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“Straddle me,” he commanded softly.
Coming around to his side of the desk, she held on to the back of his chair and arranged a leg either side of him. If he could be distant, so could she. She had no intention of laying her heart on the floor for Dante Formosa to stamp on. This was an exercise in pleasure and nothing more—for both of them. He pressed her legs wider still. She guessed he liked to see her that way. Looking down, she knew why. He was so big, and she seemed so tiny by comparison. He would possess every inch of her, utterly and completely when she lowered herself down. She did so slowly and carefully, astonished as always at the way he stretched her. Was it even possible to take him to the hilt?
“That’s right,” he encouraged in a lazy drawl. “Work your way down slowly.” Cupping her buttocks in his big, rough hands, he worked his hips until he was firmly lodged to the hilt. “Good?”
“Oh yes,” she gasped when he flexed inside her.
“Ride me,” he commanded.
She did so, firmly and rhythmically, and only moments later screamed out her release.
When she quieted and was resting against him as she recovered, she asked, “How much fuel does that get me?”
She was rewarded with a smart slap across the buttocks. She came immediately, and enjoyed the most violent release yet.
His tu
rn now, she guessed as he ripped a foil. “What if I can’t take any more?”
“Gaze at the ceiling and think of England—or Ireland, in your case.”
“You’re all heart.”
“And cock. Which is why you’re here.”
Rose only wished she could argue, but however much she wanted this…thing with Dante to be more, she knew that was asking the impossible.
But if this was all it could ever be, she’d take it. So much for pride, she concluded with a cry of excitement as Dante took her again.
~~o0o~~
“The jet will leave at noon tomorrow,” he told Rose a good time later when they were straightening their clothes.
“I’ll be there. I can’t thank you enough—”
“Don’t thank me. You honored your side of the bargain. I’ll honor mine.” He knew how cold that sounded, but it was the truth. His emotional bank was dry. He couldn’t pretend otherwise. She was better off without him. But as the blood drained from her face, and hurt replaced her brief elation at the thought of returning home to help her father, he did feel something.
“Don’t you care what people think of you?” she asked at the door.
He shrugged. “Should I?” He hardened himself to the tears in her eyes.
“Why are you like this, Dante?”
“Like what? Just do as I ask. Be ready to leave for the airstrip after breakfast. Miguel will take you. Good luck in Ireland.”
She paused with her back turned to him. “Thank you again.”
“Stay safe,” he added fiercely.
~~o0o~~
Dante’s big jet landed on his private airstrip in Ireland. Was there anything this man didn’t own? She still wasn’t over him not coming with her—his loss. Hers too, Rose grudgingly admitted as she impatiently dashed away tears. When would Rose Delaney get it through her thick skull that Dante Formosa wasn’t capable of normal human feelings, while she, Rose Delaney, headstrong Celt, was overburdened with them?
But it was good to be home, Rose conceded as the jet touched down with barely a bump. When it taxied to a halt, it surprised her to see a deluxe horse transporter waiting on the tarmac. When the engines were switched off, the cabin attendant handed over a set of keys and explained that the vehicle was for Rose’s use. “And I have a message for you from Senor Formosa,” he added.
“For me?” Rose’s heart lifted, and just as quickly sank again. The cabin attendant looked so uncomfortable, he made her nervous.
“I’ve been under strict instructions not to tell you this until we landed,” he explained.
