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She pushed up and bit his shoulder, her teeth hard against his
muscles.
“Yes,” she agreed, simply, but the word was rushed, burning from her with heat and need. He pulled out of her and drove himself back in, deeper, harder, watching her face as she scrunched it with pleasure. He caught her hands in his and held them above her head so her body was his prisoner and he moved himself, possessing her completely, his body claiming hers, making it his, making her his until she was capable of saying only his name. And she said it again and again, spilling the word into the room, so he was sure when this was over he would never lie here again without hearing the ghosts of her voice chasing themselves around the space.
“Don’t stop,” she cried, lifting her legs and wrapping them around his waist, holding him deep inside her. “Please, whatever you do, don’t stop.”
“I won’t,” he promised, kissing her, his tongue moving in time with his cock, his body instinctively understanding what she needed and doing everything he could to deliver it.
“Oh, God.” She was moaning over and over, pulling at her wrists, freeing her hands to run down his back, her nails digging so deep he was sure she was drawing blood. And he didn’t care. Battle scars. Proof of this – an earth-shattering coupling that was robbing him of breath and sense until she tipped over the edge, her muscles squeezing him so tight he stilled, propping on his elbows so he could watch this moment, watch the way she exploded, her features a mask of unbridled pleasure, her brow beaded with fine perspiration, her face pink and flushed. She slammed her palms into the mattress as though she couldn’t contain herself; he was transfixed. She was an image of sensual heat and he was wild with wanting her – more than he was already possessing her, he needed to explode with her, to chase her orgasm with his own, but he knew that when he surrendered to that bliss and euphoria, it would bring an end to this and he wasn’t ready for that. No, not yet.
He wanted to give her more, and he wanted to watch her explode.
“I could do this all day,” he groaned, moving again, slowly, letting her body come down from its high, so her sensitive flesh could recover as he gently brought her back to life.
“Okay,” she grinned, a feline smile that spread gold dust through his body. “If you say so.”
He laughed gruffly. “Be careful what you wish for.” And to demonstrate his meaning, he drove himself into her: deep, hard, purposeful, each stroke of his arousal and possession that flared her eyes and filled them with a matching degree of animalistic need.
“Is that a promise?” She panted, her eyes closing.
He swore under his breath. “Yeah.”
“Good.” A purr. It drove him wild, so he felt the first fragment of his control slipping completely away from him, but he knew that even once he’d climaxed, he’d do this again. Once wasn’t going to be enough.
Who the hell was this woman and what wild twist of fate had blown her into his life on this storm-filled afternoon? Was she real? Or one of the ancient sirene fabled to survey this landscape? It beggared belief that this could be happening.
“Nico, I’m…” but she didn’t need to finish the sentence. He could feel her reaching fever-pitch, her muscles clamping around his length, her body flushing, her cries of his name getting louder, higher in volume, until her body was squeezing his and he answered her this time, holding her tight to him as he pushed into her again and again, spilling his seed, his voice a guttural cry in his bedroom.
Their ragged breathing was a symphony, in, out, thick, throaty, spent. He held her as her breathing slowed, the madness that had overtaken them receding a little now that relief had been afforded.
She turned her face towards the window; he felt her move, he felt her everything. “It’s stopped raining.” The observation was slumberous. He pulled up a little, running his fingertips over her cheek so she blinked her eyes to him and smiled. A burst of relief filled him. There was no self-consciousness in her expression – just heady, intoxicated satiation.
He understood that. His limbs were heavy in that delicious way sex brought about. Not just sex – great sex, like this. Wild, uninhibited, passionate, completely fulfilling. He dropped his hand to her breast, his eyes on hers as he traced the outline of her nipple, circling it slowly until she shivered and he felt her muscles squeeze his length with renewed need.
It wasn’t over, and he was glad. So glad. He rolled off her but didn’t leave the bed. On his back, he drew her against him, so her head was on his chest, and he lay like that, listening to her breathing, feeling it becoming more rhythmic, more slumberous, heavier. And he wondered again who she was and why she’d ended up in his home – and thanking Dio that she had.
“Ondechiara. Do you go there often?”
“I’ve only been once.” He lifted his broad shoulders, his body strong, his frame bulky. “With one of my closest friends.”
“Well, I think it sounds perfect. I’d love to see it.”
“I’ll take you there one day.”
“I’d like that.”
“My friend has a house high up on the hill. Then again, he has a house high up on every hill – that’s a billionaire’s prerogative I suppose.” Michael had always been a little jealous. When Maddie had met him, she’d put it down to the fact he’d attended one of the best schools in England as a scholarship student. He’d been surrounded by some of the wealthiest children in Europe but had grown up in abject poverty – a hard difference to accept as a teenager.
“Is that why you went there?”
“No, I went because of the seafood,” he rolled his eyes condescendingly. “Of course that’s why I went. Nico goes every summer – has done for as long as I can remember. He took me with him when we graduated school. On his private jet, no less,” Michael rolled his eyes.
“He has a private jet?” She laughed, because such a thing seemed utterly preposterous.
“He has several. But he is a Montebello, so that’s par for the course, right?” He stood up, digging his hands into his pockets. “You’ve got time to get changed into something nicer before we leave.”
“Oh.” She frowned. “I thought I’d wear this.”
