Indiscretions - Elizabeth Adler [14]
“Tell me,” she whispered, “tell me, Amadeo, how you like this dress … it’s a sexy dress, isn’t it, Amadeo? All my designs are like that, that’s why they’ll be so successful.”
Amadeo slid his hand across her gray silk breast. She was still talking about her designs, about this damned dress, when all he wanted to do was rip it off her. He hadn’t felt like this in a long time, not even Olympe had done this to him lately. His erection was hard as a rock and throbbing as if it couldn’t wait.
Paris laughed when he pressed himself against her; she felt high on excitement, turned on by the promise of the dazzling future that awaited her now that Amadeo approved her designs and would give her credit. Perhaps he’d do more; she might even persuade him to become her business partner. Amadeo’s fingers tempted her nipples through the silk and his mouth came down hard on hers. There was no doubt what Amadeo Vitrazzi wanted in return. Paris leaned back a little to allow the dress to slide from her shoulders, watching with detachment as his dark head sank onto her breast, feeling the first blast of sexual excitement hit her as his tongue found her nipples. And why not? she thought. If this is what he wants in return, then he’ll have it—and it’ll be the best he’s had in a long time. You’re not going to forget this, Amadeo. Pulling herself from his embrace she stepped back from him, smiling.
Amadeo tugged off his jacket.
“Wait,” commanded Paris.
Amadeo waited eagerly as Paris stepped out of the pale green satin French knickers. My God, look at her, wasn’t she the most sexily elegant woman alive, posing there naked but for her high-heeled shoes? My God, if he didn’t have her quickly this might turn out to be a disaster instead of a success…. What now? She was walking slowly toward him, her hands caressing her own body, hesitating on her nipples, drifting lightly over the dark inviting triangle of hair. Amadeo unfastened his belt.
“Wait.” Paris took his hand and placed it there, on the soft springy dark triangle, smiling at him while his fingers curved between her legs.
He couldn’t stand it, he had to have her. Amadeo tugged at his zipper once more, hearing Paris’s teasing laughter as she leaned closer and began to unbutton his shirt.
“Wait, Amadeo, wait,” she murmured in his ear, “let me do it for you.”
First the shirt, carefully folded and placed across the chair, then the trousers urged lingeringly down over his erection. She still hadn’t touched him, she was going so slowly, taking her time, tantalizing him. Amadeo had never wanted any woman so much in his life. Ah, ah, that was it.
Paris knelt in front of him and slowly, slowly, slid her hands across his belly. “Oh, Amadeo,” she breathed admiringly, “Oh, Amadeo … now you don’t have to wait any longer.” Her black silken hair was soft against his thighs as she leaned over him, and her mouth was even softer. Amadeo’s fingers knotted in her hair as the long orgasm rushed through him—he couldn’t wait, he couldn’t hold back any longer.
He lay back drained, but Paris Haven’s voice was silkily coaxing while her hands moved across his body. Amadeo opened his eyes and met her dark blue intense gaze.
“Wait, Amadeo, just you wait, that was only the beginning.”
His body was nice, she thought, straddling him. He was lean and smooth and tanned, and he was almost ready for her … it could have been worse.
Jenny Haven’s daughter was selling herself.
ROME
India was lucky again. The space on the corner across from the Paroli Studios was just big enough to squeeze in her tiny red Fiat, or almost. The front stuck out just a little, but not enough to matter. India slammed the door cheerfully and slung the satchel over her shoulder. Bending quickly she checked her face and tidied her hair in the offside mirror. She smoothed her black skirt and pulled down the scarlet sweater that wrapped