An Innocent Abroad: A Jazz Age Romance (8 page)

Sunlight
blinded Isobel as they emerged from the cave. It took a long moment for her
eyes to re-adjust to the dazzle of sun glinting off the clear blue water of the
bay. By that time Franco, clearly used to the transition, had already
manoeuvred the rowing boat alongside Stefano’s pleasure craft.

Stefano
climbed onto the deck ahead of her and between the men they helped her up, then
with a backward wave, Franco left them.

It
was a pleasure to watch Stefano at work. He rolled up the sleeves of his shirt
to raise the anchor, revealing strong, muscled forearms. His arms were tanned,
his hands deft and sure as he stowed the anchor and its rope. He caught her
watching and gave a knowing grin, stretching out a hand to her, beckoning her
to join him at the wheel.

The
engine roared to life and soon the boat flew over the waves.

“Where
are we going now?” she asked, as he turned the boat to skirt the island’s
coastline rather than heading back towards Positano.

“We
will have lunch in a quiet cove I know.” He pulled her close to stand once
again within the curve of his arms. “It’s a beautiful place, still untouched by
visitors.”

She
cast a glance behind them, checking they were no longer in sight of the
drifting raft or the other visitors’ boat before she allowed herself to relax.

The
cove was everything he had promised and more. Sheltered from the waves and the
wind, the boat bobbed gently on the tide. The hillsides sloping down to the
water were heavily forested, green and lush. And deserted. There were no prying
eyes here. They were utterly alone.

It
was what she wanted, yet despite the bright sunlight that bathed the cove, a
shiver of apprehension spread goose bumps over her skin. Stefano ran his hands
down her bare arms to warm her. “Do you want to swim?”

No,
she did not. What she wanted was to explore these new and dangerous sensations
coursing through her. Now, while she still had the courage to be wild. Now,
while Italy and Stefano still had their hold on her.

“I
don’t have a bathing suit,” she said.

“We
don’t need bathing suits.” He stripped off his shirt, and her heart seemed to
lodge in her throat. His torso was as beautiful as she had imagined. Sleek,
muscled, sculpted, and tanned.

He
turned away as he stripped off his trousers, then he cast a look over his
shoulder, a look full of laughter and mischief, and dived over the boat’s edge.

Her
face caught fire. Stefano had stripped naked before her, with the same ease and
assurance he did everything.

But
how could she possibly do the same?

Until
she’d dressed before Frances today, she’d never been naked in front of anyone,
not even her school friends.

Stefano
surfaced a short distance away, pushing his dark, wet hair back from his face.
“The water is warm,” he called out, as though the temperature were the only
thing keeping her hesitating on the deck. He rolled onto his back, floating in
the water, closing his eyes to bask in the sunshine.

The
ache inside her intensified. She wanted to swim naked in this water. Wanted the
caress of sea and sun on her skin. This was the moment when she needed to
decide if she was going to take what she wanted and be the person she wanted to
be, or whether she was going to play it safe and be the person her mother
wanted her to be.

She
slipped off her T-strap shoes, kicking them away, then slid the sleeves of the
borrowed dress down her arms to reveal the soft camisole she wore beneath. The
silk slipped down her body to pool at her feet. Out in the water, Stefano
lazily turned over to watch. Even across the distance, she could see the
admiration in his dark gaze.

His
look fired her courage.

Isobel
undid her garters and slowly rolled down her silk stockings, and felt rather
than saw the intensifying heat in his gaze.

Once
the stockings lay beside the dress, Isobel lifted the camisole above her head,
and her nipples peaked as the sultry air hit them. Stefano stopped floating to
tread water as he watched her, no longer at ease, his whole attention focussed
on her.

Her
pause as she rested her hands on her hips was barely perceptible. The thin silk
step-in panties she wore were the last barrier between them. Before she could
think twice about it, she slid them down her legs and stepped free of the pile
of clothing at her feet.

The
sun prickled her bare skin. The sensuous touch of air and heat on parts of her
body that had never known them stung her skin to life. She breathed in deeply
and dived neatly over the side, into the welcoming warmth and concealment of
the water.

When
she surfaced, Stefano was less than a metre away, still treading water. Slowly,
he moved towards her, until he was within arm’s length. But he didn’t come any
closer, nor did he touch her.

He
waited, leaving it to her to make the move from which there would be no turning
back. A heady sense of power rushed through her. He wanted her. But the power
was all hers.

She
flipped away from him, diving down into the water, to surface a few metres
away, laughing at the sudden flare of his eyes and the reeling sensation it
sent through her. She had never teased a man before. It was fun.

He
stroked through the water towards her and she slipped away again, making him
chase after her. She was a strong swimmer, loved the water, and by the time he
caught her they were both breathless. He tackled her, playfully wrapping his
arms about her to prevent her from escaping once again, bringing her hard up
against him. Their laughter died, replaced by rapid breathing and instant sizzling
awareness.

Her
breasts pressed against his hard chest as his arms circled her waist. His erection
brushed against her thigh, hardening.

“I
want to touch it,” she said, and he nodded.

Tentatively,
she palmed him, awed at the unexpected strength beneath soft skin. Then slowly
she stroked up and down his full length.

Stefano
smiled, a slow, heated smile, and his eyes were half-hooded. He guided her
hand, wrapping her fingers around him, showing her how to stroke up and down
his erection.

He
moaned. “I need to get you back to the boat. Race you back.”

He
swam well, his strong arms propelling him through the water. But impatience
leant her speed and it was an even race. They reached the boat together and she
climbed the rope ladder to the deck, burningly aware of her nakedness as she
rose out of the water, droplets sleeting from her skin. She stepped onto the
deck and waited for him, her heart knocking against her ribs, unsure of herself
again.

He
climbed the last rungs of the ladder and stepped onto the deck, standing
straight, shoulders thrown back, and she saw him fully for the first time.

He
was beautiful, all smooth planes and hard edges. His erection stood tall and
hard against his stomach.

No
one had ever explained to her the mechanics of how this worked, of how a man
and a woman made love, but she had heard enough whispers to know it involved
that erect penis sliding inside her. She couldn’t imagine it. He seemed so big.

 She
couldn’t drag her eyes away. She swallowed.

“I’ll
go gently,” he said, his voice soft.

She
believed him. He wouldn’t hurt her. Stefano had always treated her as if she
were precious, and important. That wouldn’t change now.

Like
magnets, unable to do anything but obey the laws of attraction, they moved
together. This time when their bodies met there were no barriers, neither water
nor air, nor any of the internal barriers Isobel had been taught were right and
proper for a young lady to keep between her and a man.

He
wanted her and she wanted him. There was nothing else.

With
his hands in her hair, he pulled her close, then his lips were on hers, hard
and demanding, and she liked it, the rough passion of this kiss.

She
wrapped her arms about his waist, holding on to him for support, and he
groaned, deepening his kiss. His tongue relentlessly invaded her mouth, as he
slid his hands down over her shoulders, down the bare skin of her arms. His
rough palms settled at her hips, drawing her hard against him. This time she
did not shiver beneath his touch; her whole body was on fire.

He
lifted her, as effortlessly as though she were a feather, and breaking apart
their kiss, lay her down on the deck. Their gazes held, unable to break apart.
Very gently, he pushed her thighs apart and kneeled between her legs. Every
inch of her was now exposed to him, every secret revealed, and yet she was not
afraid.

Stefano
laid a hand on her thigh, and where he touched her, sparks flashed beneath her
skin. Slowly, reverently, he slid a hand up her leg, over her hip, across her
stomach.

Isobel
ached, the need between her legs growing to an agonising pitch, as his hand
swept upward to her breasts, skimming lightly over nipples hardened to tight
points.  He bunched her breast in his palm, rolled a nipple between his
fingers, and she moaned as streaks of pleasure shot through her.

Then
he leaned forward, flattening the palm of his other hand on the deck beside
her, carrying his weight as his body hovered above hers, so close and yet too
far away. She wanted to wrap her arms about him and pull him closer, to feel his
skin and muscle and solid strength against her body.

“Touch
me,” he said, his voice a growl against her cheek as he leaned in, brushing his
lips over her jaw and down the tender skin of her throat. “Touch me, as you
want me to touch you.”

She
stretched out a hand to his taut abdomen, running her palm over his muscles,
over the bunched up power beneath his hot skin. Growing braver, she moved her
hand lower, circling the base of his erection, cupping him with her palm as he
had shown her in the water.

She
squeezed a little as she stroked him up and down, felt him buck in her hand,
and he moaned with pleasure.

“Oh
yes. That’s so good.” He lowered his mouth to her straining nipples. His mouth
was warm and soft, suckling her, pulling on her, growing more insistent. She
cried out against the shock waves rolling through her, driving straight to the
juncture of her thighs, wet now with need.

His
hands rover over her body, just as hers were doing, moving gradually lower
until they reached the slick cleft between her legs. His fingers slid between
her inner lips, stroking, teasing.

So
absorbed was she in the roiling sensations that she did not protest when he
slid his fingers between her legs, through the soft curls that were all the
modesty she had left. The excruciating pleasure of the movement was so intense
she thrust her hips forward against his hand, wanting more.

Her
fingers tightened around his shaft, stroking him as he stroked her, delighting
in the velvety soft skin beneath her fingers, until he reached up and removed
her fingers from around him and shifted out of her grasp.

“Am
I doing it wrong?” she asked.

He
shook his head. “You’re perfect. Too perfect. This will all be over too soon if
you keep doing that.”

He
eased himself down her body, and then placed his mouth on her opening.

She
shut her eyes. He wasn’t really…?

Oh.
He was.

He
kissed the swollen nub between her legs, then sucked it into his mouth, and
pure pleasure shot through her.

This
couldn’t be bad, could it, or wrong, when it felt so divine?

He
worked her open with his tongue, licking and stroking until she cried out with
pleasure. She lifted her hips, pushed harder against him, and he slid a finger
into her, sending her wild with need even as her body fought against the
intrusion.

His
finger moved in and out, invading her. Gradually she adjusted to the feel of
him, to the sensual slide of his hand.

His
touch started a pulse throbbing through her, building in intensity, and then
the world ceased to exist. She could see nothing, hear nothing, beyond the
exquisite sensations overwhelming her.

Only
when the wave had passed, and her eyes fluttered open again, did he stop. He
moved to lie beside her, wrapping her in his arms.

“That
was…” there were no words.

He
chuckled against her cheek. “That was your first orgasm.”

“Is
it always so… good?”

“It
should be.” He wrapped her in his arms, rolled her onto her side, and held her head
against his chest. His erection pressed against her stomach, more insistent
than ever. “And it can be even better, when I’m inside you.”

And
better for him too, she guessed.

“Then
can we try?” she asked, unable to resist the naughty giggle that bubbled up.

“It
will hurt a little your first time,” he warned.

“Then
we need to get it over with, so we can get to the second time.”