so good. He slid deep, painlessly, and she knew that was why she was wet. For him.
She threw her arms around his neck, holding on tightly, as her body did what her mouth had done, clasping him, holding him, as he thrust up into her, a hard, steady, relentless rhythm that had her gasping for breath, shivering in reaction, unable to move herself as he pinned her against the door, simply receiving his half-frantic thrusts, wanting more and more.
His skin was covered with a thin film of sweat, his face against her neck, his fingers tight on her hips.
A climax rocked her, the climax she'd been cheated of the night before, and she could feel herself shatter, losing all sense of anything but the blinding, mindless pleasure he gave her.
He held still, letting her ripple and clench around him, and when the first throes had died he swung her away from the door, never breaking their joining, carrying her across the room to the Holland-covered bed. He tried to set them both down without breaking their connection but she tumbled away from him and he slipped free, and she found she could giggle.
"Heartless wench," he growled, coming down on one knee on the bed. "Turn over."
She stilled, looking up at him questioningly. "Turn over," he said again. "And get on your knees.
You know I won't hurt you. Don't you?"
Yes, she knew. She did as she was told, for a moment feeling embarrassed, undignified. But there was no dignity to be sought in sex, and she felt his mouth at the small of her back, heard his sigh of dreamlike appreciation. "You're beautiful, you know," he murmured, his hands sliding over her back, pulling her forward so that she rested on her elbows. 'Tour skin is like cream. I want you every way I can." His fingers slid over her buttocks, hard, caressing, then moved down between her legs, to the wetness there, and she jumped, her sensitized flesh quivering.
He rubbed her, spreading the dampness, and he slid his long fingers inside her, making her start.
And then she pushed back against his hand, wanting more.
A moment later she felt his hard thighs at the back of hers, his cock nudging at her damp sex. And when he pushed in again it was tighter, deeper, rubbing against a different place that suddenly made her climax again, a long, powerful shudder. He held her, one hand palming the front of her to hold her steady.
'Try not to come so hard, love," he said in a shaky laugh. "You're pushing me out again. And I need to be deep inside you."
His words made another paroxysm hit her, and she was powerless to do anything about it. "I can't...
stop it," she said, dropping her head down on the heavy linen cover that smelted of bleach and sunlight and dust. "Just let me..." Her momentary breath was enough, and he pushed in, deeper than he'd ever been before, so deep she could taste him again.
His fingers tightened on her hips, and it was as if permission had finally been granted. He thrust into her, fast now, so hard she had to muffle her cries into the covers beneath her, again and again and again, and she knew if he pulled out she'd die, she needed him, spilling inside her, she needed him filling her, over and over.
He took one hand from her hip, slid it around in front of her and rubbed his palm against that magic place, just as his cock slid along a spot so powerful inside her that even the mattress couldn't muffle her shriek, and with a final, slamming thrust he climaxed, inside her, and her body pulled him deeper rather than pushing him away as she dissolved.
It seemed to last forever, his rigid outpouring that seemed to scald her very heart, her shivering, clenching, mindless release, and all she could think was more, more, more, and then suddenly it was enough, and they collapsed together onto the narrow, dusty bed.
22
Etienne de Giverney was a very unhappy man. He had spent a lifetime in search of the legacy he deserved, he'd broken the laws of God and man, and just when it looked as if it was in his reach that overgrown, red-headed bitch had thrown all his plans in the sewer.
It was impossible. Three weeks ago, when he saw Adrian head after her instead of sharing drink and decadence with him, he'd assumed he was perfectly safe. The girl was awkward,