Chapter Six #2
Her body beneath his was smooth as satin and warm, and the eroticism of having her naked on the grass beneath him, at last, at fucking last, undid him.
Her passion for him undid him. Her hungry little kisses, her nails in his skin, her thighs wrapped around his waist, and the sound of his name in her husky, pleasure-soaked voice was too much.
He’d been dreaming of her for too long.
But fast was okay. She’d surrendered to him at last and there would be plenty of time for him to savour her in his bed. A lifetime, in fact.
He reached between them, stroking her, feeling her convulse beneath him, crying his name yet again as the climax took her, and then he let the leash off himself, thrusting into her hard and deep until the pleasure rushed up his spine and exploded like a bomb in his head.
He couldn’t move for long minutes afterwards, only remembering far too late that she was small and he was lying on her and probably crushing her.
He pulled out of her, feeling her shiver in reaction as he did so, then eased his weight off her so he was lying on his side on the grass beside her.
She had her eyes closed, her lush mouth slightly opened, her breasts rising and falling in time with her quickened breathing.
He stared at her, unable to drag his gaze away. She was so beautiful, so perfect, and he took his time letting his gaze rove over her, relishing the fact that he was finally seeing her naked body.
Small, perfect breasts with hard little nipples.
The delicious curve of her stomach where his child lay.
The swell of her hips, and the soft, pale curls between her thighs.
He reached out and put his palm on her stomach, smoothing over the hard curve of her bump.
It felt good to touch her like this, as if she was his, because she was now.
Nothing could change that. He wouldn’t let it.
As his heartbeat slowed, he leaned over her and brushed his mouth over hers again, loving the softness of her lips beneath his. ‘This makes you mine, Wren,’ he whispered against them. ‘You understand that, don’t you?’
Her lashes lifted. Her eyes had darkened into charcoal with pleasure, yet he could sense something wary there, something distant. But all she said was, ‘I’ve always been yours, Isandro.’
Satisfaction spread out inside him, and he stroked her again purely for the pleasure of it, watching as goosebumps rose on her skin in the wake of his hand.
Weren’t you not going to touch her until you were married?
The thought ghosted through his brain like smoke, hazy and insubstantial.
It was true, that’s what he’d intended. But he’d thought she’d put up more of a fight, and while giving in to his own desire hadn’t been what he’d wanted, it was acceptable, surely?
She’d be his wife soon anyway, and then they’d be sharing a bed regularly.
One slip-up now wasn’t going to change things.
That’s what you thought after you had her on the desk.
Yes, and he’d been racked with guilt about it for weeks afterwards. Then Carlotta had died…
Some memorial for her.
Isandro shoved the thought and the familiar guilt away angrily. He wasn’t in the mood for those kinds of thoughts now. Right now, Wren was here beside him, naked, and he was going to relish every moment.
‘So, was it that kiss that changed your mind?’ he asked idly, cupping one pert breast, watching as her nipple hardened beneath his stroking finger.
She gave a delicate little shiver. ‘Yes.’
He glanced up at her face. Was that the truth? ‘I was expecting you to hold out longer.’
‘Are you disappointed?’ She made no effort to stop his roving hand, but there was something intense in her gaze he couldn’t read.
‘No,’ he said with absolute truth. ‘I’m not disappointed.’ He slid his hand over her stomach again, enjoying the feel of her silky skin. ‘I was planning on a wedding night anyway.’
She said nothing, though again, the quality of the silence made him glance at her. She was lying relaxed on the grass, not hiding herself, letting him touch her, yet he still had the feeling that she was keeping something back.
‘Did you plan on this?’ he asked, testing. ‘Was that why you came here? To find me?’
‘Does it matter?’ She put her hand over his where it rested on her stomach. ‘I did find you.’
Another evasion. Did he want to push? Now? When they were together for the first time since that day in his office? Perhaps not. She was here right now and that was enough, wasn’t it?
He slid his hand out from under hers, and down between her thighs, stroking the tender flesh there. She shivered, biting her lip. It was the most erotic thing he’d ever seen in his life.
‘So, what now?’ he asked softly. ‘I presume you’ve given up your idea of not having a physical marriage?’
Her lashes fluttered, her hips shifting restlessly under his hand. ‘Perhaps I can revisit that.’
‘Perhaps?’ He eased his finger around her clit, stroking in slow, deliberate circles. ‘I think you want to be there, Wren. I think you’re desperate to be there.’
‘I… I think you’re desperate to…to have me there, too.’
There wasn’t any reason to deny it, not when he’d made such a point of being angry with her resistance.
‘Of course I want you to be there,’ he said, watching the colour rise in her cheeks, listening to her breathing quicken in response to his stroking finger.
‘I won’t have another cold marriage, little bird. And especially not with you.’
Her lashes veiled her gaze, her voice getting breathless. ‘S-so…it’s just about s-sex, then?’
The question was a strange one. Hadn’t this whole thing between them been about sex? He was certainly sexually obsessed with her, and that didn’t seem to be going away any time soon.