Chapter Ten #3
Her pulse raced as his fingers circled and stroked, pushing her closer to the edge. With each gentle sweep, her body responded, writhing against his hand. Her mind was clouded with need, and she could barely think as she was swept into the rhythm of him.
“Please, Constantine, I need you inside me, branding me. Please…” she whispered, no hesitation in her voice, no second-guessing herself.
He didn’t answer, only grinned darkly, his eyes narrowing with a predatory gleam.
He pushed her back onto the chaise, fingers slipping through his trousers.
The rasp of the zipper was a hiss in the silence, filled with nothing but their labored breaths.
Already, she could scent her own arousal on the air in the lounge, trapped in the enclosed space, as if to tempt her more.
His erection sprang free, thick and hard, and she was hungry to touch him, to stroke him, to make him as delirious as he was making her. She reached out, but he arrested her movement, long fingers gripping her wrist.
Instead of pushing her back into the chaise, Constantine flipped them around with that tensile strength that made her mouth dry anew.
Suddenly, he was on his back below her, his shirt ripped open to reveal his dark, gleaming chest, and she was straddling his hips.
Her jacket lay discarded on the floor, and his dark eyes locked onto hers, as if he meant to eat her up whole.
His fingers brushed against her sensitized folds, and she nearly bucked away at the unwanted stimulus. She felt like a live wire, dancing gleefully, avoiding grounding. Avoiding being trapped again by this man who was so dangerous to her heart, even now.
But his eyes locked on hers, holding her, his hands on her hips guiding her forward as he pushed his trousers down. Thick, dark hair covered his rock-hard thighs, distracting her.
A moan erupted past her lips as he dragged her over his rock-hard abdomen, opening her up scandalously, spreading her wetness all over his washboard muscles.
And just like that, she was damp and needy again, her channel fluttering, clenching and unclenching, eager for his thick length.
“You ready for me, Aliyah?” The thread of tenderness in his tone brought her back to herself, cutting through the drugged haze of fresh desire. “I remember, agapi, how sensitive you get after your climax. It seems your reactions have only gotten even more explosive. If you want me to stop—”
Leaning down, she rubbed her peaked nipples against the sparse hair on his chest. Their moans rent the silence in two. “No, Constantine. No stopping. Not now. Please.”
“As my wife wishes,” he said, catching her in a fast, hard kiss that sent her senses spinning.
And then he was pushing her back, urging her to lift onto her knees just a little, nosing through her wet folds with the broad head of his cock, nudging at her swollen clit until she was arching, moaning, sobbing again, all the while watching her face for every shifting expression.
And just when she thought he would torment her forever, he thrust inside her with one smooth push of his hips.
Aliyah froze at the pinch, at the incredible fullness in this angle. Not that her inner walls stopped a second before clamping around his thick length, as if intending to never let go.
She was never going to get used to his size, she realized, as she tentatively rotated her hips, as if that might ease the suffocating tightness of having him inside her. It didn’t help, but it sent a zing of pleasure down her spine.
His hands came to her breasts. He cupped them, fingers tweaking her nipples, but it was not enough.
It was never going to be enough, she realized. Whatever he gave her, however he pounded into her, however many times he made her come, she wanted more. She would always want more of him.
She was sobbing, mumbling something, begging him to go faster, deeper, for him to put his mouth on her.
“Hush…fterouga,” he said, pushing up to a half-sitting position, going deeper into her. “I’m here, Aliyah. I will give you whatever you need, sweetheart.”
Then his mouth was on her nipples, suckling, kissing, drawing her deeper into his mouth. His hips kept drilling up into her with that superhuman strength, and Aliyah let herself be swept up by him.
She came again, her orgasm sneaking up on her, following the mesmerizing, mind-bending rhythm of his mouth and his thrusts.
“Christos, you milk me so well, drench me so good, Aliyah. Always, you do this. You take me so well.”
She wrapped her arms around him and pressed herself into him as he came with a thundering roar, hips pistoning into her with a savage rhythm that she knew would leave her bruised come tomorrow morning.
But it was nothing compared to the bruises her heart was getting just being near him.
More to hide her face than anything else, she fell onto him, her spine jelly, as he filled her up.
Cliché she might be, but she was already losing a part of herself to him because he was so good at making love to her—it was happening already, like sand rushing out of her hand.
And she knew then that it might not be an easy thing to walk away from him again. If she could do it at all.