Chapter 17
Emmeline
The quiet intensity of Donatello’s voice had shocked me more than anything he could do or statement he could make.
His stance on his full domination of me was more of a surprise than I’d believed possible.
In just walking away, I’d felt in a daze, incapable of thinking clearly.
I touched my face, shaking visibly from the memory of how he’d mapped my features.
How many times had I found him staring at me in the past, yet every time he’d done so while in Rio, the memorization had been all about something else.
Now I knew what that was.
About owning me. Not just simple possession for a night or even a week away from everything and everyone we knew, but an obsessive desire to keep me forever.
Passion came in many forms from sharing food and laughter, good times shared with friends to intense conversation.
I’d had years of all of those with Donatello.
While I’d never want to consider them overrated as they weren’t, after sharing a night of raw and powerful sex with the man, I hungered for that more than the others combined.
Oh, we’d return to those later.
But for now, the heat of the moment was all about the wild hunger we both felt, insatiable and unbridled.
What we’d shared had not just crossed some invisible line. The intimacy had obliterated any concept of returning to normal. What we were sharing wasn’t just about desire. It was about much more, something darker and more consuming.
And his statement had excited me more than anything any man could ever say to me.
He didn’t waste any time, joining me in the bathroom mere moments after I’d closed the shower door. I backed against the tile, studying him through the frosted glass as he removed his clothes.
There was no pretense or hesitation on his part. I’d not only toyed with his emotions for years, I’d also challenged his authority.
He wasn’t the kind of man to take either lightly.
When he threw open the door, the look on his face was positively carnal. I feared the glass shattering from the force he used to close the door behind him. For me, being able to study a man’s exquisite features was as powerful as everything else. Especially with this man.
His tall, muscular frame filled the doorway, the scent of our earlier sex lingering from the night before.
He was devastatingly handsome, taking my breath away.
Mother Nature had been very good to him, crafting him as a fine chiseled work of art, every look he offered capable of stripping away my composure.
Of course, he knew what he did to me.
Every heartbeat echoed from remembered heat and the very passion that had left me wet and hot on so many nights. The wolfish gleam in his eye was everything I’d ever wanted, his possessiveness transcending everything I’d thought could happen between us.
As if sensing I was conditioning my mind with all the reasons we were good together, he remained where he was for a few precious seconds.
The several days of stubble crossing his strong jaw created the perfect dangerous, sultry aura and on this morning, it was stronger than before. Maybe I thought so since I’d overheard his conversation.
Including the concern in his voice. Maybe this was all just a dangerous little game.
While the shower wasn’t huge by the standards of what I was used to, he took his time rolling his palms down his chest, tormenting me as I’d done with him. I sensed by the labored rise and fall of his chest that wasn’t going to last long.
I was right. He thrust me against the wall under the showerhead, instantly jerking my arms over my head. With his mouth hovering over mine, all I could think about was him kissing me.
“You’re such a bad little girl. You don’t know what torture you put me through.”
His voice was husky, laced with even more sensuality than before. “I think I do.”
Every time he laughed, I swooned a little bit more. I wondered if he realized how much of an effect that he’d had over me. We curled our fingers together, his lips now brushing lightly across mine. That’s where we remained for a full two minutes.
Even as our hunger created heavy breathing.
Even though the water wasn’t designed to be on for more than four minutes—Brazilian style.
Even though our bodies were buzzing from electricity.
I wasn’t entirely certain who made the next move or if we both realized we’d crossed a threshold of no return. Whatever the case, when our lips crashed together, white-hot current flashed through me. The moment was incredible and the way his lips devoured mine was everything I’d hungered for.
With the water cascading over us, steam had already started to rise. His tongue dominated mine, drinking from me as a parched man would do. He also wasn’t taking no for an answer, which was what I’d craved for far too long.
It would seem the night before had been a sweet teaser.
Or maybe the raucous rounds of sex had merely awakened our senses. Within seconds, he pulled away and I pushed him against the wall, tangling one hand in his hair while rubbing the palm of the other down his chest.
All while our tongues were dancing together, our breathing more ragged than ever before. Every sound we made was animalistic, every movement an attempt for dominance.
Even though I knew that in the end, he’d never allow me to take or keep such authority. He had to be the man in charge.
I pushed myself away seconds later, gasping for air as I licked my lips. Even laughing subtly.
Donatello wrapped his hand around my throat, using his thumb to lift my chin. The twinkle in his eyes was entirely possessive. With a laugh of his own, he dropped his head lower, dragging the tip of his tongue from one side of my jaw to the other, ending by biting my lower lip.
The flash of pain and the instant taste of blood shocked the hell out of me. So the man wanted to play rough. I had no problem with that.
As soon as he nuzzled into my neck, he forced the back of my head to rest against the tile. Briefly, I closed my eyes, enjoying the sensations. But as with everything about the two of us, this was nothing more than a competition.
After a few seconds, I couldn’t take it any longer, driving my hands against his arms. Yes, I broke the connection, the powerful man pitched against the glass. When we both heard it rattle, I was certain he would fall through, grabbing his arms as a flash of fear tore through me.
“Do you think you’re going to get rid of me that easily?” How could his voice become any huskier?
“If I want to.”
He shifted his hand until he was able to cup the side of my face, pushing me against a third wall. “Not a chance.” Using his other hand, he slipped it under my bottom, lifting me with ease off the shower floor.
As if our bodies were perfectly molded together, his cock found my pussy opening easily. Both our eyes opened wide, but that didn’t stop him. He thrust every inch deep within, the force used managing to knock the wind from me.
“Fuck,” he muttered as beads of water slipped down his face. Damn, the man was sexy, including the way his long, dark eyelashes skimmed across his cheeks as steam rose in the confined space.
I clawed his arms, gasping all over again as my pussy muscles stretched. His cock throbbed, still stretching me even though he’d fucked me at least four times the night before.
Okay, five but who was counting? We were both making up for lost time.
He pulled almost all the way out, holding just the tip inside. With an insidious smile, he plunged in again.
And again.
I was more than just breathless. I was spinning out of control, losing myself completely in the man. Every few seconds, he shifted locations, driving us both against the tile while we both laughed. Now under the water once again, he rolled onto the balls of his feet, switching the angle.
There went the piercing again, the electrified sensations the purest form of bliss. Breathing even more difficult, we both gasped several times as the pleasure began to spiral out of control.
Every laugh echoed, every sound he made sweet music. I’d be damned if this wasn’t the hottest experience of my life.
“Do you like how I fuck you?” he growled, the sound unlike anything I’d ever heard before.
“Maybe.”
“Just maybe?” Breathless, he dropped his head, biting my neck near my pulse. When he started sucking on the skin, several moans escaped my lips.
He was marking me. I’d never had a hickey before in my life.
“You are not!” I groaned.
“Oh, yes, I am.” His breath was as scalding as the water, so much so I cinched my eyes shut, concentrating on enjoying the moment. He pushed me further up the wall, driving into me with brutally hard strokes.
I raked my nails over his shoulders, tossing my head back and forth. Breathing in the dense space was becoming impossible. We were both gasping at this point.
The savage pounding continued until I was exhausted, incapable of pushing him away.
Not that I wanted to.
He refused to stop, his jaw clenched as he ignited every synapse, my core erupting in a wildfire. I’d be goddamned if he refused to stop.
“Come for me, my sweet Ambrosia.”
Fuck, the command in his voice was something I couldn’t deny or ignore. I could feel my fingernails ripping his flesh as a climax rushed into my system.
“That’s it,” he breathed and nuzzled into my neck once again.
“Oh. Oh…” My scream was sharp, unexpected and uncontrollable.
And he seemed to love it, rewarding me with thrusting even harder, the force tearing through me like a cyclone. Forget exhaustion. I’d drifted into sheer ecstasy.
I had no idea how long it took for me to drift down from the clouds. I also hadn’t noticed when he’d pulled his body away from mine. I had my eyes closed, a smile of sheer satisfaction on my face as I lolled my head to the side.
Even if I couldn’t breathe any longer, I just didn’t care. Yet when my body started sliding down the shower wall, he yanked me close.
“A little overheated, baby?”
“Uh-huh.”