“Tsk, tsk, tsk, my bella,” he said. Massimo thought about tying the dress around her mouth again as he had moments before. Then he realized he’d let Lex give him lip, during this encounter anyway. He loved a challenge and understood Lex Easton would keep his attention. Assuming she’d be his princess.
Lex’s eyebrows arched in anticipation.
He pushed the head in. A soft purr erupted from her mouth, pulsating against his face’s right side. God, I love her. Massimo brought his lips over hers, inhaling her scent. “I wanted inside you the moment we met.”
“Likewise,” she confessed. His determination didn’t scare her as she lowered her legs.
“Hold on to my shoulders, bella.” He slid in farther as her moans increased, making him thick with the desire to fill her.
“Yes, do it,” Lex cooed. Her hands wrapped tighter around his torso.
“Do not let go ’til I say so,” he instructed, his hardness pressing further inside her.
Lex’s skin felt soft compared to his taut frame.
Massimo noted Lex’s breathing shortened as her rib cage rose and fell to his deep moans. He flexed his arms, bringing his weight over her. Looking down his forearms’ veins reminded him to be gentle. Go slow with her. No matter what she demanded, he’d taken control, and he didn’t want to hurt her. A vulnerable woman remained under a New York steel coating. Massimo’s erect flesh skated into her warmth, and he grunted, “Bella, this is home for me.” He inhaled, taking in her scent as sex filled the room.
Lex’s face glinted hot pink.
“Breathe. Mio amore, breathe.”
“Deeper. Go deeper,” she encouraged, encompassing him with her warm walls. She cried in blissful fits as Massimo impaled her with half his length.
She warmed up.
He’d fuck her harder than he’d ever imagined.
Massimo arched his back, glancing down at their connection. Withdrawing to secure footing, he repositioned as her walls seized his girth. Massimo let her core lead him in an inch at a time.
“Ahhhhhh!” she roared in his ear. Her breath hit his skin in bursts. “I love your dick, you—”
Lex gripped onto her legs, freeing his hands to position his body over her. “Oh, yes. Fuck me!” She aimed her vagina better into action, her spasmodic contractions clamping around him. “I—I’m coming again. Ohhh, yeaaeeoo.” Her excitement shot on his upper legs.
“Principessa, stay still. Perfect, like that.” Massimo drilled down on her, filling her to the highest hilt, his sac slapping against her creamy skin. His cock shoved inside, but not quite all the way.
“Tight, tight, bella. I was certain I’d climax the second I got inside you. You have no idea.” He loved her wetness, testing the limits to see how far he could go. His hips went back and forth. This is it.
“Told you it’d been a while,” she sassed on.
“Bella’s going to get it.” His body heat rose. Massimo studied her face, watching her love him. Each thrust he’d give inched the bed toward the wall with a loud creak.
“More, give me more,” she begged, her back arching as she leaned into him.
“Yeah, principessa.”
“Yeah, Masi.”
“You are ready, bella.”
“Harder!” Her legs fell on his shoulders as he impaled her. She raked her nails over his chest, twisting his nipples. The titty twist game he’d played on her earlier lived as a close memory.
“I am your DJ tonight. I set our beat,” he boasted, reaching for a pillow. He held up her ankles with one hand while sliding the cushion under her lower back with the other.
Spreading her legs wide, she took a deep breath and said, “I love how petite I am in your arms.”
Fingers scissoring over her pussy as he pulled out, he felt Lex’s soaked pubic hair.
Her face begged for more and her core stared back at him, waiting for fulfillment.
“Can you take my entire cock, bella?”
Massimo brought her hips up.
“Do it!”
Akin to his V12 Lamborghini picking up speed, he throttled inside her walls. “So good!” he exclaimed, noting he could no longer tell where her body ended and his began. He revved up for more.
“Yes,” she said, quaking and drowning his cock as her entire body clenched tight around him. “I am coming again. Jesus, fuck!”
Lex is beauty. Lex is love. Lex is mine. “Bellissima.” He dug. Massimo pushed harder as the bedframe knocked the far corner, motivating him to persist.
Her body trembled and spasmed into fits.
It shocked him.
He realized Lex required more. “Ready, principessa?” he asked, but didn’t wait for response as she clenched tight, contracting around his girth. Lex sucked him in. Fucking hungry.
“You want my balls?” he hinted.
“What?” she deadpanned. Her legs lowered to a clear no way.
“Bella, you need a good fill.” He gripped her knees and opened her wide.
“Your dick is more than enough. You’re nuts—as in crazy.” Lex turned her face away from his intent stare.
“Uh-huh, and so are my nuts. Take ’em, bella.” We are just getting started.
“Give me,” she mumbled. Lex gripped her knees.
“I thought as much.” Pumping faster, he gripped his sac in his right hand, shoving his left ball inside.
Her vagina remained receptive.
He thrust once, then twice, testing if he should drop the other inside. “Perfetto,” he confirmed. Massimo finally tucked it into her with a full fold. He moved his pelvis back and forth in a rhythm as if dancing upstairs. Unsure how the position would be for her and him, he hovered over her in a pushup stride. With a gentle force, he thrust his pelvis. “Oh, bella, you are fucking tight,” he moaned.
As with everything with Lex, it was amazing, and from the expression on her face, she agreed. Massimo sunk himself in, pounding harder with his cock and nuts attached.
He heard his own music in his head, an unfamiliar tune. This melody sang as special.
Euphoria. Rapture. Trance.
Massimo’s sweat ran down his forehead as if he’d worked out at the gym. His muscles pumped with his American as he’d first requested, albeit in a different, and much better, form.
“Amazing. You are gloriosa.” Massimo leaned forward, pressing his lips to her forehead. She felt warm, burning up.
“Ohh, my gawd. Don’t you dare come,” Lex spat. She gave his buttocks a spank, signaling him to slow his speed down for fear he’d orgasm.
He didn’t. He couldn’t. Not then. Pump. Pump. Pump.
“Come on, Masi.” She shifted her body under him, teasing him to get rough.
Squeak. Thump. The bed shook along with them.
“Principessa, we wanted this.”
Creak. The cushions fell to the floor.
“Yes.”
“Didn’t imagine I…could orgasm…this many times.” She squinted, trying to climax.
“Almost there,” he muttered. Massimo edged to release, and damned if she didn’t come with him. “Challenging me, bella?” He sped up, inching, his head’s slit ready to fire. “Come on, bella. Come again.”
Unable to catch her breath, she’d grown silent for a minute and then whispered, “I want to remember tonight forever.”
“Want me to slow down?” he quavered. He thought if he could freeze-frame this experience in time, he would. Massimo realized his heart had saved itself for Lex Easton.
“No,” she fussed. Freeing the wet blonde locks from her eyes, she signaled with a nod she wanted more. “Let’s go, Masi!”
“Is this what you wanted?” he asked with a rapid thrust, determined to make her come one more time. He must. She’d leave him the next day, and with their time apart, it’d be weeks until he’d see her again. His attention turned toward her nipples as he sucked on one, then the other while he drilled her pussy hard, inching toward release.
Her walls contracted with force aroun
d him. “You wanna play, Masi?” Her eyes enlarged and he felt her nails digging into his skin. “Just wait.”
“Work your muscles.” Come on, my little over-reactive bella. Remembering she favored sparring, he joked, “You didn’t come here for fabric, mio amore.” He pulled out, teasing her orgasm.
“Fuck you, Masi,” she snapped. Her haze evaporated. “Give me your cock.” Her legs tightened around him.
A big boy smile grew across his face as he boasted, “You came to Isola di Girasoli for me to have you.” He witnessed her come back to life, her usual sassy back talk. He focused on her ass, slipping his hands underneath.
“Do it,” she encouraged.
Pushing a thumb inside her, he prodded, “Love your tight, hot ass.”
She juiced over his cock as he slid his second thumb in, stretching her. “I will straighten your sweet ass out, bella,” he roared. He teased Lex, remembering her anal floor performance. Tighter than her vagina, he massaged her asshole, drilling his cock into her pussy with his nuts close behind.
“Mmm, coming! Ahh! Oh, my fuck.” She moaned louder. Her vagina throbbed around his cock as she screamed in pleasure.
Drive. Impel. Push.
A piercing shriek rose from her gargled howl.
Her vocal ecstasy sounded off, rich and strident.
He withdrew his fingers from her ass, throwing his hands over her mouth to stifle her scream. He felt her orgasmic smile under his palm. “Bella, we are not at home,” he gruffed. Massimo loved hearing her scream bloody murder when she came, convinced the entire Milan Fashion society would wait outside with signs up, scoring them a perfect ten.
Tap. Tap. Tap. He kept pumping.
“Come on my tits.” She cupped her globes together for his climax.
“Shit yeah, my bellissima.” He withdrew fully from her, watching her reluctant queef in his absence. Standing over her, he ripped his condom off, focused on orgasm. Massimo stroked himself, urging a hot brim straight to the tip. Yes. A fire stirred in his belly and his balls prickled. His fingers pruned as sweat dripped off his nose.
He jacked.
He tugged.
He jerked harder.
Massimo pushed himself against the wall beside the bed and shouted, “Coming!” His voice roughened into a man yell, trying to out-vocal her ecstasy as his load erupted through his cock. The first release blasted a few feet, raining below on his Lex.
“Mine.” Her mouth opened wide.
Fisting harder, he shouted, “Fuck!” His second spunk didn’t shoot as far as his first because it was thicker, and the load striped her cheeks with one icing.
Lex’s tongue circled her lips with a grin, lapping his cum.
Frantic to finish, he dropped against the pillows, burying his cock down her ravenous throat as he promised. “I love you, Lex!” He held Lex’s head up, admiring her while she swallowed his orgasm.
She made low “gug, gug, gug” noises. She’d sucked hard as his tip shuddered in raw sensitivity. Every last drop was drained, but Lex kept sucking until his erection subsided. Massaging her breasts, which glistened with his release, she nestled up to him.
“Ti amo,” he whispered. Massimo slid his length back inside, telling her how much he loved her. He envisioned her pregnant for a second, knowing she’d be beautiful.
Exhausted, her body went limp in his arms. She closed her lashes. Her final flutter came over her profile with a smile. “I love you,” she whispered, dropping her head against the pillow. Her mouth parted, showing her perfect white teeth.
Massimo studied her beauty as she inhaled.
She stirred her feet against the sheets and zonked out cold as she exhaled.
He thought about sleeping but couldn’t. Not with the cackling say-so coming from the door’s other side. Massimo had heard those shrill voices before at the Rolex Capri Sailing Week.
Scilla and Ottavia were rousing trouble, as usual.
Lex woke to Massimo’s midnight eyes on her. Allowing him to watch her, she didn’t speak. His assurance radiated all over his face as eagerness for her love. Or at least that was what it felt like. He’s always serious. She fought the urge to roll over and lighten the mood. His love declaration overwhelmed her. She’d waited her whole life for him and Lex became reborn in his adoration. Never making love to anyone as exceptional as Massimo, Lex admitted to herself she’d never made “love” period until that night.
As any jaded New Yorker would, for a mere second she’d questioned his seriousness. But Massimo didn’t speak words he didn’t mean. From what she’d witnessed, his lifestyle embodied playboy, but he wasn’t a player. Her observations from the way he’d treated her that week, to what Jemma and Queen Luciana discussed, told her Massimo remained real. He’d let his guard down, too. He’d let her in. When his walls evaporated, as hers had that night, ecstasy flooded in. It was something she’d hoped for but never expected. She couldn’t dream him up in her mind, but yet he’d come true. A gift.
“How long did we sleep?” she questioned. She didn’t want to leave the room, but New York Fashion Week rang in her head as a reminder. Lex realized she’d be leaving her Masi, her prince, her Massimo Tittoni soon.
His lips planted on hers for a minute, and then he mumbled, “About uno hour, or due or tre.” Clueless to the time, he tapped her butt to get up. He rolled over, stretched his arms, and stood. “Let’s head home, bella.”
“Can you help me?” She stood, examining her wrinkled dress. “I can forget about going back to New York. Jemma’s gonna shoot me the second she sees this dress. I’m dead.” Lex noticed some crystals had popped off. Shit.
“No, she won’t,” he replied. Massimo held her arm, giving her balance as she stepped into the gown, pulling the fabric around her. He zipped her up and added, “Jemma adores you almost as much as I do.”
The once-tight dress hung loose on her body as she smoothed the hemline. Hopeless.
She turned, helping Massimo with his button-down shirt and sports coat. Lex looped his belt around his waist as he slipped on his shoes. “Even with bed-head, you’re hot.” Lex ran her hands over his black curls, trying to get the cowlick down.
“I love you,” he declared. Massimo wrapped his arms around her, squeezing tight. His sentiments weren’t a dream after all.
“I love you, too.” She picked up the pillows from the floor, trying not to get emotional. Keep calm, girl.
“We have everything?” he asked. Taking a glance around the room, he added, “Ready?”
“Yes, sir,” she confirmed as she grabbed his arm. Lex realized she’d not taken her shoes off the entire night. She glanced down at their sparkle. They were the Tabitha Simmons chandelier stilettos Vive had given her for her last birthday. Used in a Debauchery magazine photo shoot, they meant more to her right then. She’d cherish them forever.
He unlocked the door to a black hallway, the lounge music playing acoustic guitar.
Voices came from the front.
Some celebration was taking place. Empty champagne glasses lined the walls, while some were nested in crevices they weren’t intended for. A pocket mirror, cutoff straw and empty baggies shadowing a white powder residue from an eight ball sat next to the trash can.
Cigarette smoke came from a woman ahead. A black bob accentuated her harsh features, her legs spread over a settee. She didn’t wear any underwear. Neither did Lex, but she didn’t spread her legs out in public, acting all Sharon Stone in Basic Instinct.
WTF?
Two men in the corner didn’t notice. Or if they did, they didn’t care. They talked among themselves as their benzo high crashed.
“Let me return the key and pay for a new bed. Be right back.” Massimo stepped up to the front.
Inebriated, the woman caught Lex rubbernecking and opened her legs wide. She pointed her hooker-ific vamp nail in her twat’s direction for a possible invitation.
Yak-o nasty. Lex dipped her head with a no, thank you, but no words came from her lips. For Christ’s s
ake, she actually became speechless.
Taking the rejection, the woman crossed her legs and batted an over-glued lash. Without Massimo noticing, she mumbled zoccola, puttana and troia several times under her breath. Maybe she suffered from Tourette’s syndrome and didn’t realize Lex understood whore and skanky pig in Italian.
“Evening,” Lex said, being cordial but giving her a glare as if to say shut your mouth, honey. The woman stood.
Don’t even try it. Nothing could ruin her perfect night.
She’d kill her with kindness.
Miss Potty Mouth stepped forward, ignored Lex and fussed, “Principe, we waited for you.” She strutted toward Massimo, revealing a gaunt physique, a retired ballerina perhaps.
“Scilla,” Massimo necessitated a courtesy hello then reached for Lex’s hand, his company’s importance highlighted.
The woman’s attention returned back to Lex as she squawked, “Ciao, Signorina Easton. I’m Scilla.” The woman stepped closer and seethed, “Massimo’s former gal. I read about you in the mornin’ paper, no? I have Easton fashions in my closet. I wear ’em when I go to the—how do you say in English—gymnasium, sì.”
Spare me.
“Scilla, don’t start. You’re an acquaintance, nothing more.” Massimo blocked their handshake, signaling Lex shouldn’t waste her time. “We’re on our way out.”
“Nice to meet you, Scilla,” Lex stuck out her hand for a shake to overcome Massimo’s abrupt dismissal. She thought about Scilla and how odd to have a name sound similar to “I’ll kill ya”. She insisted, “Please, call me Lex.” She’d give the girl one more chance to make nice. After all, she’d stood close to Massimo when she arrived at the red carpet. She’d remembered seeing her with a shorter, much uglier woman.
From the far corner, a short, plump shadow stepped up. She’d overheard the banter.
Speak of the devil.
Close to Scilla’s age, she hid her mug behind an exaggerated hairstyle and chided, “Well, well, well. If Scilla ain’t your dame, Your Majesty, then, uh, what am I?” Her dull, uncommunicative eyes exuded a phony curiosity, one Lex had grown up with.
Eddie Easton wrote a song about women such as these two once, titled Sandman’s Witching Hour. The power ballad skyrocketed as his first platinum hit in the United States, winning two Grammys and eventually being ranked by Metal Music magazine as the twelfth best nineties song. The lyrics, which Lex understood but not even Birdie deciphered, honored his groupies and whores. It was about the women he screwed in his motor coach, playing his guitar from Toronto to Miami, and Boston to Seattle. Lex despised the song even more than Birdie’s Lucifer’s Mistress.