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He crushed her body against his, her now bare breasts feeling tender against his chest. Her nipples scraping against his chest hair. And she loved it. The intensity of it. That was another thing. She hadn’t realized it would be like this. In her mind, making love was something gauzy and sweet. But this felt raw. A feast for her every sense. The smell of his skin, the touch of his hands. The rough and the soft. Pain and pleasure. Desire that took root so deep it was uncomfortable.
A desperation for satisfaction and a need for the torment to be drawn out, so she could exist like this forever. Balancing on a wire, precarious and brave, suspended over a glittering and breathless night sky.
If she fell, she was sure she would fall forever.
But if she didn’t fall...
Well, then she would never know.
Both were terrifying.
Both were exhilarating.
And when he laid her down on the plush carpet by the fire and pushed his hand beneath the waistband of her panties, she felt her control, along with that wire, begin to fray.
His fingers were deft, finding the center of her need, stoking the fire inside of her and raising the flame of her need to unbearable levels.
Dimly, she thought she should maybe be embarrassed about all of this. It was the first time a man had ever touched her like this. The first time a man had ever seen her naked. But she felt no shame. None at all. Because it was him. And that made no sense, because he was a virtual stranger.
But not in the ways that counted. Not in those places that no one else could see, or reach.
He was a beast, transformed by the sins of his father. And she was a captive because of the sins of hers.
They both had big houses. Wealth. Certain amounts of power.
They were both alone in many ways. But not here. Not now.
So there was nothing to be embarrassed about. Nothing to be ashamed of. When his mouth abandoned hers and began to move downward, her breath hitched, her body growing tense. He moved to her breast first, sucking one tightened bud between his lips, extracting a gasp from her, making her writhe with pleasure. He pressed his hand firmly between her breasts, his touch quieting her before he moved those knowing fingers back down between her legs. Teased her slick folds, pressed a finger inside of her.
She squirmed, trying to wiggle away from the invasion. Until he began to stroke the center of her need with his thumb, the strangeness of the penetration easing as desire began to build.
He kissed a path down her stomach, down farther still, and replaced his thumb with his wicked lips and tongue, stroking her inside in time with those movements.
She shivered, her desire building to unbearable levels.
“My name,” he growled against her tender flesh. “Say my name. So that I know.”
How could he doubt it? Of course it was only his name. She didn’t care at all. Not for anyone else.
“Javier.”
He searched upward, claiming her mouth with his, and she could taste her own desire on his lips. She wanted more. Wanted to taste him. Wanted to torment him the way that he had tormented her.
But he was easing himself between her thighs, the blunt head of him right there, causing a tremor of fear to rush through her. But that was stolen when he captured her lips again, kissed her to the point of mindlessness before easing deeper inside of her. Before thrusting all the way home.
The stretching, burning sensation took her breath away, but she didn’t want it to stop. Because this was what she had been waiting for. This felt significant. It felt altering. This was the new, this was the different that she had known lay on the other side of this. The transformation.
And when he was fully seated inside of her, she lowered her head against his shoulder, shuddering against the pain, but embracing it all the same.
He froze for a moment, but then he began to move.
She was blinded by the intensity of it. That sense of him, so large and hard filling her like this. It made it so she couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t speak. Couldn’t do anything but surrender to this thing that was overtaking them like a storm.
She clung to his shoulders, clung to him to keep herself rooted to the earth. Rooted to the floor. To keep it so that it was still the two of them in this library. So that no other thoughts could invade. No other people. No other expectations.
It was just them.
She didn’t have to be the best. She didn’t have to be better than her brother. She didn’t have to make herself important.
