The Russian's Ultimatum(18)

She could kiss Pascha for a lifetime. His kisses were everything she had   yearned for and more, sending ripples of pleasure careering through  her  veins and tingles of electricity zipping through her skin. His  kisses  were perfect.

She wanted to cry out when he broke away and stepped back. Without any preamble, he slid his shorts off and kicked them away.

He stood before her, fully erect.

Her breath caught in her throat. He was beautiful in every way.

He reached out a hand and placed it on her breast, simply resting it   there, his fingers gently cupping the swollen skin. Fresh desire shot   through her and she sucked in a breath, fighting the urge to close her   eyes. She wanted to see everything. She wanted to feel everything.   Beneath his touch, her nipples puckered and hardened and she arched   slightly into him, her mouth filling with moisture, the heat between her   legs growing and bubbling.

Mirroring his movement, she splayed a hand on his chest and tugged the   silky hair between her fingers, adoring the feel of his warm skin   beneath her touch, the hard satin-smoothness of it.

His free hand clasped her neck and began a lazy trail over her   collarbone and down past her breasts. Down his fingers trailed, skimming   lightly over her belly before slipping further down still.

A gasp escaped her throat and their eyes widened, mirroring each other.   Pascha was dumbfounded. He'd known she wanted him but he'd had no idea   how deeply her desire ran or how closely it matched his own throbbing   need.

Jaw clenched, he fought to keep his head, to keep some basic control.

Snaking one hand around her waist, he used the other to capture her chin   and gaze deeply into those mesmerising eyes, the flicker of fire   burning from them; they were like precious jewels. Slowly he brought his   mouth down and kissed her, her lips parting at the first touch as they   forged back together in a fury that threatened to unravel his  restraint.

Emily's fingers skimmed up his chest and her hands hooked around his   neck. She pressed into him, moving against his erection, her breasts   crushed against him.

Unable to bear the thought of breaking contact with her luscious soft   flesh, Pascha half-dragged and half-carried Emily to the bed. There,   they fell onto it in a heap, her melodious easy laughter like music.

He gazed in wonder, taking in all the features of her face, from the   large brown eyes that glowed with sensuous promise to the heart-shaped   lips curved in a half-shy, half-wanton smile. He took in the faint   smattering of freckles the sun had exposed on her delicate skin and   wondered if a more beautiful woman existed-but, no; in his eyes, that   would be impossible. Perfection was lying beneath him hooking an   impatient arm around his neck and tugging his head down to capture his   lips in a deeply passionate kiss that made his blood burn into a fever.

'You're beautiful,' he whispered before burying his face in her neck and kissing his way down to her perfectly ripe breasts.

Moving his lips over each of them in turn, his need deepening with every   second, he forced his mind to detach. He was close to the edge. He   could feel it.

Reluctantly he abandoned the softness of her breasts and snaked his way   down her body, smiling at her jolt as he moved lower. How many more of   her secrets were there to uncover?

Casting his head lower still, over her dark, downy hair, he felt her   body tense slightly when he gently prised her thighs apart and laid   between her parted legs. Gazing up at her through hooded eyes, he was   gratified to see her head thrown back, her breathing shallow through her   parted lips.

He dipped his head, his tongue immediately homing in on the nub of her   pleasure. She tasted wonderful, of musky, sexy woman. Her breathy,   responsive whimpers only served to fire him further, and when her   fingers clasped his hair, and she raised her buttocks and writhed   beneath him, he feared his own peak was nearing.

And then he felt her stiffen, her whole body lifting from the mattress,   her fingers digging into his scalp as her orgasm rippled through her.

The white light flickering behind Emily's eyelids slowly dispersed. The   deep pulses flowing through her body dissolved into a trillion tiny   tingles that burrowed from the tips of her toes all the way up to her   scalp. Dazed, she lifted her head up and opened her eyes. Pascha's chin   now rested on her abdomen and he was gazing at her with something akin   to wonder.                       
       
           



       

Wordlessly he crawled up the length of her body until he was on top of   her, his nose touching hers. Their lips came together and she wrapped   her arms around him, the bodies pressed together so tightly it was   impossible to know where she began and he ended.

A whimper of panic flew from her mouth when he pulled-ripped-away from their embrace.

Placing a tender finger to her lips, he smiled crookedly. 'I must get some protection.'

She twitched a nod and attempted a smile in return. As she watched his   retreating figure head to the bathroom, she took deep breaths, trying   desperately to contain the ragged beat of her heart.

Pascha was back by her side in less than thirty seconds yet those beats seemed interminably long.

Her gaze moved to the square silver packet in his hand.

He gathered a handful of curls and moved them aside to place a solitary   kiss on her neck. Looking back at her, his eyes burned, sparkles flying   into her and liquefying her core all over again. 'Do you want to put  it  on?'

But Emily's hand was shaking. It was nothing but anticipation, she   frantically told herself. She was a twenty-first-century woman.

So why, then, did she suddenly feel so vulnerable?

She wanted this more than she had wanted anything in her life. And that was terrifying.

He leaned forward and kissed her, a kiss full of passion and hunger, a   kiss that blew everything else from her mind. She slipped a hand down   his arm and caught hold of his fingers. Together, their lips still   locked, they rolled the condom on. Done, Pascha smoothly manoeuvred her   onto her back and pushed her legs apart, his big hands stroking her   thighs before curving up her sides, up the sides of her breasts, up to   her neck, before resting on the pillow either side of her head.

Her lips suddenly cold as he broke the kiss, Emily's eyes fluttered open and locked onto his.

The sensation of drowning flooded her. She could feel the strong thud of   his heart hammering against his chest, reverberating through her skin   and burrowing through her ribcage to match the unsteady tempo of her   own.

Pascha placed his lips on her mouth, just a light pressure, his breath   flowing into her pores and filling her mouth with sweet heat and   moisture. Every nerve-ending in her body burned, demanding his   possession, and when he finally entered her she had no control over the   high-pitched moan that flew from her mouth.

Keeping her eyes wide open, she raised a hand to his cheek, savouring the feel of him inside her, filling her completely.

His movements were torturously controlled as he began to move, his   kisses intensifying as he deepened the penetration, their bodies fusing   into one pulsating, rhythmic mass.

Emily was helpless in his arms, unable to do anything but clasp tight to   him and repeat his name over and over in a desperate voice that was  not  her own, taking every ounce of the pleasure he was bestowing.  Pascha  began to drive harder and faster into her and still all she  could do was  cling to him, nothing but willing putty in his hands  until, finally,  the tension tightening in her core exploded. Waves of  pulsating ripples  tore through her into a crescendo of colour that  blinded her in its  brilliance.

Dimly she was aware of his movements becoming more frantic, his groans   deepening until he gave one last powerful thrust and crashed on top of   her.

For long minutes her head was nothing but mist. Pascha's breath was hot   on her neck. Her fingers idly caressed his scalp and the nape of his   neck, her eyes locked on the ceiling.

As the mist began to clear and the sensations absorbing her body started   to lessen, the world came back into focus. But it was all wrong. It  was  nothing she could put her finger on; it was like looking at the  world  through a different lens, a tiny shift in the spectrum.

But that tiny shift was enough to tell her she would never be the same again.





 CHAPTER NINE

THE STORM HAD cleared when Emily awoke, a beam of light pouring through the small porthole.

Pascha's side of the bed was empty.

She looked at her watch. It was only eight a.m. and she'd only had   minimal sleep but it had been enough to see her through what she already   knew was going to be a long day.