to claim my lips. They press together, we press together, offering ourselves to each other and then our mouths part and he enters me. We are only prevented from ripping the clothes from our bodies by the arrival of his man with the carciofi al parmigiano .
“I absolutely adore artichokes,” I say as Mark pushes my chair in for me. “I only ever had small pieces on pizza before, never the whole thing.”
“The heart.”
Mark seats himself at the head of the table where he can take my hand and keep it in his fist while we eat with our fingers. When the waiter brings the decanter of wine from the buffet, Mark waves it away, says something in Italian and the man removes the offending crystal to the kitchen.
Mark uncorks another bottle and toasts to my ingenuity alongside great beauty. He must be drunk or deranged but I know he'd be rightly mad if I demur. I was cool with the commander today. And I do feel rather decadent sitting down to dinner in a nightgown. He pours me more of the fabulous wine. The rising aroma is both sweet and tangy.
“What do you taste?” he asks.
“A combination of almost bitter full-bodied but fruity. Also very powerful, I feel light-headed already.”
“Not surprising after your little adventure today,” he says and I can't tell whether he's angry or amused. Then his face breaks and he leans in to kiss me.
“You were spectacular.” he says with a wistful air. Were? As in past tense?
“With the police you mean?”
“It was you that moved the costume?” he says. “I assumed it was la Signora B but my housekeeper has never been that loyal.”
“Are you angry with me?”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because you keep leaving me locked in my room – your room.”
“Our room. And watch that cute pouting of yours. In a second I'm going to have to bend you over this table and rip that lace to shreds.”
He kisses me and his firm fingers curl around the underside of my breast sending spasms of eager desire through the chasm between my thighs. I wish he'd take me here on the huge table but Roberto comes in with the carpaccio – raw beef.
The food is sublime as usual and we finish with a tiramisu, loaded with marsala and dark espresso coffee. I could fist my entire hand into the creamy mixture and lick it lasciviously from my fingers. Instead I let Mark feed me from the end of his finger as he likes.
With no man other than Mark would I be so ravenous over dessert. Before I'd always act like I never ate sweet things, for shame that he'd think my curvy thighs came from over-indulging.
“You're always so sexy when you eat,” he says. “I love watching you take this between your luscious lips.”
“I wish it was you.” I say, running the tip of my tongue along the edge of my lower lip, drawing his voracious eyes to me. I know he remembers how I trail it the same way along the ridge circling the head of his cock. “I missed our afternoon nap today.”
“I had stuff to take care of.”
“But you locked me in my room. Why do you keep denying it?”
I look right at him daring him to nix me again. Swirls of tension constrict my lower stomach. Fear of him strangling me right here on the table or bending me over it and plunging into me from behind. How can I want him so much when he's so monstrous?
“It's for your own safety,” he says, daring me right back. “There's a killer around, have you forgotten?”
“Is he around? Or is he here?” I say, amazed at my brazen query.
I have to know. I have to know whether the Strangler is my lover, or his so n, or his father and why he's gone to all this trouble to deceive me about his family. But I know somewhere deep inside me that Mark would never hurt me.
Yeah, like you knew that Dwayne would never cheat. I twist my head all about, convinced that someone other than Mark spoke. There's no one but us in the room.
Fuck, now I'm hearing voices. It's not like that. Because somewhere buried in that same place, I knew my ex was
“I absolutely adore artichokes,” I say as Mark pushes my chair in for me. “I only ever had small pieces on pizza before, never the whole thing.”
“The heart.”
Mark seats himself at the head of the table where he can take my hand and keep it in his fist while we eat with our fingers. When the waiter brings the decanter of wine from the buffet, Mark waves it away, says something in Italian and the man removes the offending crystal to the kitchen.
Mark uncorks another bottle and toasts to my ingenuity alongside great beauty. He must be drunk or deranged but I know he'd be rightly mad if I demur. I was cool with the commander today. And I do feel rather decadent sitting down to dinner in a nightgown. He pours me more of the fabulous wine. The rising aroma is both sweet and tangy.
“What do you taste?” he asks.
“A combination of almost bitter full-bodied but fruity. Also very powerful, I feel light-headed already.”
“Not surprising after your little adventure today,” he says and I can't tell whether he's angry or amused. Then his face breaks and he leans in to kiss me.
“You were spectacular.” he says with a wistful air. Were? As in past tense?
“With the police you mean?”
“It was you that moved the costume?” he says. “I assumed it was la Signora B but my housekeeper has never been that loyal.”
“Are you angry with me?”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because you keep leaving me locked in my room – your room.”
“Our room. And watch that cute pouting of yours. In a second I'm going to have to bend you over this table and rip that lace to shreds.”
He kisses me and his firm fingers curl around the underside of my breast sending spasms of eager desire through the chasm between my thighs. I wish he'd take me here on the huge table but Roberto comes in with the carpaccio – raw beef.
The food is sublime as usual and we finish with a tiramisu, loaded with marsala and dark espresso coffee. I could fist my entire hand into the creamy mixture and lick it lasciviously from my fingers. Instead I let Mark feed me from the end of his finger as he likes.
With no man other than Mark would I be so ravenous over dessert. Before I'd always act like I never ate sweet things, for shame that he'd think my curvy thighs came from over-indulging.
“You're always so sexy when you eat,” he says. “I love watching you take this between your luscious lips.”
“I wish it was you.” I say, running the tip of my tongue along the edge of my lower lip, drawing his voracious eyes to me. I know he remembers how I trail it the same way along the ridge circling the head of his cock. “I missed our afternoon nap today.”
“I had stuff to take care of.”
“But you locked me in my room. Why do you keep denying it?”
I look right at him daring him to nix me again. Swirls of tension constrict my lower stomach. Fear of him strangling me right here on the table or bending me over it and plunging into me from behind. How can I want him so much when he's so monstrous?
“It's for your own safety,” he says, daring me right back. “There's a killer around, have you forgotten?”
“Is he around? Or is he here?” I say, amazed at my brazen query.
I have to know. I have to know whether the Strangler is my lover, or his so n, or his father and why he's gone to all this trouble to deceive me about his family. But I know somewhere deep inside me that Mark would never hurt me.
Yeah, like you knew that Dwayne would never cheat. I twist my head all about, convinced that someone other than Mark spoke. There's no one but us in the room.
Fuck, now I'm hearing voices. It's not like that. Because somewhere buried in that same place, I knew my ex was
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