The two older women exchanged more talk, and finally the contessa said, "She will agree to this arrangement for two years. After that your agreement must be renewed. Can you live with that?"
"Si," Ashley said with a smile, holding out her hand to Signora Sforza. "Mille grazie, Valentina."
The designer smiled and nodded. Then she said something to Bianca, who laughed.
"She says her creations will be very expensive," the contessa told Ashley.
Ashley nodded. "Let me pick what I want, and then shes will tell me."
Returning to the palazzo, she thanked the contessa. "The New York store will have people going wild over the signora's work," Ashley told the older woman. "Very wealthy men at Christmas who can't spend the holiday with their mistresses will snap up these negligees." She chuckled. "And they will pay the price I charge."
"What will you charge?" the contessa asked curiously.
"I don't know yet," Ashley said. "I must work out what it costs me to purchase them. Not just the signora's price, but the cost of shipping and gift wrapping them, for they will have to be wrapped beautifully. The presentation is every bit as important as is the gift inside the box, especially when you are disappointing a woman."
"She overcharged you," the contessa said.
"I know," Ashley replied. "But it is actually reasonable by American standards. Thank you so much for introducing me to her work. It really is quite beautiful and very unique. I'm just sorry I can't carry it in Egret Pointe, but my trade there would not go the cost, nor would the mall shop."
They sat to have afternoon tea in the contessa's small garden.
"I must go to Milano tomorrow," Bianca di Viscontini informed Ashley. "I shall not see you again. I hope you will not mind being on your own in the palazzo. Antonio and his gondola will be at your disposal, but beware of him," she said with a smile. "He would like to seduce you. All these young gondoliers live to seduce an American lady."
Ashley laughed. "I'll take Ryan with me. They have already begun loading the wardrobe into the crate this afternoon. Why are you going to Milan?"
"I have the final fittings on my winter wardrobe," the contessa told her. "I saw several wonderful outfits at the autumn shows last spring. Now that I am a wealthy widow I find that gossip and fashion fill my world."
"I will miss your company," Ashley said. "You have been such a wonderful hostess to us, but I shall not mind staying in your palazzo for a day or two more and pretending it is mine, and that I am a princess."
Bianca di Viscontini smiled warmly. "I am so glad you have enjoyed your visit."
They had a wonderful dinner that evening, but Ashley awoke after they had gone to bed to find Ryan was not by her side. Hearing voices on the terrace below, she got out of bed and, going to the window, looked down. She could see the shadowed forms of two people stretched out together on a chaise. They were speaking Italian, but she recognized the voices of both her husband and the contessa. What was Ryan doing with Bianca di Viscontini so late at night? She stood next to the window's balcony railing, watching for some minutes. Then finally, to her relief, the couple on the chaise got up, embraced, and then went back inside the palazzo. Ashley got back into bed quickly, and shortly she heard the bedroom door open, and her husband slipped into bed beside her.
She pretended to be asleep, as she had obviously been when he had left her. And why had he left her? And why was he lying on a double chaise with the contessa? She didn't know how to ask him without revealing that she had been spying on him. Then she chided herself for being silly. They were old friends. The contessa was twenty years older than her husband. Tomorrow Bianca di Viscontini would be gone to Milan, and the palazzo was theirs, and she was going to look up into that mirror over them while Ryan made love to her, Ashley decided. But still her curiosity nagged her. Maybe one day she would ask her husband why he had gotten up in the middle of the night to speak with another woman. But not this day. Or tomorrow, or the tomorrow after that. But one day.
Chapter 10
It was raining when they left Venice. November weather had finally set in. There were a total of only five people in the first-class section of the plane. Ashley slept most of the trip, as did Ryan. They had had a sexual marathon that last day and night in the palazzo, because the weather was already getting lousy. And Ashley dreamed quite vividly during the flight. Dreamed of their naked bodies, all golden, reflected darkly in the mirror in the canopy above their bed. She had never seen-even imagined-anything so wickedly erotic as the images of the two of them vigorously fucking. She had never had so many orgasms in a night as she had had last night.
The first one had come, surprising her with its suddenness, when she watched her husband, his dark head between her pale thighs, kissing, nibbling, sucking, and licking her. The view was a completely different one from just gazing down her torso at him. Mesmerized by the portrait of him even as she felt his mouth and tongue on her clit, she went over the edge in an explosion of sensation that left her gasping for breath. And the night had continued on in that vein. At one point she had taken him in her mouth and milked him dry, his salty, creamy cum spurting down her throat, and he had groaned with his pleasure as he watched her in the mirror.
"Wake up, baby." Ryan's voice pierced her consciousness. "We're going to be landing shortly."
Ashley slowly opened her eyes. "How shortly?" she asked him.
"About forty minutes," he said.
The dream lingered, and frankly she was hot. She really needed to be screwed right now. "You promised me something," she murmured against his ear. Then she got up and headed for the first-class restroom, glancing over her shoulder once as she went to make meaningful eye contact with him.
Ryan couldn't help but grin when he realized to what she was referring. He waited a moment, and then followed her. The compartment was a bit larger than the one in tourist or business, but it was still small. He squeezed into it, throwing the lock shut, pulling her against him as she unzipped his trousers and slipped her hand in to fondle him. The thought of what she had in mind had already begun to have its effect, and it didn't take long for his^penis to stiffen and lengthen. "You are a very bad girl," he said softly as he backed her up against a bulkhead, his hands pushing up her skirt to her waist, discovering she wasn't wearing any panties. "Very bad." He chuckled as his hand cupped her mound, and he found that she was wet. Very wet.
"I was dreaming of last night," Ashley said, her lips against his lips. "You woke me up just as I was sucking you off," she told him.
His hands cupped her buttocks. She wrapped her legs about his middle as he raised her up just enough so that he could push into her wet, hot vagina. Sinking to the hilt, he whispered in her ear, "I love it when you're bad, baby." Then he began to fuck her with quick, sharp strokes until they both quickly climaxed and collapsed weakly against each other. "Welcome to the Mile-high Club, Ash," he said softly, kissing her mouth.
"You are probably the best husband in the world," Ashley said with a deep sigh. She pulled her skirt down. "I really was dreaming about us last night, and when you woke me I was so hot. Now I'll make it home." She turned and washed her hands in the tiny sink, then dried them. "I'll go first," she told him, and slipped from the small compartment, walking back down the wide aisle to her seat. Reaching into her bag she pulled out a small pair of silk briefs, and, since there was no one around them, Ashley slipped them on as Ryan reached their seat.