Wife By Force(32)

"The food will stay warm in the servers for more an hour, sir." The lilt of a Caribbean accent softened the attendant's voice.         

     



 

"Grazie," Dante responded.

Within seconds, she heard the villa door close. The nearly silent tread   of her husband moving toward the pool echoed through her body. She   looked over and met his stare.

"Vene." He held out his hand.





Chapter 13





Lara's mahogany hair was slicked back from her face, emphasizing the   deepness of her eyes and the classic oval of her face. Her emotions were   blanked and he wondered for a moment...but no, it was time. He'd felt   the heat of her body, felt her avid gaze upon him.

Dio, finally, she'd kissed him. For the first time, she'd made a move   towards him of her own free will. His heart still jerked and chugged at   the memory of her hands pulling him to her lush and waiting mouth.

He could not be mistaken about this. Could he?

For a moment, a harrowing moment, she merely stared at him.

Then she moved and he knew for sure.

She came toward him, a slow, languid stroke, as if to tease. Standing,   at last, she walked until the water lapped at her hips. With one lazy   move, she untied the top of her bikini, slipping the pink cups slowly   off her breasts, revealing the tight rose nipples and roundness of   curving flesh to his eager perusal.

A blaze of pure heat washed across his entire body.

His wife was seduction personified and she had him in her thrall.

A slight smile flickered across her face as she dropped the top at her   side, letting the water steal it away. She waded to the underwater steps   leading to the edge of the tile where he stood. Dante controlled the   urge to grab, to clutch. He'd done that once before; he would not treat   this woman with so much disrespect ever again.

Her hands came to her hips and pushed the final remnant of swimsuit down   her long legs and into the water. She boldly walked up the last of the   stairs and came right to his side. Her face lifted, skin glowing in  the  muted light, her eyes half-mast and slumberous. Her long elegant  fingers  touched his chest, smoothing through the coarse hair, dallying  at his  nipples, and then stroking across his taut stomach.

He willed himself to hold still.

It was such a pleasure for her to at last show him she desired and wanted him as much as he wanted her.

The elation was indescribable.

One of her long fingers whispered across the end of the towel, tickling his bellybutton, exploring the edge of his hip bone.

The towel slipped from his body with one demanding pull on her part.

He sucked in a breath as one soft hand moved across his naked abdomen,   into the vee of his thigh and pelvis. A flutter of a touch on his tight   balls and then a firm grasp around his erection. He nearly sank to his   knees as his legs shook and his whole body shuddered. Her hand slipped   up and down on his hard flesh, using the beads of creamy fluid on the   tip of him as a lubricant to maximize his pleasure. He leaned his head   back, closed his eyes, and gave himself over to the pure enjoyment and   yes, relief.

She wanted him, si, she wanted him.

The gratifying realization sizzled through his bloodstream.

"You're beautiful, Dante."

A short laugh escaped through his hoarse breathing. "You are the beauty in this relationship."

She gave him no verbal response, only flicked the edge of the head of his penis in a womanly knowing of what a man desires.

He had to put a stop to this or disgrace himself.

"Enough." He grabbed her hand. "You are destroying me."

The smile returned to her face as she slipped her hand from his and   lifted both arms, sliding them onto his shoulders. His hands moved to   her hips, smoothing over the soft skin, molding the inward curve of her   waist, then back to the roundness of her curves. She closed her eyes,   her head tilting, a moan of pure pleasure escaping her lips.

With a tight rein on his passion, he tenderly tucked her into his body,   relishing the feel of her breasts against his chest, and Dio, the brush   of her mons on his aching cock.

A groan escaped him and his hold on any kind of thought disintegrated.   "Lara, bella, it's time," he managed to say, as he licked her neck and   lifted her into his shaking arms.

"I agree." Her eyes opened, honey hot in the dim light. "It's time."

Though every atom of his body screamed at him to throw her on the   nearest surface, he ignored it. With a quick pace, he strode to the   veranda and into the house. He would not take her for the first time on a   lounge chair or against a wall. No, his wife deserved his respect. He   would do this right, give her time, honor her body. All in a bed.

Her light breath brushed his neck as she kissed the edge of his ear and   nipped at the earlobe. An electric sensation shot down his spine and   tightened the muscles of his thighs and his scrotum.         

     



 

"Ho bisogno di te," he rasped against her mouth. I need you.

Desperately.

Pushing the bedroom door aside, he laid his wife on the smooth Egyptian   cotton duvet covering the king-size bed. The soft blues and creams of   the bedspread contrasted with the perfect peach of her skin and the   darkness of her hair. Her hands clasped his neck, pulling him down with   her before he could catch his breath or dampen his lust. Her body  arched  into his, her hips rolling in a movement as old as time.

"Lara," he gasped. "Slow down, il mio amore."

Her hands moved across his shoulders, down his sides. Her touch was warm   and soft, making him tingle and arch into her caress. Yet when she   reached his ass, her grasp became firm and strong. "No," she purred as   his mouth covered hers, then slid to her cheek. "I want you now."

Sweat broke out on the length of his spine. He sucked in one breath   before expelling it in an intense blast as her legs slid open and his   aching cock slipped into her heated, wet notch.

"Wait," he panted.

He would not act the part of a brute again. He would not. Summoning   every inch of his determination, he pulled himself away from her   tempting body. He would prove to her he was a lover with skill, a lover   who spent more time ensuring her pleasure than his own. He would not   lose control.

His wife would have none of it.

"Come here." Her strong arms yanked him back into contact with every curve and dip, every silky sweet inch of her skin.

And he lost the battle.

"Aaah," he moaned and with no conscious thought, surged inside the   depths of this woman he'd wanted with a violent intensity for too long.   His body and hers took over any deliberation or decision on his part.   The honeyed slip and ease of him into her, the stroke of her wet flesh   along his hot, hard length.

The pounding clamor of desire pumped through him, and his hips moved   without will, without consideration. The rush of sensation as he eased   out and into her tight, narrow entry pushed his fabled concentration far   from his grasp. He was totally in her possession, totally submitted to   her-the sweet, tangy fragrance of her arousal, the supple lushness of   her curves, the mysterious depths of her desire-filled eyes. She moved   with him, her hips setting a fierce pace, pushing him, pulling him   towards the end of everything.

He tried to slow the slamming drum of their copulation.

He tried to grasp the threads of some kind of command, if only to ensure   she would be with him completely as he jumped into mindless pleasure.   But somehow, with some female instinct as old as Eve, she sensed his   purpose and countered with the blatant movement of her long, lithe legs.

The slip of her calves smoothed over the hair on his thighs and then   onto his lower back, sending tingling electricity through his nerves and   muscles and bones. The subtle new angle of her body shifted the   sensation on his cock, tightening her hold on him.

Her legs clamped around his waist.

He was lost to her power, thrusting and pushing, dimly aware of the fast   pace of her breath and the sharp cut of her nails as they tightened on   his heaving shoulders.

Scalding heat blasted straight down his spine, curving through his   thighs and shooting up the length of him buried so deeply inside her   wet, welcoming warmth. There was no hope for him, no possibility of   keeping control.

"Lara," he groaned between panting breaths.

Her eyes closed and her head arched on the pillow. A long, low moan of   passion slipped from her mouth, and her nails bit into his skin,   signaling the reaching of her peak. Her inner muscles clenched and   softened around him, pushing, pushing him out, far out past the edge of   his reason.

Swearing, sweating, his every muscle tensing, he threw his head back.   The cry emanating from his mouth was utterly male and visceral in its   conquering command. Jerking and moaning, he plunged into her, spilling   his seed, marking her as his.