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“I don’t know,” she said, her voice suddenly sultry. “I think I’m going to need some more convincing.”
As she said it, her hand gently brushed my cock.
It immediately went from mostly soft to halfway stiff – and kept getting harder as she caressed me.
“Yeah?” I murmured.
“Yeah,” she whispered with a grin.
“Alright,” I said as I rolled over and began kissing her neck. “More convincing, coming right up.”
177
After another hour in bed, we ordered room service for an early dinner. Then we showered and caught our flight at 9.
There was an hour-and-a-half layover in Paris, then we got to Florence just after one in the morning.
Giorgio was waiting for us. He took one glance at Rachel and gave me a look like, WOW.
“Bella signorina,” he said approvingly.
Beautiful lady.
“Parla italiano,” I replied. “Ed è la mia fidanzata.”
She speaks Italian. And she’s my fiancée.
“…oh,” he said, blushing bright red.
He was probably thanking his lucky stars he hadn’t said anything coarse or off-color.
“Ma grazie,” Rachel said with a partially suppressed smile.
But thank you.
Giorgio kept his mouth shut after that. He didn’t say anything else until we were in the car, and I started prodding him – in Italian – for news about what had been going on.
“All I know is that Massimo called again around midnight,” he said. “Things had been going good – then shit went south.”
“What happened?” I asked in alarm.
“Some fucker nearly killed him and kidnapped the Widow’s granddaughter.”
My stomach lurched. “…Jesus…”
“Yeah,” he said, then warned me, “Just know you’re walking into a real shitshow, boss.”
“Great,” Rachel muttered behind clenched teeth. She asked me in English, “Are you sure we can’t just take off?”
“He knows English,” I told her.
“…great,” Rachel said, a sickly look on her face.
Giorgio smiled in the rearview mirror – glad that he wasn’t the one in the hot seat for once. “Take off where?”
“Nowhere,” I told him, then whispered to her, “It’s going to be alright. Do you trust me?”
“…yes,” she whispered back, and lay her head on my shoulder.
