When She Fell for the Billionaire(37)

His hips rocked slowly as he inched forward in increments, retreating then advancing a bit farther, her depths clasping him deeper and tighter until her hands grasped his buttocks and urged him all the way in. He took it as a signal, and this time when he pulled almost all the way out and drove into her balls deep, her throaty cry was one of pleasure. He swooped down, his lips tugging on a pointed nipple as his finger found the equally hard and swollen nub nestled between her folds. He felt her hands on his hair, grasping. Still not releasing her nipple, he glanced up and he almost came. Her mouth was parted, her head thrashing sideways. He flicked her nub faster and he heard her breath catching.

He felt it then, the build-up of pressure at the back of his spine. With a deep breath, he willed it down. Not yet. He cupped her buttocks and lifted it, her legs automatically wrapping around his waist. He fell forward, his hands flanking her head. He needed to see her when she fragmented.

They began rocking again. This time, she met him thrust for thrust. A fine sheen of perspiration shimmered on her hairline and at the sides of her neck. Luca licked it, making the muscles between her legs clench. He groaned. He unroped her legs. They dropped and splayed open. He grabbed her hips and slammed into her ferociously, repeatedly, until her head bumped the headboard with a thump.

“Dio! I’m sorry.” He cupped her head, rubbing it soothingly.

“It’s okay,” she whispered roughly. “I like seeing you out of control.”

“You don’t know what you’re asking for, strega.”

She seemed to ponder this a bit. “Then show me.”

In answer, he grasped her hands. “You asked for it.” With a low growl, Luca let loose. He drove into her like a man possessed. In a dim corner of his mind, he knew he had never acted this way with his previous lovers. He would never hurt her, never hurt a woman, but if he frightened her with his lack of control, his finesse, then so be it.

He felt it again, the pressure that had never really gone away, but now it was surfacing to the fore, building, becoming heavier. Not long now. He reached between them, wanting her to be with him when the fire consumed him.

She came first, her inner muscles rippling along his hard length. Then it was too much. He went up in flames. A guttural sound tore from his throat. Fire spread down his legs to his toes, and then everything went dark and silent for unaccounted seconds. He collapsed face down, shattered. When his heart had finally stopped pounding like it was going to tear itself out of his chest, he lifted his head slowly, oddly hesitant of what he was going to find on her face.

She was staring up at the sky through the glass panel, looking bewildered, unsettled, as if any moment the sky would fall on them. That made two of them.

His movement must have alerted her because she started turning her head towards him. He tensed because he didn’t know what to expect. Dio! If he’d hurt her, he’d never be able to forgive himself.

Instead, there was no emotion he could glean from her brown eyes as they roved past his face and down to their hands beside her head. He followed her gaze. He was disturbed to find their hands were still intertwined.

But not as disturbing apparently as she found it because she suddenly burst into tears.

It burst out of nowhere. The waterworks.

One minute her body was tensing up, like a string tied to a peg that was being wound up tighter and tighter. She barely registered his huskily spoken words, asking her if she was alright, if he was hurting her, if she liked what he was doing as she writhed underneath him. She wanted to tell him to stop, that the sensations were too much, but perversely she didn’t want the delicious agony to end. She was going to snap soon, and she feared cracking into a thousand pieces. He was in her–hot, thick, and deep, his unique male scent surrounding her, the harsh rasp of his breathing in the silent room an erotic counterpoint to her own ragged breaths.

He was looking down where they were joined, his lips parted, a lock of dark hair falling across his forehead. Her muscles clenched and his head jerked up, his eyes heavy-lidded.

“Eyes on me, strega,” he said, his jaw clenched, his nostrils flaring as he changed the angle of his hips, hitting the trigger spot. He gave her hand a squeeze and commanded hoarsely, “Now.”

Her pelvic muscles spasmed as if conditioned to obey his order. “Oh God,” she groaned deeply, bracing herself. Then she felt like she was knocked out of her body and was being hurtled through the glass panel and out into the open skies for brief seconds, the feeling of horror and exhilaration so acute before she came crashing back to earth mute, deaf, and blind. Disoriented.

When she regained her senses, she saw their hands were still clasped. He had anchored her while she floated on the upwind of her orgasm.