Bound by the Millionaire's Ring(22)

A beat of silence before he made a jagged sound that wasn't quite a laugh.

"I left naive a long time ago, but I want to believe that, too."

"Then, yes. I'm sure." She held out her hands.



Ramon took her hands and pulled them behind his back, then his palm  hooked the slenderness of her neck and he covered her mouth like he  owned it.

And thrilled when she let him. She surrendered exactly as she had when  he had kissed her downstairs. He had wanted to feast on her then and let  himself do it now, kissing her hard, deep, taking and taking, allowing  his hunger to consume him.

He wasn't a brute. He would have backed off if she had signaled he was  moving too fast, but she worked her hands against his back, pulling  herself tighter into him.

He caught fire under the friction, burning in a sudden conflagration  that had only subsided since Monaco, waiting for the sough of her breath  to burst into life again. He released her long enough to shed his  jacket, dropping it to the floor, then growled like an animal as he  caught her close and pressed her toward the bedroom.

The bed.

He was going too fast, he knew he was, but he'd never felt so greedy. So  pressed for time. He wanted so much-the tendons in her neck, which made  her gasp when he scraped his teeth there, the thrust of her mound  against his aching erection, the fullness of her breasts weighing into  his palms. Releasing her zip, he was able to draw down the one shoulder  and find her braless, naked and firm, yet soft. So soft. And hot. Her  skin scalded his hand as he cupped her breast, plumping it so her nipple  sat high on the creamy swell. He bent to taste the hard bead, playing  it against his tongue and loving her sob of pleasure.

Yes. Pleasure. He wanted to ask what she liked, how he could intensify  this for her, but his voice was gone. He was barely able to form a  thought beyond his desire to make her writhe and cry out and shudder the  way she had in his lap.

Pressing her to sit on the bed, he climbed her gown up her thighs.

She gasped and her hand closed around his wrist.

"I only want to kiss you." He leaned to cover her mouth again,  penetrated her lips with his tongue and groaned as she sucked on it. She  shivered under the caress of his fingers over her breast. He let his  touch linger there as he lowered to his knees between hers, kissing her  and kissing her while he caressed and stroked and finally moved his  hands to rub up the insides of her thighs.

When he found the silk between her legs and lightly stroked over it, she  made a mewing sound, like music. He drew back to admire her swollen,  parted lips, the dazed glow in her eyes, the way she bit her lip as he  worked a finger behind the silk into heat. So much wet, slippery heat.

He pressed his finger into her honeyed channel, nearly out of his mind with how soft and ready she was.

She made a keening noise and her lashes fluttered. He stroked his thumb  in a way that made her tighten all over, and she panted, "Oh, yes."

"Lie back," he commanded, feeling like a god when she sank onto the mattress and threw her arm over her eyes.

He worked black silk down her ivory thighs, taking his time unwrapping  this gift. That's exactly what she was, with her thatch of red-gold and  her nervous twitch as he slid his arms beneath the weight of her thighs.  Pink and perfumed and heady. He wanted to make her scream.

Then he wanted to plunge into her and make her his. Indelibly.



Isidora was burning alive, driven crazy by the slide of Ramon's tongue,  the way he pleasured her with his hand. Her fist knotted in his hair and  she pinched her thighs against his ears, her abdomen twisting as an  orgasm contracted in her. She lifted into his mouth, crying out, not  caring how abandoned she was. It was too good, too fiercely good.

As her climax subsided, she lay there as a puddle of spent muscles and melted bones.

He rose over her, gaze avid as he studied her while roughly stripping his clothes.

She didn't move, only had a distant thought that her dress was the wrong  color. It should be white. This was supposed to be a sanctified moment,  not something raw and primal, where her thighs still burned with the  scrape of his beard and he carried a condom in his pocket so he could  roll it on without stepping away.

He pulled off her gown and pushed her higher on the bed as he covered her.

"My shoes."

"I like them." He guided her ankle to the small of his back, bit her  earlobe and said something dirty about wanting to be inside her.         

     



 

She had thought this moment would come on her wedding day, with declarations of love and a sweeter, more romantic deflowering.

But as imperfect as this was, lying atop a made bed, a man who would  never promise forever pushing her legs apart, she couldn't deny she  wanted this, too. She had never wanted anything so badly in her life.

He moved his tip against her slick folds, parting and teasing until she moaned, "Ramon," and lifted, offering herself.

He muttered something against her mouth and kissed her as he found her  opening. He pressed in with a firm, deep thrust, pelvis coming up tight  against hers as an inner burn seared and made her gasp.

He lifted his head, the haze from his eyes clearing. "Hurt?" He started to pull out.

"It's okay," she whispered hurriedly, trying to draw his head into the  crook of her neck. Her heel instinctively pushed against his buttock,  keeping him from retreating.

"Isidora," he breathed, eyes closing.

"Don't say anything stupid, Ramon. Don't-"

His eyes opened and realization was in them. Something golden and amazed  that made the connection more than physical. Profound. It was like he  saw inside her soul, glanced once, reached out and took possession of  it. She had nothing left to shield herself. Everything she was had  become his. It terrified her.

Something she couldn't decipher moved behind his eyes. He said something that was too soft and stark to catch. Dismay?

"Don't say you want to stop." Her voice was barely there.

"I am not that noble." He shifted, rocking their hips from side to side,  settling deep again in a way that made her gasp. A little shudder went  through her at the rush of sensations. Not pain, but acute sensitivity.  Undeniable intimacy.

There was no pretending she was swept away. It was real. Indelible.

Yet strangely tender and sweet.

He propped on his arms, cupping the sides of her head in his hands.  "This does change the tempo." He moved in a slow retreat and return,  watching her. His eyes glittered, sharp and bright in the slanted light  from the lamp. "I want to make it so good for you."

"You like that you're my first," she accused softly, biting her lip as a  particularly sharp sensation glittered into delightful places.

"I do," he admitted, unabashed, dipping his head to suck her nipple,  smiling with dark satisfaction when he provoked a wriggle and a gasp  from her. He bent toward the other, and when she forced his head up, he  added, "I like it more than I should. I can't wait to feel you come."

That sounded like he was impatient, but he took his time, let her get  used to the intrusion of a man while he caressed and kissed and  complimented her.

It wasn't until she arched into him and said, "Ramon, I can't take  this," that he laughed softly and moved with heavier, more wicked  thrusts, giving her what she had unconsciously begged for. What she  longed to keep each time he slid away, and welcomed with a noise of  gratification each time he returned.

She didn't know what she thought sex would be, but she hadn't expected  to flush all over, to want his teeth against her skin, his weight, his  animalistic dominance over her.

It was base and elemental and made her moan and writhe and arch to offer  herself until he pushed her into that glorious space where release  burst over and around her, leaving her shivering and feeling like the  most beautiful woman alive.

But she was alone again.

Still panting and dazed, she opened her eyes, betrayed yet again. "You didn't-"

"I will," he promised, shifting slightly so he could caress where they joined.

She sucked in a breath as fresh desire shot into her loins, making her  clasp at his shaft. A latent pang of climax pulsed through her sex. She  wouldn't have thought that could make her feel so turned on, but her  limbs drew close around him of their own accord, trying to pull him more  fully atop her, not even thinking, just knowing that she needed more of  him.

"Tell me if I get too rough," he said as he loomed over her, voice  gravelly and lips hot against hers. His kiss held nothing back and  neither did his body as he pressed deep, quickly sucking her back into  the whorl of mindless passion.

When he moved faster and harder this time, she wasn't sure she could  take it. Not because it hurt, but because the intensity was so great,  drawing her tight, threatening to cleave her in half. She needed this  from him, though. Needed his unbridled desire, the possessive grasp of  his hands on her shoulders. She wanted it. Gave herself up to it-to him.

And when the world exploded around her, she clung to his shuddering,  damp form, listened to the echo of her cries in his hoarse shout and  knew that once again, he had given her everything she had ever craved.