a ceiling painted with cherubs, horses, and people in magnificent robes. She stood staring up. The illusion was of a dome rising almost forever. For her, this was an absolute first.

“Did my jaw drop?” she said.

“It is a show-stopper isn’t it? It’s by Tiepolo. He did it in 1720 for one of my ancestors, La Duchesse Feronese. She was the lover of both Louis XV of France and Cassanova. This is really a sketch. The full work is in the throne room at the royal palace of Madrid.”

Her eyes took in the deep red walls hung with massive gilt-framed mirrors. Crimson velvet buttoned chairs and a sofa formed the seating. In the center of the room was a beautiful wooden antique table, so deeply polished that it appeared to glow. Curtains in red and gold brocade swept down from the ceiling to frame open doors leading to a balcony.

“I’m just overwhelmed,” she said.

“Not by me I hope.”

“You’ll always be Spence the welder in sexy overalls to me, but all this stuff....”

“That’s all it is my love. I was born to stuff and titles. We’re all just mortal flesh and ideas.”

“Stuff is trouble. More stuff is more trouble. That’s what my dad says.”

“Then he’s a wise man.”

“And a poor one,” she said, not looking for an answer.

He had put down the bags and turned to her. Her heart raced as she looked into his eyes. For the first time she was seeing this man whom she loved as the man who loved her and risked that soft underbelly of his love. He pulled her to him and kissed her hungrily, almost masterfully. His strong arms held her to him, his hand behind her pressing her groin to his powerful body. She felt a tingle of pleasure and closed her eyes, feeling his lips and tongue with hers in a fusion of erotic emotion. Her heart sang in her chest. This man she adored had said he loved her. Over and over she let the words play in her mind. If the sun fell from the sky at this moment she would at least have reached the peak of human joy.

“You must see the view,” he said.

He led her to the balcony, his arm possessive around her waist. Below them the dark waters lapped against the steps of the palazzo. Mellow lighting danced in reflections on the Grand Canal. Gondolas and a vaporetto water bus flowed by. He had moved a little behind her, his big hands almost encircling her waist. His lips touched her neck. A sigh of pleasure rustled every leaf of joy in her body. She felt his deep voice in his chest as he spoke.

“I love you.”

He pulled her waist back to press against him. She could feel the strength of his arousal. He wanted her and that wanting thrilled her. She let her soul flow into the lapping water and her heart beat with the oars of the gondoliers. In this place beauty was a lust that could be satisfied. The most beautiful thing was their love and lust was its mortal life. She swiveled round to face him and clasped his cheeks, bringing his lips to hers. She held tightly and looked into his brown eyes.

“I love you so much Spencer. Don’t hurt me,” she said, the final words jumping out uninvited. She had never meant to reveal that fear. No one had ever held such a power over her.

“I’ll never hurt you.”

“I know,” she said.

The apartment was spectacular. A dressing room and genuine marble bathroom led off from the carpeted bedroom. The bed was antique Venetian walnut with covers of a deep cream satin.

“I need to clean up,” she began, staring at the bath. It appeared to be a one-piece bowl of black and gray flecked marble big enough for four people.

“It’s wonderful, isn’t it? They had to put in steel girders to take the weight.” He opened the tap. “Fabio, the owner, wanted something very special for a very special guest.”

“How special can you be?”

“Let’s say for instance, a desperate princess in a loveless life. Maybe she found true love here. I can’t say more because of course no such thing happened,” he said with a tweak of his brow.

She shook her head. These things were hard to take in.

“This is another world to someone like me. This is like being the ink on the page of a celebrity magazine—as if I’m in the story.”

“Shannon, the North Peckham Estate has its stories and secrets too. Royals and aristocrats are no different and certainly no better.

“Thank goodness for that,” she said with a knowing wink. Still watching him she began to undress. She knew she had his attention. She was fit, with a skin of deep olive silk that he longed for. She brushed her hands down over her white bra. He swallowed as his lust rose. She unhooked it and let it fall to reveal her aroused nipples. She was boiling him with desire. How she loved this. How long would he hold back? She could hear his breathing becoming more urgent and irregular. She held his eyes brazenly and slid her hand down to her panties, slipping inside to touch her sex.

“Shannon, for pity’s sake woman, you’ll make me come just looking at you,” he gasped.

“I’m a naughty minx aren’t I? I’m a naughty girl when I think of you,” she said, shamelessly fixing her gaze on his groin.

He swallowed hard and almost desperately undid his belt to free his hard upright cock. She saw at once that the tip was glistening wet with his juice. His seed was bursting to release into the heat of her belly. The sight of his desire shot a thrill through her. She had stopped her own touch but maybe she’d traveled too far. She’d only meant to fire his desire. She closed her eyes. A slight unstoppable tremor had begun. Suddenly he was kneeling in front of her. He pulled her panties aside and kissed a crashing wave of love from her nub and lips. She bent over him as his hot tongue licked her button to pulses of oblivion.”

“My angel, my angel,” he groaned into her flesh.

His lips were on her as if in the most tender searching for her soul, finding her sexual joy answering his gentle love and desire for her. She was helpless as he drew up her pleasure from her well of love for him, her convulsing cries thrilling him as the fruit of his touch. He kissed her stomach and stood, taking her in his arms. She could feel the ruthless steel of his cock pressing against her. She reached down and took it, desperate for him inside her. He sensed her desire as he lifted her, allowing her to wrap her legs around his waist. Then he filled her. She squealed as he entered. Orgasm engulfed her, mastering her will and being. His strength was unwavering. She was a weightless toy in his tireless arms. He kissed her lips as his movements beat in time with the rhythm of her need. He held his control, almost watching her. He was smiling and had still not released. He was showing her the power of his own teasing. She had surrendered to abandoned bliss. Before his own touch of the summit, he was taking in the view. The view was her joy that she helplessly spread before him.

“My turn to make you savor your desire, my beautiful temptress,” he said, lifting her from him and to her feet like a child. “We can’t waste the bath.”

They slipped into the smooth warm water. He was still erect. She moved to hold it. He pulled away with a laugh.

“My turn to tease,” he said.

“Spencer—I want it!’

“You’ll get it my love. But first you get some tender care.”

He picked up a small curved colored glass bottle. He pulled out the stopper and poured some oil into the palm of his hand. A scent of wonderful roses filled her senses. He slid behind her and began to massage the oil into her back and shoulders. His powerful hands slid under her arms to her breasts. The first tickle of no return zizzed in her nub. His cock was hard against her back.

“You feel desire, my lovely woman?”

“Yes,” she said, the deepness of his voice and the command of his hands  taking her over. She tried to say more but she became nothing but a voice groaning in sobs of pleasure. He was holding her as she flew with him.

“You remember when we were by the lake when we exchanged our ages. I fell for you in that very second. You said you wanted to give of yourself whatever I gave of myself. Can you remember the scent of lime and the breeze? Think of that moment of first love now.”

His hand slipped to her groove and moved sensuously to her clitoris. He soothed her lips against the soft woman love of her as he spoke.

“I remember your blue eyes and your smile....”

Her mind filled with the memory and of him, his maleness and deep brown eyes. Irresistible throbs of orgasm blended with the beauty of that day in her mind. A mental link between the abandon of sexual release and the powerlessness of the mind before the beauty of nature formed in her mind. The love from this man brought harmony which allowed her to see into some transcendental void of consciousness.

“I have a little mission,” he said.

He stepped out and held out a gloriously warm luxury towel. He patted her dry, lifted her and carried her to the bed.

“Lie down. Let me see your skin against the cream satin. I want a photo for my soul,” he said.

He toweled himself and looked at her. His eyes were warm with emotion. “I can’t believe you are mine and will be mine.”

He joined her on the bed, reached under the pillow and eased her up to a sitting position.

“Close your eyes.”

His lips kissed her back and neck. Something cold touched her chest.

“Voilà. Eccoci qua,” he said, getting up and standing back to look at her.

Glancing down she could see the unmistakable sparkle of diamonds and some slightly darker stones. She sprang from the bed and went to a mirror.

“My God, my God.” She was staring at the most beautiful piece of jewelry she had ever seen.

“What is it?”

“It’s a necklace.”

“Duh!’

“It’s white gold with pear-shaped rose diamonds.”

“It’s so lovely.”

“It is, now it’s on you.”

She stared at herself naked, the diamonds sparkling against her dusky skin.

“Can I keep it on?”

“Of course,” he said as he led her back to the bed and lay beside her. He raised himself on an elbow and softly kissed her lips. His other hand circled her belly teasing at the top of her groove. Then he touched her more deeply, his kiss drawing up her longing for him. She was already letting go. She pressed her hand over his, urging his hand down to open her. She felt the excited surge of his cock against her side as he explored her wetness. She thrilled him. How she loved his deep groan as he found her entrance. She knew now he couldn’t stop. His broad muscular shoulders were above her. She opened herself to him as he filled her. She could feel the relentless hard heat of his need. Her own tremor began as he quickened. She pulled his flexing buttocks to her, willing him to let go into the depth of her.”