Claimed For His Duty (Greek Tycoons Tamed Book 1)(26)
“Theos, you’re going to be the death of me, Leah.”
For long seconds that felt like an eternity, he only looked at her. Pulled her calf up until her foot was resting over the table, exposing the heart of her in such an indecent way that she resisted.
The hunger in his face was possessive, all-consuming, his grip over her calf unrelenting. “No, don’t hide. Leah, never hide yourself from me.”
Palm down, he touched her everywhere, from her shoulders bones to the valley between her breasts, from her abdomen to finally the one spot that ached for his attention.
When he covered her mound with his hand and pressed with the pad of his finger, Leah jerked, a spasm of spiraling pleasure gripping her belly.
His dark hand covering her wet warmth...fire flew in her veins. “I can smell your arousal, Leah,” he whispered at her ear and she hid her face in his chest even as she reveled in his raspy voice. “That I make you feel like this...it drives me crazy in my own skin.”
With a hand in her hair, he tugged her back, his grip just a little short of bruising. Dragged his mouth over her neck, leaving a trail of heat. “Every gasp you make, every moan that escapes you...tonight, they are mine. You, pethi mou, are all mine.”
Staring into his eyes, Leah dragged him down for another kiss. “As you’re mine,” she whispered against his mouth.
She had never seen that blistering need in his eyes, never seen those commanding eyes darken like that.
Two fingers moved arrogantly over her nipple, plucking and rubbing while his gaze stayed on her face.
The heat with which he watched her made her feel even more exposed than her nakedness. That she would know what it felt to be possessed by him, that he would know her like no other man ever had, it filled her blood with thrill.
“Touch me,” he commanded.
Still being plundered mercilessly by his mouth, Leah obeyed. If this was how alive she felt in his arms, she would be his willing slave, she thought, tucking her hand under his shirt.
He was so hot, the washboard stomach instantly clenching under her fingers, the shuddering exhale of his breath drenching her...he was as far gone in this madness as she was.
When she moved her hand down, and traced his arousal with shaking fingers outside his trousers, he thrust his hips into her hand.
Such carnal need touched his arrogant features that Leah felt like a victor.
Leaving her breasts, he traced her rib cage, drew sensuous circles around her navel, impatiently pulled her thong off.
When he fingered her folds after what seemed like an eternity of waiting, Leah shivered violently. When he said, “Widen your legs,” with such possessive intent, a feverish tremble claimed her.
When he pushed a finger, then two into her wet heat followed by a string of curses, she whimpered and dug her teeth into his shoulder.
The slick glide of his fingers was intrusive, yet addictive, his touch was alien and it felt as if she had been waiting for it, her entire life.
All of her being pulsed at her sex, on the erotic movements of his fingers as they disappeared into her aching folds, on the way he pulled her into the heat of his body...
“You are so responsive, Leah, I could do this all day long,” he uttered, his other hand moving up to cover her breast again.
“I couldn’t, Stavros, please...” she begged, the ever-spiraling tension too much to bear.
His fingers slicked in and out of her on a relentless tempo, stroking the fire along her nerve endings into an inferno.
She was gasping, sinking and sobbing, and she wanted more.
His hot mouth, trailing wet heat over her skin, reached her breast. With a groan that aroused her as much as his touch, he licked the aching nipple. Stroked it and played with it and did everything except what she wanted.
“Stop torturing me,” she said in a voice that sounded alien to her own ears.
She felt his smile against her mouth. “Say ‘please, Stavros,’” he whispered against her skin. He sounded drunk, guttural.
Joining in his game, she let go of the last layer of inhibition. She refused to beg however. Refused to bend to his will when she could demand what was hers... “Put your mouth where I want and I will put my mouth where you want it,” she dared.
His curse reverberated in the dead silence, seconds before his mouth closed on her nipple.
Sensation upon sensation beat over her. Her fingers sinking into his hair, she held him at her breast. Every time he closed his mouth over her nipple and sucked, a thousand little tremors began in her lower belly.
He raked the highly sensitized point with his teeth slowly, as if he was savoring every second of it and Leah came with a scream that shattered the hot silence.
Everything inside her splintered into a thousand shards as the tremors piled on and on in mind-numbing pleasure.
Even as her voice turned hoarse with her continued gasps and screams, even as her breath left her lungs entirely, he didn’t let go. His fingers continued their assault, wringing every last pull of her muscles, turning her into a mass of shuddering sensation.
When he let go of her, she flopped onto him, damp and hot and shivering, her limbs incapable of independent motion.
She heard the rasp of his zipper, followed by the quiet swish of his trousers falling and somehow, managed to look up.
The streak of color in his tight cheeks, that muscular chest falling and rising, the washboard abs, and his erection, thick and corded, lying against his belly... He was a vision, a sight she thought she would never see.
A new friction began to build between her thighs. “Wow,” she said, reaching out to touch him.
The velvety weight of him was nothing like she had imagined.
Tawny irises dilated to dark pools as she wrapped her hand around it.
Tiny tremors pulsed through her sex as she rubbed the soft tip, and she marveled at her own body’s reaction to him. He hissed out a breath as she tested the weight and feel of it. Cursed as she fisted him and moved up and down in a movement as instinctual as breathing.
“I’m ready to keep my word now,” she said boldly, intent on tasting him, intent on driving him as mad as he had done her.
A dark smile warmed his gaze. “Yes?”
She nodded.
“I have not tasted you either, ne?” he said with such carnal intent that she instinctively clutched her thighs together.
But he jammed a rock-hard thigh in between. Her sensitive core rubbed against that hard thigh and a whimper escaped her.
Tugging her head back, he ravished her mouth until her lips stung. Every inch of her vibrated. “This madness, it is only beginning, pethi mou. Another night, we will taste each other.”
He was so velvety hard in her hand and the need to know how he would feel inside her, the need to know Stavros in this raw moment...
“Do not look away, Leah. I want to see every expression on your face, I want to hear every sound you make.”
One hand moved over her body in long, lingering strokes, over her breasts, over her stomach, and then, in one thrust that breached her virginity, in one movement that changed her forever, he entered her.
CHAPTER TWELVE
THE PAIN THAT streaked through Leah’s eyes, the jagged whimper that fell from her swollen mouth arrested Stavros when he would have thrust deeper inside her. The walls of her sex were so tight around his rigid shaft, the friction so unbearably good that he had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop.
The taste of his own blood finally punctured that haze.
Slowly, as if he was waking through a fog that owned his senses, he tried to shake off the fever that clung to his skin and muscles. The dawn of truth on his lust-riddled brain was slow, excruciating.
Cristos, she was as untried in body, as innocent as she had been of all the wrongs he had attributed to her.
Another horribly wrong misstep on his part.
He had taken her so roughly, on his bloody desk of all places! For five years, he had lived like a monk and now, pushed inside her like an animal...
Shame and fury roped together inside. He wanted to pound his fist into the desk. The only thing that stopped him was the thought of scaring her.
Sweat beaded on his brow. Marshaling his thoughts by the skin of his teeth, he looked down at her. Her pinched lips, the white pallor of her cheeks...it was like a lash against his skin.
“Looks like more lies, little wife,” he snarled.
Color returned to her cheeks and with it, that reckless defiance that had given him sleepless nights. Like a bloody switch, he hardened even more inside her. “You assumed everything about me,” she replied, her fingers digging into his shoulders.
Every inch of him felt the heat of her fingers, of her breath feathering over his skin.
He was so aroused, his body so out of his control that he closed his eyes and willed his breath to calm down. Holding her hips, he slowly pulled out, the slick slide of her walls too much temptation to resist.
She stole her hand under his shirt, searching, caressing, possessive. Like she owned him. Like he hadn’t just breached her virginity like a marauding animal. Like she knew her way around a man’s body.
No, his body, he corrected himself, as the feathered strokes of her fingers wreaked hell on his better intentions.
She had and she would only ever know his body, came the utterly useless and distracting thought.
Her soft fingers reached his buttocks and she dug her nails in. Sharp and hard. She pushed closer with her bottom until her breasts rasped against his chest. Pleasure burst forth in his belly and the back of his thighs and he pushed into her wet heat, despite himself.