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Emma awoke early the next morning; the sun barely beginning to light up the sky. Even though she couldn't have gotten more than a few hours’ sleep, she felt more well-rested than she had in years. So, it's a good night's sex that refreshes the body, not a good night's sleep, Emma thought, giggling. Upon hearing the noise from the next room over, Lisa burst into Emma's bedroom, plopped down on the edge of her bed and demanded a full recount of the evening's events. Emma began to sit up, and then thought better of it as the room began to spin around her. Apparently, the drinks she'd consumed the night before were taking their toll. From her reclined position, Emma filled Lisa in on a few of the less sordid details; she met a hot guy, saw his boat, had a little fun and came home. End of story--or, at least she thought.
Lisa was a little disappointed when her friend wouldn't fill her in on the juicy details, but she knew Emma was never the sort to kiss and tell. So, she bounced off the bed and headed downstairs to whip up breakfast for the two of them. Never the early birds, the rest of the group remained sleeping. Lisa had just depressed the lever on the toaster when Emma appeared in the doorway of the kitchen in a pair of boy-cut shorts and a tank top that left nothing to the imagination. “Wow, Em. Is that what you wore on your impromptu date last night?” she asked with a smirk. The doorbell rang and Lisa turned her head in its direction, perplexed. They didn't know anybody in town, so who exactly could be at their door just a half hour past dawn?
Emma walked toward the front entranceway, assuming the caller must be some evil, early-morning salesman. She opened the door, ready to give him a piece of her hangover-clouded mind, and froze--it certainly wasn't a salesman waiting on her front porch. He was dressed in clothes similar to those strewn across the yacht's deck, but she had never expected to see those clothes--nor the wearer--again. Marco grinned as he read the confusion on Emma's beautiful face. Her hair was tousled from sleep and the skin-tight, skimpy clothing reminded him just how much he enjoyed watching her reveal every inch of her body.
“Good morning, Emma,” he greeted her cordially. God, she felt a thrill course through her every time he said her name.
“Um…good morning, Marco,” she replied shakily. “I...I didn't think I'd see you again. I mean, I enjoyed last night very much, but I assumed you'd be busy...that last night was just, well, you know...” she trailed off, uncertain of how to say that because he had his way with her, she assumed that would be the end of it. A one night's stand, right?
“How did you find me? I mean, I didn't even tell you my last name.”
“I could tell you, but I'm sure you'd rather not know,” he grinned. In truth, all it took was a phone call to a gossipy associate of his, and he was able to find out all about the new group in town. “Now, while I'd love to take you in that,” he paused, allowing the double innuendo of his statement to sink in, “perhaps you should get dressed into something more appropriate so I can take you out for a breakfast that will banish your hangover to the far corners of the earth.”
As she turned to invite Marco inside, Lisa appeared in the doorway, desire radiating from her eyes the moment she saw him standing there. Lisa then glanced past Marco, noticing the car waiting in front of the house.
“Holy crap! What's with the limo, Em? Are you off to Cinderella's ball?” she joked incredulously. Emma's eyes widened as she finally looked beyond the gorgeous male standing in her doorway and caught sight of the luxury vehicle and the driver standing next to it.
“Um, are we going to breakfast in that?” she inquired uncomfortably.
“Well, yes—that’s my car. And by having Vito drive us, I can spend more time focused on you rather than the mundane streets,” he explained.
Still feeling a little off balance from the hangover--and more than a little uncomfortable with Marco and his moneybags--she ushered him into the living room and left to get cleaned up while Lisa entertained her guest. Emma showered mechanically, though her skin still seemed sensitized from last night's play and every brush across her stomach, nipples and clit sent tiny ripples of pleasure through her body. She dressed in her favorite yellow, crepe de chine sundress. Its built-in bra and knee-skimming length rendered undergarments unnecessary, so she slipped on a pair of two-inch heels and headed downstairs, feeling deliciously sinful when a breeze caught beneath her dress to cool her naked, heated flesh.
The shower had given her time to clear her head, and by the time she reappeared in the living room, she was looking forward to breakfast with the Italian Adonis reclining on her sofa--even if that meant riding there in a limo.
The driver stopped in front of some ritzy restaurant. It looked like it was closed; no one occupied the tables near the windows and she could see no movement inside.
“Um, I don't think they're open yet, Marco.”
“Don't worry, Sweetheart,” he replied, placing a hand on her thigh. “Your breakfast awaits you--I'm sure of it.” He bit his lip as he noticed her firm nipples peeking through the thin fabric of her sundress.
Vito was at the door, opening it for Marco and Emma to make their exit. Marco escorted her inside the restaurant and took a seat near a window overlooking a quiet side street. He handed Emma a menu and signaled for the waiter. “Coffee, please, Victor.”
Emma opened her menu, and her eyes went wide at the prices listed next to the decadent dishes inside. She scanned the selections for the least expensive choice. “I'll have the French toast, please,” she requested politely.
“The usual for me please, Victor. Thank you,” Marco added. Victor was off in a flash.
Marco had intended to woo Emma with a little luxury, but she definitely did not look impressed. “Hey, are you alright?” he asked, still amazed by this enigma. Any other woman he'd known would have dug right in, squeezing every last dime of luxury she could muster from him. But not Emma, and God, that made her even hotter.
“I'm sorry, I’m just a little uncomfortable. You seem to have everything...more money than a person could ever possibly want. Mansions, yachts, your own personal chauffeur and a restaurant that opens just for you? It's just not what I'm used to, Marco,” she responded, opting to be forthright. Perhaps she did owe him an explanation; he was only trying to be kind, after all. “You see, I work with children who don't know if they'll have food tomorrow. I do what I can, but my meager salary certainly doesn't go far. Do you know all the good that could be done with that kind of money? For the price of my French toast, I could make sure every one of the kids I work with has breakfast for a week!”
Emma fell silent momentarily, but then decided since she was there anyway, she mind as well enjoy herself. They chatted casually over breakfast, Emma talking more about her own life.
Marco didn't say much, but he did tell her about his younger brother, Dominic, who was his confidante and best friend. Dominic had been called out of town on business earlier this morning, but he'd be back soon and Marco was sure he'd love to meet her. While Marco had to fudge a little about the nature of the business of which he was called away for, he was absolutely certain Dominic was dying to meet the girl who left Marco in such a peaceful slumber; the girl who compelled him to rush through their early morning business in order to find her and take her out for breakfast. As Marco spoke about his brother, his face softened; she could tell that he loved him very much. That made Emma very happy and a new warmth spread through her, compounding the heat that was already making her wet. Marco's nearness and the memories of last night already had her aroused, desperate for a repeat performance.
They remained together for the rest of the day, walking along the streets of Newport, grabbing sandwiches and picnicking in the park. As evening approached, Emma was on fire yet again; if Marco didn't plunge his cock deep inside her soon, she was certain she'd combust. But only moments after inviting her back to his yacht, his phone rang. He turned away, speaking in hushed tones before returning his phone to his pocket and turning to Emma with a pained look.
“God, I’m so sorry--I'm going to have to cut our evening short.” He offered no further explanation, but made one more quick call to his driver. Marco leaned down and kissed Emma gently, his lips lingering on hers, unwilling to end the contact just yet. His driver arrived a minute later to escort Emma back to her home. He turned away as Emma drove off, heading in the opposite direction to meet up with the group of associates who would occupy his evening hours.