I tried to remember what I wanted. Please kiss me. Please don’t.
But he didn’t give me time to gather my senses. Lowering his mouth to my ear, he whispered, “You are mine. Forever and always. My pleasure. My duchess. My wife. My lover...”
“No,” I whispered. “I can’t be....”
“I forgot.” He drew back, his eyebrows an amused slash over his heavy-lidded eyes. “You said you do not want me.”
“I don’t,” I said, praying he would believe such a lie.
“I see.” He ran his hand down the bare skin to my throat. “So you feel nothing when I do this....”
Trembling, I shook my head.
“And this...” His large hand cupped my breast over my blouse, the tip of his thumb rubbing over my nipple, which pebbled, aching and taut beneath the fabric.
I couldn’t speak. I looked up at him, my lips parted, my heart pounding.
“Give in. To me.”
“But I don’t love you,” I choked out, but what that really meant was Don’t make me love you.
“I do not ask for your heart. But your body—sí. Tonight...your body will be mine.”
And he lowered his mouth to mine.
His lips were gentle, even tender. One touch, and I was proved a liar. Of course I wanted him. Of course I did.
I sighed, as his kiss deepened, became demanding, hungry. My arms wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him close.
He slowly lowered me back against the enormous bed covered with rose petals. I gloried in the heavy weight of his body over mine, pressing me deep into the soft mattress.
He pulled off my blouse, kissing down my body as each opened button revealed more of my skin. He lifted me against him, to pull off my shirt. I felt the warmth of his fingertips trailing down my naked arms, down my back. With expert precision, he unlatched my bra with a single flick of his fingers, and my breasts hung free, full and heavy and aching for his touch.
I heard the hoarseness of his breath as he pushed me back against the bed. Cupping my breasts with his hands, he nuzzled between them, lowering his head to one taut nipple, then the other, pulling it gently into his mouth as I gasped with pleasure.
“Wait,” I choked out. “I want to feel you—”
Reaching for his shirt, I yanked it hard from his body. I was definitely not as careful as he’d been about the buttons. At least one ripped off entirely and scattered noisily against the floor in my desperation to feel the warmth of his skin. I exhaled when I could at last run my hands over his naked chest, feeling his hard sculpted muscles beneath the light dusting of dark hair. A low groan came from his lips, and he fell against me on the bed, ravishing my lips with his own.
Ohhhh... Deeper, deeper. The pleasure of his tongue against mine, his lips hard and so sweet, made me burn all over, made me lose my mind....
He kissed slowly down my bare skin, working his way to my belly button, which he flicked with his tongue. Unbuttoning my jeans, he rolled them with my panties down my hips, peeling the fabric inch by inch down my legs, kissing and licking and nibbling as he went, until I was naked and gasping for breath.
He kissed the hollow of my foot, then gently pushed my legs wide. From the base of the bed, he looked up at me, spread-eagled across the bed, naked for his pleasure. I quivered with need. If he tried to leave me now—my lips parted. In that moment, I would have done anything—begged, even—to get him to stay.
But no begging was necessary. With a low growl, he removed his own trousers and then fell hard and naked upon me. I felt the length of him, like steel, pressing between my legs. Looking up at his face in the flickering shadows of the firelight, I realized that he wasn’t in nearly as much control of himself as I’d imagined. In fact, he was barely keeping himself in check.
“You don’t have to hold back,” I choked out, pulling him down against me, my hips lifting of their own volition against his. “Please...”
And this time, there was no question what I wanted. But he would not let me control him or set the pace. Shrugging off my grasp, he slid down my body, then parted my legs with his shoulders at my knees. I felt the heat of his breath against my inner thighs. I gasped, reaching my hands out to grip the white comforter beneath me.
Pressing his large hands against my thighs, he spread me wide. He lowered his head and took a long, languorous taste.
My hips bucked beneath his tongue. The pleasure was almost too much to bear. I tried to move away. But he held me fast. He stroked me, licked me, leaving me wet and in the agony of almost unbearable pleasure. His sensual tongue flicked against my taut core, and I held my breath, tilting my head back, my eyes rolling back in my head as I lifted higher, and tighter.
The moment before I would have exploded, he pulled back. I whimpered. I heard his low laugh as he changed position, returning his mouth to where it had been, but pressing his hands beneath my backside to hold me hard against him. Spreading his mouth wide, he worked me with his tongue, going wide, then deep, then wide again. I felt his tongue thrust inside me, and cried out. My back arched against the mattress as he forced me to accept the pleasure, and as he proved to me, against my will, how much more of it my body could endure.
With a single ragged breath, I lifted higher, and higher, but again, just as I was about to explode, he lifted his mouth. He smiled down at me.
By this point I was starting to turn to a mindless mess, somewhere between blubbering and wanting to resort to physical violence, because I knew he was teasing me, forcing me to soar, to coast, then soar higher still.
Abruptly, he lifted my legs to wrap around his tight, trim hips. Rose petals flew up from the bed as he moved me, the flowers leaving a sensual, heady fragrance as they fell back to earth, sliding first against his body, then mine. I felt him pressing hard and stiff and huge between my legs. I exhaled, pressing my fingers into his back, nearly weeping with need.
Again, he started to pull away, but this time, I wouldn’t let him go. My fingernails dug into the skin of his back, and I gave a low growl. “Bien, querida,” he panted. “Bien.”
He positioned his hips, and in one rough movement, he shoved himself inside me, hard and thick and enormous, ramming himself to the hilt. That very first thrust made me explode from the inside out. I saw stars as waves of bliss shook through me. I heard a rising animal cry and realized to my shame that it came from my mouth. I fell back against the soft mattress, as if from a far distance, landing a limp heap on his bed.
He froze, still deep inside me in that first thrust.
“You can go on...” I panted, trying to catch my breath. “I already...”
“More,” he said, eyeing my face hungrily. “Do it again.”
Again? Was he crazy? I shook my head. “I can’t...”
“Again,” he said grimly.
He slowly pushed inside me, this time letting me feel every inch. He made me stretch for him, as I felt him deep inside. It felt good. But he was holding himself
