Page 23 of The Virgin’s Dance with the Devil (The Martinelli Wedding #3)

Chapter Twelve

Marisa had managed to bag ‘their’ Bali bed, the one closest to the sea, which, even with the drapes open, was positioned to feel like the only Bali bed on the beach.

Stripped to her bikini, she was engrossed in The Heart’s Invisible Furies, a book that had already made her laugh and cry even if she did struggle with some of the translated Irish terms, when her phone pinged.

She snatched it up and her heart did a dance to read Rico’s message: On my way xx

Figuring it would be quicker to go to the bar than ring the bell, she hurried over and ordered a couple of cocktails, deciding to hang around while they were made.

On her way back, she noticed the drapes were closed on all the other Bali beds and experienced a frisson between her legs to imagine what the lovers hidden behind them were doing. It was a thought she would never have allowed herself to have only days ago.

She sat back on the bed, sipping her mojito, and dreamily wondered how many of the lovers around her were napping, how many had their noses to their phones, how many were talking and how many were pleasuring each other .

When she’d arrived earlier, she’d followed a beautiful, glamorous couple down the path, watched them close the drapes of their bed, and had just known they were going to make love.

There had been something about the woman’s confidence that had made Marisa think she would be the one to instigate it, a thought that had filled her with envy even while the spot between her legs had burned.

Only now did she allow her mind open to what they could be doing… to what the woman could be doing.

Marisa had pleasured Rico with her hand that first time, but since they’d become lovers, she’d been too shy to instigate anything.

In fairness to herself, she hadn’t needed to.

Rico was an enthusiastic teacher, revelling in opening her up to the world of sensual pleasure.

She knew he was holding back though, knew there was so much more to come from her highly sexed lover once he’d slowly and gently peeled away every layer of her inhibitions, and she could do nothing to stop the hot thrill of arousal to imagine how hedonistic their lovemaking could become.

So lost in her thoughts had she been that by the time he joined her, she was surprised to find she’d finished her drink.

After swooping for a kiss and flopping on the bed, he nodded at her glass that was empty except for mint and ice-cubes and raised a teasing eyebrow. “Thirsty?”

Her heart beating as hard as the pulse between her legs, she put her glass on the side table and lifted his cocktail in its place. Instead of passing it to him, she took a long drink.

Eyes glittering with bemusement, he raised his eyebrow again, his brow then furrowing a groove when she handed him the glass and immediately skipped off the bed before he could touch her.

“I’m going for a swim,” she murmured, closing the drapes on the right-hand side of the bed. “Why don’t you make yourself comfortable? I won’t be long. ”

Fully aware that colour was high on her cheeks, she closed the drapes on the left-hand side and then, acting as if Rico were invisible, cupped her breasts before reaching behind her back to pull the string of her bikini top.

Naked from the waist up, she picked up a towel and sashayed to the shoreline.

Dropping the towel on the sand, she waded out to her knees. The water was cold, but it felt delicious. She could feel Rico’s stare on her, and that felt delicious too.

He was hers, she thought dreamily. That fun, gorgeous, hulking, sexy man was all hers, and he would be hers forever. With Rico, she’d found her heaven, and she wanted to take him there too.

Slowly, she gathered the hair he so loved to run his fingers through and drew it to the top of her head, tying it in a practised knot, and then she waded deeper, flinching when the waterline reached her pubis, flinching again when it reached her breasts, but pushing through it.

When it reached the top of her cleavage, she casually turned around.

Still not letting her stare fall on Rico, she skimmed her gaze around the beach. All the drapes were closed. The bar was out of sight. No one could see her… except him.

She swam a lazy breaststroke before floating on her back. She’d never felt the sun’s rays on her naked breasts before, and it felt as delicious as everything else.

Nearing the shoreline, she stood back in the water, still not looking at him.

Assuring herself that no one other than Rico could see her, she waded back to the sand and casually pulled her bikini bottoms down and stepped out of them.

Now fully naked, she picked up her towel and dried herself, pressing the thick cotton onto every inch of her sensitised body, rubbing it over her breasts, patting it between her thighs…

No longer able to resist, she finally allowed herself to look at Rico.

He’d stripped all his clothes off and was unashamedly masturbating.

For a moment, all she could do was watch him, heat bubbling like a cauldron between her thighs, her heart a staccato.

Not taking her eyes from him, she leant over to collect her discarded bikini bottoms and then walked slowly towards him.

Reaching their bed, she closed the drapes at the foot of it, then turned back to face him.

His eyes were dark and intense with hunger, his jaw tight, his breathing heavy. He didn’t say a word. He didn’t need to. Just to look at him like this was to make her throb with desire.

Marisa climbed onto the bed and straddled his waist. Holding his stare, she rose onto her knees and took hold of his thick length, masturbating it as she pressed it to her opening and teased it inside of herself before slowly sinking on it until their groins locked and she was completely filled by Rico.

For the longest time, she just gazed at him, savouring the sensation.

Piercing eyes penetrating her as effectively as his erection, he lifted his head, clamped his hands on her hips and gently moved her backwards and forwards. Her eyes widened at the deep, potent pleasure.

“Feels good?” he whispered huskily as he continued to manipulate her hips and rock her on his huge length.

She swallowed moisture and nodded, although good didn’t begin to describe the sensations.

He released her hips and put his head back down. “You do it… Whatever you want.”

Whatever she wanted …

A small part of herself disconnected and looked down in astonishment as she splayed her hands on Rico’s chest and began rocking her hips of her own accord, chasing the pleasure .

She was really doing this, taking control, throwing off her inhibitions, and it felt incredible.

“That’s it… Let yourself go, angel.”

The disconnected part dissolved, and she dug her nails into his chest and threw her head back. Driving herself faster and deeper, she ground her pubis on his, barely able to contain her moans as she shamelessly used him to bring herself to a shattering climax.

The ripples of her orgasm had barely started to settle when Rico gripped her hip and cupped the side of her neck.

The tendons on his neck extended and his biceps bulged as he ruthlessly thrust inside her, pounded into her, no longer making love to her like the delicate virgin she’d been but as his sexual equal, and when he bucked into her one last violent time, she ground onto him and brought herself to another, equally earth shattering climax.

Rico wished he could spend the rest of the day doing nothing but lose himself in his increasingly confident lover, but real life kept intruding.

Two of the teams he’d ordered to keep watch at the three English airports closest to Georgia Thomas were in place, but the third team had been delayed at Naples airport and wasn’t likely to get there until evening.

Making an executive decision, he fired messages to the first two teams instructing them to reduce from three men to two and send a man each to the third airport until the Naples team got there.

He then checked in with all the other teams: those keeping a watch over Georgia’s house and those keeping watch over the castle Dante Coscarelli was keeping Georgia’s sister hostage in, plus the team at Florence airport and those watching the train stations…

Around forty of his best men were po sitioned ready to act if either of the English women made so much as a move towards Accardiano.

“What’s keeping you so occupied?”

He’d been so busy firing and replying to messages that he hadn’t registered Marisa lifting her face from the book she’d been engrossed in.

“Just a job I’ve got some of my employees doing,” he answered carefully. The way things had developed between him and Marisa, he didn’t think he was capable of telling her another bare-faced lie.

Her eyes narrowed with suspicion. “What kind of job?”

“The kind of job it’s better for you not to know about.”

She twisted his nipple and glared at him. It was like being glared at by an angry kitten. “No secrets, Federico.”

Putting his phone on the side table, he rolled over to face her. “I don’t want to keep secrets from you, but I also don’t want to tell you things that will make you change your mind about marrying me.”

“Even more reason to tell me,” she riposted staunchly.

He threaded his fingers through her hair. “How about I tell you after we marry?”

“I know exactly the kind of man you are, Federico Esposito, and I love you regardless, so how about you tell me right now?”

Rico studied her obstinate face for a long time. He had a feeling this was an expression he was going to see a lot of over the coming years. It was a thought that made his heart sing and his mouth smile.

“Okay,” he conceded, “I’ll tell you, but confessional rules apply.”

“Confessional rules always apply between us.”

“I love you.”

“Good. Because I love you too. Now make your confession. ”

“Make your promise to still marry me first.”

There was no hesitation. “I promise.”