Venetian's Midnight Mistress Read online

  But looking at him now, recognising his arousal, at least she knew that Niccolo’s decision not to come to her last night hadn’t been because of any lack of desire on his part.

  She turned to carefully place her cup back on the tray beside her. ‘Niccolo…?’ She held out a hand to him even as she threw back the bedclothes invitingly with the other one. ‘Don’t question, Niccolo,’ she urged as she saw he was about to do exactly that. ‘Just come to bed. Please,’ she encouraged throatily.

  The thrown-back duvet had revealed to Niccolo that Daniella wore French knickers of cream silk and lace to match the camisole top. Her breasts were pert and the nipples hard beneath the silky material, the knickers loose about her slender thighs, and her legs long and silky-soft.

  His gaze returned to her face. Her eyes were warm and sultry, her lips—those pouting, full lips that he so longed to kiss—parted in soft invitation.

  ‘Daniella!’ He needed no second invitation he moved to join her.

  She laughed as she sat up in the bed to swing her feet to the carpeted floor. ‘Let’s remove some of these clothes first, hmm?’ she teased, and she reached out to pull the sweater up his chest and over his head before moving her hands to the fastening on his jeans.

  Niccolo stood perfectly still only inches away from her as she unfastened the steel button there, and then the next, and the next, releasing his arousal.

  His breath caught in his throat as her delicate fingers moved to touch him there. He groaned low, his eyes closing, as her hand slid beneath his boxers and she began to slowly caress him, fingers curving around him as she moved her thumb along the hard length of his shaft.

  Niccolo had lain awake long into the night, unable to stop himself from imagining Daniella touching him like this, caressing him like this, kissing him like this…

  Oh, God!

  He vividly remembered her heat. Such warm, wet heat. Surrounding him. Drawing him in. Deeper and deeper into that molten fire until it threatened to send him spiralling out of control.

  ‘Let me kiss you, Daniella,’ he rasped urgently, and he moved his hands to cup either side of her face, drawing her up into a kneeling position on the bed so that he could claim her parted lips with his own. Their kiss was feverish as Niccolo’s tongue plunged deep inside her, licking, tasting, thrusting, claiming that mouth for his own, and his hands ran restlessly down the length of her body to pull her close into his hardness.

  As desire and need spun wildly out of control it was almost as if those hours since Niccolo had last kissed her had never happened—although Dani knew that they had, because she had spent most of them fervently wishing he would kiss her again.

  Her arms were up about the broadness of Niccolo’s shoulders, her fingers threaded into the wild darkness of his hair as she returned the fever of his kiss, and her moan was almost feral as one of his hands moved to cup beneath her breast and he rubbed the pad of his thumb over the already sensitised tip.

  Dani’s back arched as she moved against that caressing hand, her head dropping back as Niccolo’s mouth left hers to travel the length of her throat and down, to capture the other throbbing tip through the thin material of her camisole top with the moist heat of his mouth. He drew it in, suckling fiercely in contrast to the gentle lap of his tongue against the roused hardness of her already engorged nipple.

  Dani’s fingers clung on to Niccolo’s shoulders and her thighs parted as his hand moved the silk material aside to cup her centre, the pad of his palm pressing against her hardened nub as first one finger and then two sought and found her entrance.

  Maybe it was because her body already knew the pleasure of Niccolo’s, or maybe pregnancy had increased her sensitivity to his caresses, but as Niccolo’s fingers continued to stroke inside her, and his lips, mouth and tongue suckled her, Dani felt her body arch anew with the rising force of her imminent release.

  ‘Niccolo…?’ Her cry was almost one of bewilderment, and her fingernails dug into the soft flesh of his muscled shoulders.

  His hand shifted slightly. The palm was no longer against that hardened nub, but replaced by the caressing pad of his thumb as it moved rhythmically against her, again and again, until Dani could feel the increase in heat, in fire, and she shuddered against his hand in a fierce, pulsating pleasure that seemed as though it would last for ever.

  ‘Oh, God—oh, God!’ Her head dropped down weakly onto his shoulder and her mouth moved moistly against him, biting, nibbling in the ecstasies of release.

  One of Niccolo’s arms supported her back even as he continued to suckle her breast through the now damp material of her camisole. His fingers were stroking, possessing, extorting the last degree of pleasure out of her, and even the briefest caress of his fingers as they left her caused her to quiver in response.

  He might not have known the woman he made love with all those weeks ago, but he certainly knew her now! Daniella was a goddess. A goddess of pleasure. Of love. An Aphrodite. And she was his. Every silken, glorious inch of her was his.

  Niccolo raised his head to look down at her. At the wild tumble of hair about her face and shoulders. At her eyes, dark and slumberous from her recent release.

  ‘You are beautiful, Daniella,’ he told her throatily. ‘So, so beautiful!’ He reached down to swing her up into his arms before laying her down in the centre of the bed, his gaze never leaving hers as he gently slid the damp camisole and French knickers from her body before straightening to remove the last of his own clothing.

  Dani gazed her fill of him as she hadn’t been able to do the last time they were together, marvelling at the powerful width of his shoulders, his muscled chest, narrow waist and strong, powerful thighs and legs, before her hungry gaze returned to the hardness of his thrusting arousal, long and thick, like tempered steel encased in velvet.

  Her gaze returned to his tensely waiting face. ‘So are you, Niccolo,’ she breathed. ‘So are you!’ She reached out her arms to him, drawing him warmly against her as he moved to lie down on the bed beside her, and she parted her lips to receive the fierce possession of his.

  She could feel the muscles rippling in his back as he half lay across her, his mouth tasting the column of her throat, and she ran her hands down the length of his spine to cup the muscled contours of his buttocks.

  Niccolo truly was beautifully male—like the statue of David. Although she thought, from her memory of that particular statue, that Niccolo was better endowed down below than—

  My God, what was she thinking?

  It was impossible to stop the burst of laughter from escaping, although her smile quickly faded as Niccolo raised his head to look down at her with enquiry; it really wasn’t the time or place for her to have laughed.

  ‘No, do not stop smiling, Daniella,’ Niccolo encouraged as he saw the fading of that smile, the expression in her eyes almost wary now. ‘I love to see you smile,’ he assured her. ‘And lovemaking is not always a serious business, you know,’ he added.

  She voiced her uncertainty. ‘It isn’t?’

  ‘Not at all,’ he reassured her gently, knowing that once again he had touched upon that area of physical intimacy that Daniella found so—so what?

  From the sudden wariness in her eyes just now Niccolo would have said she was almost afraid of his reaction to her show of humour—as if she dreaded it might have angered him and feared his response.

  He leant on his elbow as he smiled down at her. ‘I am reminded of Eleni’s reaction after our mother sat her down one day and gave her the “facts of life” talk. I am sure you know the one that I mean…?’ He raised mocking brows.

  ‘Oh, yes.’ Dani grimaced as she easily recalled the embarrassment she had suffered at having that particular conversation with her own mother. She wondered where he was going with this—he seemed surprisingly relaxed about her laughter just now.

  ‘Exactly.’ He nodded. ‘Eleni came to me afterwards and assured me that our mother could not possibly be serious about a man wanting to put that part
of his body inside her. And that even if he did want to do such a totally gross thing, the woman could not possibly allow him to do it!’

  Dani did try to hold back her laughter this time. She really did. But the thought of Eleni saying something like that to her much older and already sexually active brother was just too much for her, and she found herself once again convulsed with laughter.

  ‘I can’t believe Eleni really said that to you!’ Dani choked once she got her breath back enough to talk at all.

  ‘Oh, yes.’ Niccolo lay down on the pillows beside her, one of his arms back behind his head. ‘Like you, I found great difficulty in not laughing.’

  ‘What did you say to her?’ Dani asked wonderingly.

  He shrugged. ‘That when the time came she would not find the process quite so gross.’ He shook his head. ‘I wonder what my little sister would say now if I were to remind her of that talk?’ he mused devilishly.

  ‘I wouldn’t remind her of it, if I were you.’ Dani still grinned as she sat up beside him. ‘Although I might,’ she added mischievously.

  Niccolo turned his head to look at Daniella as she sat up on the bed beside him, now totally unselfconscious in her nakedness—as he’d wanted and intended her to be.

  He had no doubt now that there was some hidden pain inside Daniella connected with physical intimacy. He was also pretty sure that pain was somehow connected to her ex-husband. Philip Maddox was someone, Niccolo promised himself, with whom he would deal at a later date; it was Daniella who interested him now. And only Daniella.

  ‘May I share your joke now?’ he queried gently.

  Embarrassed colour darkened her cheeks. ‘It wasn’t really a joke. I—I was—I was thinking of the statue of David,’ she explained uncomfortably. ‘About the fact that you—that you’re—er…’

  ‘That I am what?’ Niccolo encouraged indulgently as Daniella’s cheeks flushed anew.

  ‘That you’re much better endowed than he is,’ she told him awkwardly, before turning her gaze away because she could no longer quite meet his.

  ‘I will take that as a compliment, Daniella.’ Niccolo surged up on his elbow beside her, his eyes glowing darkly. ‘And that I am so aroused is due entirely to you.’

  ‘It is?’

  ‘Perhaps you would like to discover for yourself just how much I cannot resist you?’ he murmured.

  ‘Perhaps I might,’ she said teasingly.

  Dani hadn’t ever imagined that lovemaking could be this much fun—least of all with Niccolo, a man she had only ever seen as either the serious head of the D’Alessandro family or her sarcastic protagonist of the last few years.

  But Niccolo’s teasing, their mutual laughter, had dispelled any awkwardness she might once have felt at being this intimate with him, and she slid down his body, placing featherlight kisses against his sensitised flesh until she reached her true goal.

  ‘Let’s see, shall we?’ she whispered as she moved to take him in her mouth, instantly feeling his response as her tongue stroked and her lips caressed.

  He felt so good, tasted so good. Her hand gently cupped him as he strained against her, as he groaned low in his throat, and his hands became entangled in the fiery tangle of her hair where it cascaded wildly on the flatness of his stomach.

  ‘Daniella…’ he muttered urgently seconds, minutes later, his whole body tensed, his hands clenched into the sheet beneath him.

  She made one last stroke with her tongue before relinquishing him reluctantly and looking up at him in the half-light. ‘I believe you desire me very much,’ she teased, as another light caress of her hand visibly made him arch in a need for release.

  ‘I believe you are right!’ he told her fiercely, and he surged up beside her to gently push her back down onto the pillows. He laid claim to her pouting breasts, his hand caressing her before he trailed kisses down her still-flat abdomen to part the silky hair between her thighs and claim her with his lips and tongue.

  Within seconds Dani knew that she was on the verge of another climax as Niccolo’s tongue flickered against her hardened nub, lapping greedily.

  ‘I want you inside me, Niccolo!’ Dani cried achingly. ‘I want—Oh…!’ Her groan was one of pure pleasure as his tongue suddenly plunged inside her, thrusting rhythmically, taking her to a higher level of pleasure.

  Higher.

  And then higher still.

  Until Dani thought she would disintegrate into a thousand, a million pieces!

  ‘Niccolo, please…!’ she whimpered urgently, and her hands moved restlessly against his shoulders. She wanted him inside her, deep, deep inside her, when the explosion came.

  Niccolo gentled his stroking tongue before moving slowly, caressingly, back up the lithe length of Daniella’s beautiful body, his hardness throbbing wildly for the possession she had just cried out for. ‘It will not harm you or the baby if I—?’

  ‘No,’ Daniella assured him breathlessly, her eyes feverish, her lips red and swollen. ‘The doctor told me it’s perfectly safe for me to continue normal sexual relations. But as my “normal sexual relations” at the time were non-existent I—Oh…!’ She moaned weakly as Niccolo moved between her thighs to position himself gently against her entrance.

  Slowly, oh so slowly, inch by inch, Niccolo entered her, watching the deepening pleasure on Daniella’s face even as he kept a tight rein on his control so that he wouldn’t just surge deep within her in hard, thrusting possession, stroking rapidly until they both climaxed in wild, mindless ecstasy.

  His!

  Daniella was his—all his, Niccolo cried silently as he buried himself inside her to the hilt, halting all movement as he gave her time to adjust to his hard length, his jaw clenched in his effort to slow down.

  Dani, sensing the sheer effort of will Niccolo was exerting, and knowing his caution was unnecessary, began to move her hips against him, and his own groans of pleasure matched hers as seconds later he rolled over onto his back and took her with him, Dani above him now as he allowed her to take control.

  Their gazes were locked as Dani rode him hard and fast, her back arching as Niccolo’s hands moved to cup her breasts, as he caressed those fiery tips in that same instinctive rhythm. Then his hands left her breasts to grasp her hips, his expression fierce as he controlled her movements to take Dani with him into a breathtaking, bone-melting climax that raged fierily through every single part of them both.

  Dani collapsed weakly down onto him minutes, hours later, to rest the dampness of her forehead against Niccolo’s chest, her breathing as raggedly uneven as his own, their bodies still joined.

  Niccolo reached up a languid hand to gently caress the fiery length of Daniella’s hair as it lay like flame against the darkness of his chest, totally satiated, sure that he had died and gone to heaven in this siren’s arms.

  He didn’t speak—wasn’t certain that he could have done so if he had tried!—just held her, sure that a single word would break the spell. And he didn’t want this to be over yet. He wanted to just lie here in Daniella’s arms, to savour being with her like this. Without any arguments. Without any doubts whatsoever that she belonged to him and always would.

  Because she truly was magnificent.

  So beautiful. So responsive. So unselfish in her desire to give him as much pleasure as she was feeling herself.

  Such lovers, Niccolo knew, were rare—unique.

  As Daniella herself was unique.

  Niccolo tightened his arms about her, instinctively holding to him what he knew to be his.

  What would be his!

  All he had to do was persuade Daniella into comprehending that too.

  All…!

  Daniella, as if sensing his fierce feelings of possession, began to stir above him, shifting slightly so that their bodies were no longer joined, before moving to lie down on the bed beside him.

  Niccolo instantly turned on his side to face her, knowing by the sudden guarded look in her eyes as she looked at him that she had indeed sensed th
ose feelings inside him and shied away from them.

  ‘Daniella—’

  ‘This changes nothing, Niccolo. You do know that?’ Dani cut firmly across his reasonable tone, shaking her head determinedly. ‘Physical pleasure is no basis on which to begin a ma—any sort of a relationship,’ she amended quickly.

  ‘It is a start,’ Niccolo insisted darkly.

  ‘No,’ Dani denied.

  ‘Yes, Daniella.’

  ‘No, it isn’t, Niccolo,’ she repeated quietly, wishing things could be different, but knowing that too much stood between them to ever be overcome just by physical compatibility.

  Her brief, disastrous marriage.

  The contents of her grandfather’s will.

  The fact that Niccolo’s only reason for wanting to marry her was because she carried his child.

  That Niccolo didn’t love her as she loved him!

  The other things they could maybe have dealt with, given time and understanding, but the thought of loving Niccolo, being in love with him, and knowing that he had only married her out of a sense of Venetian duty and honour would surely destroy any chance of them finding happiness together.

  It would certainly destroy her.

  She could imagine nothing worse than loving Niccolo and being unable to ever tell him how she felt about him—knew that over a period of time, in the close intimacy of a marriage, it would destroy her more utterly than Philip’s treatment of her had ever done.

  She deliberately averted her gaze from Niccolo’s as she moved away from him to sit on the side of the bed. ‘I have to shower and dress if I’m to fly back to England today—’

  ‘If we are to fly to England today,’ Niccolo contradicted harshly, the mattress moving slightly behind Dani as he moved to sit on his side of the bed.

  Dani turned sharply to look at him. ‘We?’

  He raised dark brows challengingly. ‘You did not seriously believe that I would simply let you return to England to face this alone?’