"The food will stay warm in the servers for more an hour, sir." The lilt of a Caribbean accent softened the attendant's voice.
"Grazie," Dante responded.
Within seconds, she heard the villa door close. The nearly silent tread of her husband moving toward the pool echoed through her body. She looked over and met his stare.
"Vene." He held out his hand.
Chapter 13
Lara's mahogany hair was slicked back from her face, emphasizing the deepness of her eyes and the classic oval of her face. Her emotions were blanked and he wondered for a moment...but no, it was time. He'd felt the heat of her body, felt her avid gaze upon him.
Dio, finally, she'd kissed him. For the first time, she'd made a move towards him of her own free will. His heart still jerked and chugged at the memory of her hands pulling him to her lush and waiting mouth.
He could not be mistaken about this. Could he?
For a moment, a harrowing moment, she merely stared at him.
Then she moved and he knew for sure.
She came toward him, a slow, languid stroke, as if to tease. Standing, at last, she walked until the water lapped at her hips. With one lazy move, she untied the top of her bikini, slipping the pink cups slowly off her breasts, revealing the tight rose nipples and roundness of curving flesh to his eager perusal.
A blaze of pure heat washed across his entire body.
His wife was seduction personified and she had him in her thrall.
A slight smile flickered across her face as she dropped the top at her side, letting the water steal it away. She waded to the underwater steps leading to the edge of the tile where he stood. Dante controlled the urge to grab, to clutch. He'd done that once before; he would not treat this woman with so much disrespect ever again.
Her hands came to her hips and pushed the final remnant of swimsuit down her long legs and into the water. She boldly walked up the last of the stairs and came right to his side. Her face lifted, skin glowing in the muted light, her eyes half-mast and slumberous. Her long elegant fingers touched his chest, smoothing through the coarse hair, dallying at his nipples, and then stroking across his taut stomach.
He willed himself to hold still.
It was such a pleasure for her to at last show him she desired and wanted him as much as he wanted her.
The elation was indescribable.
One of her long fingers whispered across the end of the towel, tickling his bellybutton, exploring the edge of his hip bone.
The towel slipped from his body with one demanding pull on her part.
He sucked in a breath as one soft hand moved across his naked abdomen, into the vee of his thigh and pelvis. A flutter of a touch on his tight balls and then a firm grasp around his erection. He nearly sank to his knees as his legs shook and his whole body shuddered. Her hand slipped up and down on his hard flesh, using the beads of creamy fluid on the tip of him as a lubricant to maximize his pleasure. He leaned his head back, closed his eyes, and gave himself over to the pure enjoyment and yes, relief.
She wanted him, si, she wanted him.
The gratifying realization sizzled through his bloodstream.
"You're beautiful, Dante."
A short laugh escaped through his hoarse breathing. "You are the beauty in this relationship."
She gave him no verbal response, only flicked the edge of the head of his penis in a womanly knowing of what a man desires.
He had to put a stop to this or disgrace himself.
"Enough." He grabbed her hand. "You are destroying me."
The smile returned to her face as she slipped her hand from his and lifted both arms, sliding them onto his shoulders. His hands moved to her hips, smoothing over the soft skin, molding the inward curve of her waist, then back to the roundness of her curves. She closed her eyes, her head tilting, a moan of pure pleasure escaping her lips.
With a tight rein on his passion, he tenderly tucked her into his body, relishing the feel of her breasts against his chest, and Dio, the brush of her mons on his aching cock.
A groan escaped him and his hold on any kind of thought disintegrated. "Lara, bella, it's time," he managed to say, as he licked her neck and lifted her into his shaking arms.
"I agree." Her eyes opened, honey hot in the dim light. "It's time."
Though every atom of his body screamed at him to throw her on the nearest surface, he ignored it. With a quick pace, he strode to the veranda and into the house. He would not take her for the first time on a lounge chair or against a wall. No, his wife deserved his respect. He would do this right, give her time, honor her body. All in a bed.
Her light breath brushed his neck as she kissed the edge of his ear and nipped at the earlobe. An electric sensation shot down his spine and tightened the muscles of his thighs and his scrotum.
"Ho bisogno di te," he rasped against her mouth. I need you.
Desperately.
Pushing the bedroom door aside, he laid his wife on the smooth Egyptian cotton duvet covering the king-size bed. The soft blues and creams of the bedspread contrasted with the perfect peach of her skin and the darkness of her hair. Her hands clasped his neck, pulling him down with her before he could catch his breath or dampen his lust. Her body arched into his, her hips rolling in a movement as old as time.
"Lara," he gasped. "Slow down, il mio amore."
Her hands moved across his shoulders, down his sides. Her touch was warm and soft, making him tingle and arch into her caress. Yet when she reached his ass, her grasp became firm and strong. "No," she purred as his mouth covered hers, then slid to her cheek. "I want you now."
Sweat broke out on the length of his spine. He sucked in one breath before expelling it in an intense blast as her legs slid open and his aching cock slipped into her heated, wet notch.
"Wait," he panted.
He would not act the part of a brute again. He would not. Summoning every inch of his determination, he pulled himself away from her tempting body. He would prove to her he was a lover with skill, a lover who spent more time ensuring her pleasure than his own. He would not lose control.
His wife would have none of it.
"Come here." Her strong arms yanked him back into contact with every curve and dip, every silky sweet inch of her skin.
And he lost the battle.
"Aaah," he moaned and with no conscious thought, surged inside the depths of this woman he'd wanted with a violent intensity for too long. His body and hers took over any deliberation or decision on his part. The honeyed slip and ease of him into her, the stroke of her wet flesh along his hot, hard length.
The pounding clamor of desire pumped through him, and his hips moved without will, without consideration. The rush of sensation as he eased out and into her tight, narrow entry pushed his fabled concentration far from his grasp. He was totally in her possession, totally submitted to her-the sweet, tangy fragrance of her arousal, the supple lushness of her curves, the mysterious depths of her desire-filled eyes. She moved with him, her hips setting a fierce pace, pushing him, pulling him towards the end of everything.
He tried to slow the slamming drum of their copulation.
He tried to grasp the threads of some kind of command, if only to ensure she would be with him completely as he jumped into mindless pleasure. But somehow, with some female instinct as old as Eve, she sensed his purpose and countered with the blatant movement of her long, lithe legs.
The slip of her calves smoothed over the hair on his thighs and then onto his lower back, sending tingling electricity through his nerves and muscles and bones. The subtle new angle of her body shifted the sensation on his cock, tightening her hold on him.
Her legs clamped around his waist.
He was lost to her power, thrusting and pushing, dimly aware of the fast pace of her breath and the sharp cut of her nails as they tightened on his heaving shoulders.
Scalding heat blasted straight down his spine, curving through his thighs and shooting up the length of him buried so deeply inside her wet, welcoming warmth. There was no hope for him, no possibility of keeping control.
"Lara," he groaned between panting breaths.
Her eyes closed and her head arched on the pillow. A long, low moan of passion slipped from her mouth, and her nails bit into his skin, signaling the reaching of her peak. Her inner muscles clenched and softened around him, pushing, pushing him out, far out past the edge of his reason.
Swearing, sweating, his every muscle tensing, he threw his head back. The cry emanating from his mouth was utterly male and visceral in its conquering command. Jerking and moaning, he plunged into her, spilling his seed, marking her as his.