...Bruno abandoned her breasts in favor of giving her a hurt look. “You make me sound like a selfish, bed-hopping cad. I assure you I’m nothing like that. Yes, I’ve known one or two English girls. But neither of them were anything like you, bella. I love you. And one day, I hope to make you my wife. There will never be anyone else for me but you. How many times must I tell you this?”

“I don’t know. But please don’t stop.”

In even less time than usual, she felt his shaft harden and grow, but she continued to withhold herself from him as she stroked and fondled his balls.

“Please, bella, stop teasing me. Now! I need you now,” he insisted.

Opening her legs, she guided his erect cock back into her slit. “How’s that?”

“Magnifico, my love. Feels wonderful, yes?”

She laughed and wrapped her legs around his waist, loving the sensation of him pushing inside her. “Well, you have none of that prudish stuff to worry about with me. Even if we could get married, which we can’t, I’m not interested in settling down with you or anyone else until this stupid war is over. And if I went to my mother and told her that you’d taken advantage of me, she’d tell me to grow up.”

The two things Pamela liked most about Bruno were his devil-may-care attitude to life and his huge appetite for sex. He said he’d started the war as an officer in the Italian army, but then his superior officer’s wife had complained to her husband that Bruno had attacked her, and he was demoted to the rank of corporal. Bruno had assured Pamela the woman’s allegations were untrue. He said she was the one who had wanted him to sleep with her, and when he’d refused, she’d taken her revenge by making up the story about him attacking her.

As Bruno began to ride her with slow, measured thrusts, Pamela made the soft little moaning and groaning sounds of pleasure she knew he liked. Falling in love with an Italian prisoner of war was not the cleverest thing she’d ever done. For starters, fraternizing with the enemy was against the law.

The first time she saw Bruno, he’d been tending to one of the farm cats who’d injured its paw on a piece of barbed wire. The animal was upset and he’d been so patient and so gentle, stroking its trembling body and crooning softly to it as if it were a child. As he finished cleansing the wound and allowed the cat to scamper away on its three good legs, he’d looked up and their eyes had met.

One look into the depths of his beautiful, liquid brown eyes, she’d gone weak at the knees, she’d grabbed the doorframe for support, and she known from that moment on, her fate was forever sealed. He was everything she’d ever dreamed of and more—kind, caring and good-looking, too. He’d also turned out to be a superlative, sensitive, and fantastic lover who knew exactly how to satisfy a woman. A man who cared about his partner’s pleasure even more than he cared about his own.

As he spread the lips of her pussy and began to rub her clit with the pad of his thumb, she decided to speed things up by squeezing his balls.

After a few more thrusts, Bruno again succeeded in satisfying them both and then, as he lay down beside her and pulled her close, she rested her head against his chest.

“Do you think you’ll be able to stay late again tomorrow night?” she wondered aloud.

“Perhaps. I’ll certainly try.” He chuckled softly. “But once it starts getting dark, I must admit I’m a little nervous walking back to camp with all those old men in uniform with guns and poor eyesight hanging about.”

“You’re worried one of them will shoot you?”