Stephanie's Revenge Read Online Free Page B

it myself...' She was rubbing her clitoris in little
circles, knowing she was going to make herself come. She would have
loved to pinch her nipples with her other hand, but she had to hold
the phone to her ear.
    'Please...'
    She felt her
orgasm explode. It surprised her. She thought she could keep it at
bay for longer, hold it back, torment herself with anticipation.
But her body had other ideas; it had tricked her, found a way
through her defences, taken its own pleasure, her nerves racked
with sensation.
    Devlin heard
her long, low gasp for pleasure.
    'Please...'
But it was too late to ask permission. His spunk jetted from his
cock, hot wet spunk flowing over his fingers like lava from a
volcano.
    For a moment
the phone-line transmitted nothing but little mewls and whimpers of
contentment from both parties.
    Devlin was the
first to speak. 'Stephanie. Darling. You are so wonderful. You do
such things to me. Such wonderful things.'
    'I'll call you
when I get back from Rome,' she said.
    'Be
careful.'
    'Don't worry.
I've got it all planned.'
    Stephanie put
the receiver down and lay back on the bed, still tingling with the
aftermath of her orgasm. She squirmed her naked body on the bed to
nudge the nerves to produce another little frisson of pleasure,
another tremor in her body like the aftershock of an earthquake.
She toyed with the idea of getting Frank back, unlocking his pouch,
and getting him to fuck her. But as the orgasm faded, her mind was
turning to other things. To the plans she had to make, to her
revenge...
     
    The Learjet
landed smoothly at Leonardo da Vinci Aeroporto in Rome. It had been
no more than a twenty minute flight, and most of that had been
circling Rome waiting for a runway.
    Rome was hot.
As Devlin used Rome frequently for business, he kept a car and
chauffeur in the city. They were waiting to meet Stephanie off the
plane. As she intended to do a great deal of shopping she had
brought a number of suitcases with her, though all, bar one, were
empty. A smaller case contained everything she would need for her
short stay, and the one or two special items she needed to deal
with Gianni.
    The chauffeur
loaded the cases into the Rolls Royce Silver Wraith while Stephanie
waited in its air-conditioned interior. The short journey to the
five star Excelsior Hotel on the Via Veneto would be accomplished
in the utmost comfort.
    Stephanie had
been to Rome before. She had never dreamt she would return in such
style - a private jet, a chauffeur-driven Rolls, a suite at the
Excelsior. It was amazing how dramatically her life had changed.
But the most important change was not in her circumstances - not in
the fact she was now dressed in a cotton Armani shirt-waister,
Versace shoes, Cartier sunglasses and La Perla knickers and driving
in a Rolls Royce - but in her attitude. She felt free. She felt
able to use what she had, able to express herself, able to be
herself. She was not cowed by taboos, inhibitions, sexual
prohibitions. All the social conventions that she had carried
around for so long had turned out to be like the luggage in the
boot of the Rolls - empty.
    They drove
through the Piazza Della Republica, where Stephanie remembered
sitting to eat a pizza on the steps of a church designed by
Michelangelo, then on up the Via Barberini to the Via Veneto. Rome,
like most great cities, presented a beautiful vista at every
corner, a particular mixture of the heavenly and the prosaic, of
the divine and the sordid. The great statues of the Trevi Fountain
mixed inextricably with the thirteen year old girls in red satin
mini-skirts and black Lycra halter tops displaying their nascent
breasts to passing men as a means of touting for business.
     
    The staff at
the Excelsior were appropriately ingratiating, bowing and scraping
in a way that suggested Devlin was a valued and important customer.
Stephanie was escorted to a suite by a tail-coated manager before
whom minions scattered in confusion. He assured her that her