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Normally, the knowledge that she was safe and warm inside whilst outside ice cold rain sleeted down would have given her a feeling of delicious security, especially if she was wrapped up tightly in Marcos arms. But of course she wasn't. Was he tiring of her?
Marco could hear Emily breathing softly behind him. His body craved the release physically possessing her would bring, and why shouldn't he have it? he asked himself. He had already decided on the financial amount he was prepared to give Emily in recognition of the time they had spent together—a very generous one.
So generous that he felt justified now in thinking that he might as well continue to enjoy her. He couldn't entirely get his head around the fact that he wanted Emily still, when other women who had shared his bed before her—women who had been so much more experienced and sexually enterprising—had bored him so quickly. It surprised him even more that he had actually grown to want her company away from bed to the extent of talking to her about his business, and allowing her to persuade him to make donations to her precious charity.
He had scarcely even been able to believe it at first when he had found out how much of her modest income she gave to helping a foundation set up to help London's deprived children and teenagers. Emily would not approve of his grandfather's refusal to do anything to help the least wealthy of Nirolis people; King Giorgio did not see the sense of educating the poor to expect more out of life than he felt the island could give them.
No. Emily was definitely not suitable material as the King of Nirolis mistress. But of course, he was not yet King. Purposefully Marco moved, swiftly reaching for her briefly studying the outline of her figure, the curve of her breast making him remember how perfectly its softness fitted into his cupped hand. As always, the strongly sensual core of his nature reacted to Emilys nearness. He might have already made love with her a thousand times and more during their relationship, but that couldn't dim the fierce desire he felt now.
Somewhere deep down within himself he registered the potential danger of such a compulsion and then dismissed it. He intended to end his affair with her before he left for Niroli. He'd make sure that no vestige of longing for her would cling to his memory or his senses; he was determined she would be easily replaced in his bed. If his body recognised something in her that was particularly enjoyable, that did not mean that he was in danger of craving her for ever. He relaxed as he dismissed as ludicrous the notion that he was at any kind of risk from his desire for her.
The moment Marco touched her. Emily could feel her body becoming softly compliant, outwardly and inwardly, where it tightened and ached, the desire for him that never left her ramping up with a swift familiarity. Marco pushed back the bedclothes; a thin beam of moonlight silvered her breast, plucking sensually at her nipple and tightening it for his visual appreciation and enjoyment. He traced its circle of light, making her shiver with pleasure whilst her back began to arch in an age-old symbolic female gesture of enticement in offering her flesh to her lover.
Marcos hands tightened on Emilys slender form. She looked up at him her eyes wide with arousal and excitement as she reached up to him. All that mattered to him right now was his possession of her. His pleasure found in witnessing her ecstasy as he took her and filled her losing himself in her and taking her with him.
His need pounded through him obliterating everything else. He pushed aside her hair and kissed the side of her neck where he knew his touch reduced her to quivering delight, his hands cupping her breasts, kneading them erotically his erection already stiff against her thigh where he had locked her to him with one out-flung leg.
Emily smiled to herself. Sex to Marco meant physically claiming every bit of her. Even when he kissed her casually, he liked to have her body in full contact with his. Not that she minded. Not one little bit! She loved the possessive sensuality of his desire for her. It was only in his arms, here like this, that she was truly able to let her real feelings have their head, instead of fighting to preserve the protective air of calm control she normally used to conceal them. When he made love to her. Marco never held back from showing her his passion for her which, in turn, allowed her to set free her equally passionate longing for him.
There was sometimes something almost pagan in the way they made love that secretly sometimes half shocked her. Always attuned to Marcos moods, tonight she sensed an urgency about him that added an extra edge to her own growing sexual tension. She gave a soft whimper as his mouth took the silvered ache of her nipple and his hand accepted the invitation of her open legs.
