"Aren't you going to answer your phone?"
"Ignore it," he said, flashing a grin. "It's just Nicco."
Paris felt a twinge of guilt and wondered if Rafael was having second thoughts about being with her. Her doubts grew and her desire fizzled. "You're supposed to be going clubbing with your brothers tonight. Won't they be disappointed if you blow them off?"
"Don't know. Don't care."
"Of course you do," she argued. "They're your family."
"True, but you're the sexiest woman in Venice and I'd rather be here with you than in a smoky nightclub with my brothers and their fiancées."
"I'm flattered."
Rafael nipped at her earlobe and cupped her ass in his hands. "I aim to please."
His low raspy voice aroused her, causing her breath to catch on a moan.
"This dress is in my way," he grumbled. "It needs to go. Now."
Paris felt him fumbling for the zipper of her gown and gasped when she heard the fabric ripping. "Rafael, stop!" she shrieked, bracing her hands against his muscled chest. "This is a Badgley Mischka gown, and it cost five grand!"
"And?" Moonlight cast a faint glow inside the suite and illuminated the amused expression on his lean, chiseled face. "I can afford to buy you the entire collection, and anything else your heart desires. You know that."
"When did you get so smug?"
He pinned her hands high above her head. "When you lured me inside your suite."
"Is that what happened?"
"Isn't it?"
Paris unzipped her dress, watched it fall to the floor in a glitzy heap and kicked it aside. Standing in front of Rafael in just her jewelry made her feel confident, sexier than ever. Her alcohol-induced buzz was bringing out her inner sex kitten, a side she never knew she had, but wanted to discover.
"You're not wearing any panties."
His breath tickled her ears and the lips between her legs.
"Are you disappointed?"
Rafael gave a slow nod. "I wanted to rip them off."
"Next time."
Crushing his lips to her mouth, he flicked and licked her tongue with his own. His hands rode up her thighs, stroked her hips and stomach. Moans and groans fell from her lips, becoming a slow, erotic chant. Her heart was beating fast, out of control, and she felt exhilarated, as if she was floating in the evening sky.
The room spun at a dizzying speed. Something primal came over her, something so strong and powerful she could hardly breathe. Her body shivered and trembled.
Her temperature climbed, shot through the roof like a rocket. Paris feared she was going to black out, wondered if it was possible for a woman to die of pleasure. Rafael was the world's greatest kisser, always had been. He did things with his lips and tongue that should be illegal. Tremors stabbed her flesh, zigzagged down her spine and legs. I can't take any more.... This is all too much and we haven't even had sex yet!
Feeling hot way down below, as if her clit was on fire, she felt her limbs grow heavy and her body go weak. Paris loved taking charge in the bedroom and wasn't afraid to speak her mind, but Rafael didn't need any pointers. It was as if they were still in college, as if fifteen years hadn't passed since they'd last seen each other.
His touch was electrifying, the best thing that had ever happened to her body. Her urges grew stronger, more frenzied and intense. Paris needed him now, ached to feel him inside her, and what she did next shocked them both. She took his index finger, licked it like a lollipop and then guided it between her thighs. Hooking a leg around his waist, she thrust her hips forward, invited him to feel her wetness.
To give him better access to her clit, Paris arched her spine and spread herself wide open. He moved his fingers in and out, back and forth, from side to delicious side. Tingles danced up her thighs and warmed her throbbing, aching clit. Gripping his forearm to hold him in place, she rode his fingers hard and fast, with all the lust and desire pulsing through her veins.
Electric shocks pricked her flesh, stabbed and tickled her clit. Pleasure built, rose to unimaginable heights. Throwing her head back in ecstasy, Paris pressed her eyes shut and rode out the wave that claimed her body. Her climax was explosive, the most powerful orgasm she'd ever had, and several seconds passed before her feet touched the ground.
Hot and desperate for more, she seized his erection and stroked it over the lips between her thighs. Rafael groaned as if tormented, then pulled away. "We can't do this...."
Paris blinked, slowly surfaced from her haze. It was hard to focus, impossible to listen to what he was saying. Rafael was naked, standing before her in all his masculine glory with a long, thick erection. His length was unbelievable, jaw-dropping, and all Paris could think about was riding all eight inches.
"Angel eyes, we have to stop. I don't have any protection on me."
Paris smiled, and her heart danced inside her chest. Hearing Rafael use her old pet name made her want him even more. "I'm on the pill, and I've never had an STD."
"Me neither, but-"
"You know me, Rafael. You can trust me."
He paused and then shook his head. "There's a convenience store a few blocks from here. I'll be back before you know it."
Paris locked her arms around his neck. For good measure, she cradled his head in her hands and made sweet, sensuous love to his mouth. "You're not going anywhere," she whispered, scattering soft kisses along his jawline. "You're staying here with me, and that's that."
A grin lit his eyes. "When did you get so feisty?"
"When you ripped off my designer gown."
Rafael chuckled.
She sucked his earlobe into her mouth, showing him what he'd be missing if he ditched her. "Don't go. I need you right here, right now...."
A wild, crazed expression darkened his handsome face.
He gripped her hips, drove powerfully inside her, thrust in and out at a furious, frantic speed. His length consumed and possessed her. Rafael gave her everything he had, everything she needed. His stroke pushed her to the edge of delirium. Every grind shook her to the core. Their lovemaking was everything she was looking for-erotic, sensuous and passionate-and Paris didn't want it to ever end.
Rafael tickled her ear with his tongue, licked and nibbled as if it was a candy cane, and she all but lost her mind. Savage grunts and groans exploded from her mouth, and she bucked against him like an out-of-control mare.
To stop from crying out and waking up everyone on the sixth floor, Paris clamped her lips together and buried her face in his chest. The tingling sensation in her feet coursed up her legs and shot straight to her core. Spasms caused her muscles to tense, her G-spot to tingle and throb. Rafael had the best sexual technique known to man, and his moves were erotic. But what impressed her most was his selflessness. All he cared about was pleasing her, and she adored him for it. He was in a league of his own, and no one would ever take his place in her heart.
Rafael mashed her breasts together, and when he flicked his tongue over each erect nipple, an explosion erupted between Paris's legs. She couldn't think, lost all sense of time and place. Her body felt weightless, and she was quivering uncontrollably. Her breath came in short, quick gasps and her heartbeat drummed in her ears. Rafael clutched her hips and thrust so deep inside her she shuddered and climaxed. One orgasm followed another, and soon she lost count of how many times she'd come.
Seconds passed before the room stopped spinning. The fragrance of their lovemaking was intoxicating, a sweet aroma that filled every inch of her posh, sixth-floor suite. Paris opened her eyes, took one look at Rafael and decided the businessman with the brilliant mind and quiet demeanor was the sexiest man on the face of the earth. He'd brought her to orgasm in a way no one had before, and although they'd just finished, Paris was ready for rounds two, three and four. Damn, she thought, blowing out a deep breath.
"That was incredible," Rafael exclaimed, lowering her to the ground.
"I bet you say that to all your lovers."
He shook his head and cupped her chin in his palm. His gaze was deadly, filled with such passion and heat, it consumed her. "Not everyone. Just you."
He spoke softly to her, in a quiet, subdued voice, but Paris heard his desire, his hunger. "You're a woman who isn't afraid to take control of her pleasure. I like that."
"And I like the way you make me feel. Your stroke is out of this world."