The Tycoon's Trophy Wife. Miranda Lee
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‘I would never break my marriage vows,’ she denied fiercely. ‘But I might ask for a divorce if you keep manhandling me.’
He didn’t let her go. Just glared down into her face, his own flushed and frustrated-looking.
‘That won’t get you a baby,’ he snapped. ‘Which is the only reason you married me, isn’t it?’
‘It was one of the reasons,’ she threw at him. ‘I told you I wanted a family.’
‘What were the other reasons? My money, I presume.’
‘I wanted security. Yes. But if you must know, I had no idea you were as rich as you were when I agreed to marry you. Now let go of my arm.’
He did so, but remained standing in front of her, blocking her way. When she stepped back a little, the front bumper bar of the car contacted her calves.
‘What about sex?’ he ground out. ‘You said at our first meeting that you discovered you weren’t cut out for celibacy. You implied you wanted a man in your bed every night for the pleasure he could bring you. Have I brought you pleasure, Alanna?’ he demanded to know.
When she went to move sidewards, his hands shot out to grab her shoulders, holding her and forcing her to look up at him.
‘Have I, Alanna?’ he repeated harshly, giving her a little shake.
‘You know you have,’ she choked out.
It was cold in the garages, but her sudden shivering had nothing to do with the air temperature.
He yanked her hard against him, his blue eyes blazing like a pitiless summer sky. His mouth was just as pitiless.
Reece knew exactly the kind of kissing she liked. Right from their wedding night she hadn’t been able to resist his kisses. By the time his head lifted, she was no longer shivering.
‘Lie back across the bonnet of the car,’ he commanded, his voice rough and thick.
Her eyes flared wide with shock. ‘But…’
‘Damn it, don’t argue with me,’ he ground out, then kissed her some more till all her defences were gone.
No protest came from her lips when he lowered her back across the engine-heated bonnet and started pushing her dress upwards. Up. Up to her waist.
Her heart pounded. Her skin flamed. Her head spun.
‘Oh, Babe,’ he groaned when he saw what she was wearing underneath her dress.
A red strapless corselette, with suspenders holding up her stockings, and only a wisp of a red lace covering her.
Her underwear had been a present from the bride. Not that she didn’t like sexy underwear. She did. She just didn’t usually buy red.
Reece ripped the lacy thong off her with a single yank, leaving her totally exposed. When he pushed her legs apart and leant forward, Alanna bit her bottom lip and squeezed her eyes tightly shut.
She tensed in anticipation of his mouth making contact, but it was his hands she felt first, touching her, exploring her, teasing her.
‘So wet,’ she heard him say, and knew it was true.
He made her wet so easily. Made her want to be made love to, even when she thought she didn’t.
His fingers continued to play with her till she almost cried out to him to stop. She wanted his lips. And his tongue.
When he finally did what she wanted, her head twisted from side to side, her face grimacing as the exquisite sensations he evoked brought with them an equally exquisite tension.
His sudden abandonment had her eyes flying open.
‘You…you can’t just stop!’ she cried out.
He laughed as he scooped his hands under her bottom and swept her up from the bonnet. ‘Oh, yes, I can.’
‘You bastard.’
His eyes glittered wildly down at her, his smile devilishly sexy. ‘Tch tch. You’re a lady, remember?’
‘I don’t feel much like a lady at this moment.’ Her frustration was at fever pitch, making her almost violent with need.
‘Tell me what you feel like,’ he challenged her as he carried her inside the house. ‘Tell me what you want me to do to you.’
Her already heated face must have gone bright red.
‘You can say it,’ he whispered wickedly in her ear. ‘There’s no one here to hear you but me. And I want you to say it, just the way you’re thinking it right now. Go on. Say it!’
She said it.
‘Don’t worry, Babe,’ he muttered, his arms tightening around her as he began mounting the stairs that led up to their bedroom. ‘It’ll be my pleasure to do that, and more.’
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