Chapter 22
Mia stood in front of her mirror and studied Angelos’s latest gift.
A silk kimono that clung to her naked body, cascading like water in tempting waves over her voluptuous curves.
She ran a hand over her stomach, her hips, and she heard a groan behind her.
He was sprawled against the doorway, wearing only silk pajama pants that fell under the tight, ribbed muscles of his six-pack.
His eyes met hers in the mirror as he prowled toward her on bare feet.
“It’s time to stop pretending you don’t want this, asteri mou ,” he rasped against her ear.
And she did. She wanted to feel him, wanted him to touch her this time. As shameless as that was.
“Touch me, Angelos,” she begged, her breath catching as he tugged her robe loose.
- One Week with the Greek
CALLIE
F our hours later I crashed face-first on my couch.
My feet ached (I’d put on heels for the first time since my fall), my cheeks were sore from smiling, and my ears buzzed from the music.
Man, Greeks sure liked to party. I should have skipped my useless presentation entirely and just gone straight to the dancing.
All in all, the evening had been a success, and I’d enjoyed myself more than I’d thought possible, even if I did spend most of the evening searching the crowd for Nikos. I was sure he’d come back if only to glower at me from the corner and was disappointed when he didn’t.
Now, I was longing for a bath and the comfort of a familiar book.
After pouring my favorite bath oils into the hot water, I lit a few candles, and put on some soft music, determined to have a thoroughly luxurious soak.
But, sure enough, I had no sooner closed my eyes than visions of Nikos’s head between my legs filled my mind.
“Not again,” I groaned. I’d done nothing but fantasize about him for the past few nights. Only natural, I suppose, after those boneshaking orgasms he’d given me. Still, it was infuriating.
Ten frustrating minutes later, I slipped out of the water and slathered on my most expensive lotion—again, thinking of his hands on me—then wrapped myself in my silk kimono.
I was now thoroughly turned on and there was only one solution for that.
Palming the vibrator in my drawer, I went to find something smutty to read.
But as I ran my fingers over the spine of the books, I realized one was missing. And not just any book.
One Week with the Greek was gone. And I knew who had taken it.
Heedless of my partially unclothed state, I marched across the square to pound on his door. It was well after midnight, and if he was already asleep, he was about to wake the fuck up.
The dog’s frantic barking was followed by a series of curses from his owner and then the door was wrenched open.
I stood there speechless as I took him in.
He was naked to the waist, loose pants hanging off his slim hips.
He was a block of hard, sculpted muscle, pecs lightly covered in dark hair, skin golden in the dim light.
He leaned against the doorframe, the hound of the Baskervilles at his heels.
“Where is it?” I demanded. He drew his eyebrows together and had the nerve to look confused. I jabbed my finger at him. “The book. Don’t play dumb, though you’re so good at it.”
“Ah.” He smiled. “I wondered if you’d miss it.” He pushed the door open and the dog darted out, nearly knocking me over.
“Out for a midnight stroll?” He eyed me hotly, his gaze lingering at my nipples poking against through the fabric of my kimono. “And I see you’ve brought your ‘friend.’”
I followed his gaze to the pink, crystal-studded vibrator in my hand, the one I’d been wielding like a dagger in his face.
“I thought I told you not to comment on what I wear,” I warned. “Or on my choice of accessories.”
“You’re making it hard for me.” He approached as smoothly as a cat on his bare feet, and I took a step back.
“I see that.” I said, glancing down at the tenting of his pants and raised an eyebrow. “So? Where is it?”
“The book? That’s what you came here to do? Read?” The muscle in his jaw ticked and that cocky smile teased his lips again. He came closer, but instead of dragging me into his arms like I secretly hoped he would, he brushed past me and continued down the hall to his bedroom.
Like a fool, I followed him.
The nights were still cool and a small fire was banked in the chimney. Warmth spread over me as my gaze slid to his unmade bed and I remembered how I’d rolled around in it, breathing in his scent.
He walked over to his side table where the book was open to the middle, face down.
“You’ve been reading it?” I crossed my arms, giving him an even better view of my breasts.
“Research. I have to do mine as well.”
“And what did you learn?”
“That Angelos is one lucky bastard.” He came around the side of the bed and I took a step back, still naively thinking I could walk away. “But I still have some questions.”
“Such as?” I cocked a brow at him.
“Well, for instance, I’d like to know what your favorite scene is.”
“Why don’t you guess?”
He flipped through the well-worn pages. The spine of the book was creased because I’d read it so many times. I practically knew it by heart. My pulse raced thinking that he’d read the scenes I’d fantasized over since I was a pimply adolescent.
“The obvious choice would be the hot tub on the yacht. But you’re anything but predictable, so I’m going to go with the mirror scene. It’s a bit tamer, but emotionally deeper, less superficial. Something tells me you like that.”
“Oh, so you don’t think I’m superficial.” I threw my hair back. “And are you proposing to give me something emotionally deeper?”
“Me? No, what you see is what you get.”
I let my eyes travel back down his body. “I haven’t actually seen that much, unlike you.” I sat down on his bed and leaned back on my elbows. “It’s only fair that I get a peek too.
“As you wish.” He tugged on the string of his pants and let them fall to the floor.
Jesus, he was magnificent. All smooth muscle and that .
. . that thing . . . standing to attention between his legs.
No wonder I’d had an orgasm just rubbing myself on it.
My poor vibrator was a flimsy knock-off—a tiny hand-rolled cigarette to that Cuban cigar.
My plan had been to tease him and walk away, but there was no way that was happening now. Not when I saw what he was offering. Anyway, who was I kidding? I knew exactly what I was doing when I came here tonight.
“Well, are you going to stand there all day? Or are you going to put that to use?” I said finally.
He walked over until he was standing in front of me.
I ran my hands down his taut stomach and over his hips, contemplating how much of him I’d be able to fit in my mouth without gagging.
I licked my lips but he slid his hand under my chin and lifted my head.
“As much as I’d love that. That’s not how the scene goes. ”
Then he yanked me roughly to my feet, spinning me around until my back was to him. I could feel the hard length of him pressed against my backside as he slipped one arm around my waist, holding me captive.
“I think it’s time to stop pretending you don’t want this, asteri mou .
” I gasped as I recognized the words from the book.
He gently brushed my hair aside, exposing my neck.
My entire body trembled as his warm breath tickled my ear before his lips lightly nipped the sensitive skin.
We were facing the mirror on the wall. I could see everything he was doing to me.
I squirmed against him, rubbing against his erection, and he hissed, clamped his arm tighter around my waist, then tangled a fist into the tie holding my robe together.
With one tug it fell open. I suddenly felt vulnerable and exposed, and I tried to turn my face away from my reflection, but he wouldn’t let me.
“Don’t,” he whispered in my ear. “Look at how beautiful you are.”
My eyes slid back to my reflection. I usually didn’t spend much time analyzing my naked body—my clothed body, yes; my face and my hair, absolutely—but I never contemplated my nudity.
Probably because of that summer I’d done lingerie work, and despite how I’d starved myself, all I’d heard was a litany of criticism about my thighs, the slight pooch of my stomach that never seemed to go away.
But as I watched Nikos’s hands glide over me, pulling back my robe to expose my round hips with faded stretch marks, the scar on my tummy, my heavy, proud breasts, I saw that he was right. My body was beautiful, sensual in its imperfections—soft, generous, warm.
His hands slid up, cupping my breasts, thumbs caressing the tips until I was arching back into him. “These fucking tits. I haven’t thought about anything else since you stepped of that boat,” he growled in my ear.
I groaned as he plucked harder at my nipples, wanting his mouth on them. He licked his finger and drew light circles around them, and heat pooled between my legs.
His hand ran flat down my belly and down to my thigh. He pulled my leg up, setting my foot on the bed, and angled me open. My breath hitched as I stared at his fingers in the mirror nudging me open.
“Always so wet for me.” He breathed in my ear. “Do you like that, watching my fingers fuck you?”
I couldn’t take my eyes off it. Those long, thick beautiful fingers sliding rhythmically inside me.
I could feel the roughness of his callouses, but his hands were gentle, so gentle that it was driving me mad.
I wanted him to be rougher. To manhandle me.
This, this was too much. I bucked against him, and he nipped at my shoulder again. “Don’t be greedy,” he warned.
I arched against him again. I wanted him. Needed him deep inside me. “Please,” I said.
“Please what, asteri mou ?”
“Please, just fuck me. I don’t want it soft or gentle. Throw me down on the bed and give it to me.”
“That’s not how the scene goes, if I remember correctly.
No, I’m going to keep playing with you, and you’re going to watch until you come hard on my fingers.
” He reached lower, slid one then two fingers inside me.
“But if you want to change the scene up . . .” He reached back and the familiar buzz of my vibrator got louder as he rolled my little pink vibrator over my stomach.
It was cold, and the shock of it made me gasp.
I moaned when it replaced his fingers over my clit. “Oh God.”
“Show me how you like it,” he demanded. Our eyes met in the mirror, and I took the vibrator from him, angling it between my lips. “Do you have any idea how jealous I’ve been of this fucking thing?”
His eyes locked on the vibrator as I pressed it against my clit.
My legs started to shake, and he braced me with his arm, his fingers playing with my nipples.
I was close, so close. “You’re gonna come, aren’t you?
Tell me what you need,” he breathed, but I was beyond speech.
He slipped his fingers inside me from behind, pumping and curling around that wicked spot he’d discovered.
“Go ahead, squeeze my fingers with that beautiful cunt.”
Then I was shaking, dropping into his arms as another enormous orgasm rocked through me.
I went limp in his arms as he continued to wring every last bit of it from me.
Only then did he push me down on the bed.
I pulled him down on top of me, my lips greedily seeking his.
I rubbed my tits against his chest, loving how hard he felt against my softness, the hair tickling my sensitive nipples.
“You’d better have a condom this time,” I warned as his head dipped down to devour my breast until I was arching up against him and panting.
“In the drawer,” he mumbled, moving over the other breast. I fumbled to open it, pulled out a new box that had yet to be opened.
“Are you kidding me? Why is this still sealed shut?” I ripped at it, pulling out a packet and shoved it at him.
He ripped it open with his teeth and then rolled it on. I clawed at his back, dragging him up for another drugging kiss, clawing at his firm ass. I opened my legs wide. “I need you.”
He stilled, poised at my entrance. I could feel the tip of him, just there, ready to stretch me out. His dark eyes met mine. “Say that again,” he demanded.
“I need you. Now.” With another guttural growl he impaled me in one smooth stroke. For a minute I couldn’t breathe as I adjusted to the feeling of him deep inside me. So deep. I had to spread my legs more to accommodate his sheer size.
He groaned, closed his eyes. “Fuck, it’s even better than I imagined.”
Knowing that he’d imagined this made me even hotter. I was still a bundle of exposed nerves after that orgasm, and I knew it wouldn’t take much to have another one.
“Are you just going to lay there or are you going to fuck me?” I clutched his ass against me and wiggled my hips.
“So damn bossy. Will you just let me enjoy this moment?” He kissed me softly, thoroughly, while he began a gentle rhythm inside me, every movement slow and deliberate. Was he trying to drive me insane? He had so much brute strength I wanted him to use it on me. I wanted him to lose control.
“Is that all you’ve got?”
He grabbed my wrists and pinned them over my head. “You want more?”
He ground his hips into me, the base of his pelvis grinding into my clit. I was so close.
“Harder!” I ordered. His hips slammed into me again. “Oh fuck. Harder!”
His rhythm increased until he was pounding into me, making animal noises deep in his throat, the sound vibrating through me. I was practically sobbing. “Harder!”
And then I was coming, spasming around him, again and again, as he continued to drive into me, his chest slick with sweat, his skin slapping against mine. “Yes, yes,” I cried as another orgasm crested through me, picking me up and crashing me down into the sheets.
Desperate to give him the same release, I pressed my heels hard into his ass, until he was throbbing inside me, his whole body convulsing over mine.
He collapsed on top of me, panting, his hands still gripping my hands over my head, his face buried in my neck.
Finally, he raised up and stared down at me.
“Fuck,” he whispered, tracing his finger over my jaw and bending down to kiss me tenderly like he wasn’t my worst enemy.