through her as she felt his release, a pain that almost made her scream out for him, a pain so beautiful she wanted to feel it forever as it rocked her entire body, every inch of her tingling as it spread right through her, until it finally subsided, leaving both of them exhausted.
‘Jesus, Dominic…’ India breathed as he rolled over onto his back, lying beside her, taking her hand, ‘… what the hell was that?’
He smiled, turning onto his side so he could look at her, his eyes once more falling on those perfect breasts as they continued to rise and fall, her breathing slowly returning to normal. ‘I’d call it amazing sex. What would you call it?’
She turned her head to face him, smiling too, squeezing his hand. ‘Yeah. I’d say that pretty much described it.’ She ran a hand down between her breasts, aware that his eyes were following her as she did so. ‘I’m gonna have to have another shower now.’ She looked at him. ‘You did this.’
‘Want me to help you get cleaned up?’
She laughed, turning onto her side too so they faced each other, kissing him slowly, not really wanting to leave the bedroom if the truth be told. She wasn’t in the mood for the media frenzy that was still following them around; she wasn’t in the mood to face press and paparazzi, not today. She wasn’t in the mood to face Michael just after she’d had incredible sex with his son. Today she just felt like staying right here, with Dominic, both of them naked with nothing to do but explore each other and work out just what it was that was happening here. Because she still wasn’t all that sure.
‘Well, showering together does preserve water, I suppose…’ India said quietly, running her fingers gently over his rough, unshaven chin.
‘There you go then. We can have sex and help the environment,’ Dominic smirked, stroking the curve of her waist, her hips, resting his hand on her thigh.
‘Who said anything about having sex?’ India smiled, looking into his handsome face, those eyes so like Michael’s staring back at her, but she was determined she could get past that. She had to. She had to try and get past that.
‘You really think I can take a shower with you, watching that incredible body of yours all soaped up and wet… You really think I can do that and not want to fuck you?’ He took her hand and moved it down so it touched him. ‘I mean, I’m already hard just thinking about it.’
She smiled again, letting her fingers run lightly up and down him, making him groan out loud as she pushed him onto his back, climbing astride him. ‘I don’t think we’re even gonna make it to the shower, handsome…’ She carefully guided him back inside her, lowering herself down onto him as he closed his eyes and moaned louder because she was gripping him like a vice, holding onto him like something he’d never felt before, so tight it almost hurt. ‘Do you?’
No, he didn’t. But he was quite happy to stay right where he was because he was being given the ride of his fucking life by a living, breathing fantasy. A woman he was all too aware his father wanted back. But she was going nowhere. India Walsh was his now, he was making sure of that. And daddy was just going to have to get used to it.
***
Michael wasn’t expecting anyone. He never really got visitors, unless you counted Vince who made regular visits to his villa in vain attempts to try and get him to go out for a drink or play some Blackjack in the casino. But Michael wasn’t one for playing. All work suited him just fine right now. He had a movie to finish, and that was proving harder work than even he had anticipated. But then, he hadn’t banked on the speed bump that was his long-lost son turning up. Turning up and taking India from him, from right underneath his nose. How the hell had that happened?
He walked to the door, opening it without looking up; his concentration was focused on yet another story in yet another magazine about the complicated set-up that was his life. But these stories were an everyday occurrence now, he was almost numb to them.
‘Well, this isn’t much of a welcome, is it?’
He looked up at the sound of her voice, almost dropping the magazine. ‘Layla! I… I…’