“I’ve wanted to bend you over from the moment I saw you,” he growled. “To see you like this, your ass high in the air, that sweet pussy wet in front of me…you have no idea what it does to me. I could fuck you all night long.”
“Slowly,” she whispered, and he laughed.
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“So now you want slow fucking? But it is not next time yet, and I am far from done with you.”
He slammed into her, once, twice, again and again, demanding her body accept him. Lyra moaned, dropping her head against the couch. His cock head was pushing against that part of her that made her feel faint, her back bowed automatically to allow him complete access, and all of a sudden it wasn’t painful any more.
It was wonderful.
“Yes,” she moaned. “Yes.”
He growled above her, and she twisted a little to look at him over her shoulder. His eyes were closed, his tie askew, tension stamped across his face. He was so freaking good looking. There was nothing about him that wasn’t, and he was inside of her, fucking her.
The thought was enough to make Lyra drench his dick all over again. She went limp, let her body comply with his demands, and demand he did. He fucked her as hard and fast as he had the first time, giving no quarter, expecting her to submit completely. And it was no surprise at all when another orgasm began to build, or when they both groaned their pleasure at pretty much the same time.
Chapter Eight
“Good morning.”
Andros looked up from his morning espresso to see Lyra standing in the doorway to the dining room. He’d left her sleeping when he awoke. An early riser, it made no difference to him whether he got eight hours or three, he still woke up at six regardless. Lyra, however, had clearly needed more sleep. He knew he’d pushed her to the limit, teasing orgasm after orgasm out of her whether she wanted them or not.
She stood in front of him now, hair tousled, face flushed. She looked amazing.
“Is there coffee?” she asked.
He nodded, and waved a hand at the seat next to him. Dressed in the shirt he’d discarded the night before Andros couldn’t help but admire her long, long legs, as she walked across the room and sat down next to him. The long legs were a mystery to him. She was short, so really they shouldn’t seem to go on for as long as they did.
“How did you sleep?” he asked, shifting a little, because Dios, he was hardening already at the thought of those legs wrapped around his back. Which was ridiculous. They’d fucked throughout the night, fast then slow, and then fast again. He’d had her in pretty much every position he knew, kissed every inch of her delectable skin, licked her nipples until she begged him to stop. Though he hadn’t. Last night he couldn’t get enough of her. Seemed like today was going to follow the exact same pattern.
She smiled, unaware how close he was to lifting her up and dragging her back into the bedroom. “Like a log. Better than I have in a while. But then I was really tired.”
He nodded at her words. She’d fallen into an exhausted slumber sometime around four in the morning, her body pressed against his. A few hours later when he left her she’d been curled up in a little ball, her red hair fanned out across the crisp white pillow. Andros had almost paused to pick a strand up and examine it, but had shaken the thought off as soon as it had formed. He needed a little distance, and downstairs was the only place to get it, because in the cold light of day, more so now that she was so close to him, making him hard, Andros was beginning to wonder what the fuck had happened last night.
“Espresso?” he asked.
Lyra shook her head. “Is there normal coffee? Like instant?”
“You’re in the house of a Sicilian,” he replied with a sigh. “No such home would have instant coffee.”
“Oh, well I’ll try some of that then.”
He poured her a shot of the dark brew and watched as she lifted it to her lips, those plump, suckable, fuckable little lips…
What the hell was he doing? The thought hit and he scowled, before draining his own cup. He’d broken so many rules last night. He didn’t bring women back to his town house, he didn’t sleep the night with them, and he certainly did not allow them to walk around his home, dressed in his shirt, at his dining table first thing. But Lyra? She was making him crazy. It seemed the rules flew out of the window when she was near, and Andros knew, admitted to himself, that it was because of the lust.
He desired her intensely.
Furiously.
He was thinking purely with his dick. His hard, throbbing fucking dick. And if he’d thought that one night was going to be enough for him he’d been sadly mistaken.