AllFreeNovel
Share Us
It made her feel special and she hadn’t realised quite how much she’d wanted to be special to someone. Special and not a burden the way she was with Annabel.
But Annabel doesn’t get to fly to Greece or be wanted by a beautiful billionaire...
Glory pushed the thought away. No, Annabel was getting her dream, so why couldn’t Glory have this for herself? She’d intended to do so back in LA that night in Castor’s mansion after all. And besides, it was only a night, nothing more.
Castor’s fingers tightened, his thumbs finding her nipples, circling them gently before giving each a little pinch, sending shock waves of pleasure through her, scattering all her doubts.
No one had ever made her feel the way he did and even if this would all end in heartache for her, she wasn’t going to regret this. How could she? If she wanted to lose her virginity to someone, she couldn’t have asked for a better man to lose it to.
His mouth was warm and seductive on her neck, his body against her back a wall of heat, hard muscle and power. She liked how protected she felt standing right here in his arms, how insulated against anything that would hurt her. It made her aware of how lonely her life had been up till now and how she hadn’t known how much she’d wanted someone to hold her until he’d taken her in his arms.
There had only ever been her sister and all the sacrifices Annabel had had to make for her. Everything had a price, and that included love.
But not this. This was free. There was no guilt attached. It was just pleasure and so she’d take it.
Glory arched back against him, wanting more, wanting his hands on her, wanting to lose herself in his touch and in the thrill of being desired by someone like him.
He stroked her breasts gently once more before his hands slid down to her hips and he was easing down the panties she wore, undressing her completely.
She felt no embarrassment, no need to cover herself, not when it was so obvious how much he wanted her, and so when he turned her in his arms to look at her, she met his gaze without shame.
He didn’t speak, but that look in his eyes told her everything she needed to know, and when he lifted her in his arms and carried her to the couch, she could see the need in him.
‘I want you, Castor,’ she heard herself say as he laid her down. ‘I want you so much.’ She reached up to touch his cheek, loving the feel of his hot skin and the prickle of his whiskers.
He turned his head, kissing her fingertips before straightening, his hands going to the buttons of his shirt and beginning to undo it.
Glory pushed herself up, suddenly dry-mouthed and desperate to touch him, but too shy to ask.
He seemed to know what she wanted though, because he paused, his golden gaze catching hers. ‘Would you like to do the honours?’ he asked softly, his hands dropping away from the buttons.
She nodded jerkily, coming off the couch to stand before him, reaching for the buttons of his shirt and fumbling a little with them. But he helped her and slowly he was revealed, the black cotton parting to reveal golden skin and hard, carved muscle.
Her hands shook as she touched him reverently, because he was a work of art and works of art should be worshipped.
‘Ah,mikri alepou...’ His voice had got deep, the rough velvet becoming gravel as she ran her fingertips over his chest, tracing the lines of his pectorals before moving downward to the hard corrugations of his abs. ‘You will be the death of me.’
But he didn’t stop her as she pushed his shirt from his broad shoulders or when she rose on her toes and pressed her mouth to his throat, tasting salt and musk and the essential flavour that was all him. It was only when her hands went to the buttons on his trousers and she undid them, sliding her fingers inside and finding the smooth hot skin of the hardest part of him, that he gave a rough curse in Greek and then moved suddenly.
And then she was on her back once more on the couch, pressed against the seat cushions by his naked body, surrounded by the scent of warm spice, the oiled silk of his skin moving against hers.
He was between her thighs, leaning over her, his hands on either side of her head, his hot gaze burning down into hers. ‘You deserve better than this,’ he said. ‘You deserve time, but I’ll make it up to you, I promise.’
She didn’t know what he was talking about, mainly because she didn’t want time. What she wanted was more of this pleasure, more of his touch, more his kisses, just...more.
And he gave it to her, his hand sliding beneath her hips and lifting her, then a deep, hard thrust that had her crying out. There was pain, but it wasn’t bad, a fleeting hurt and then a feeling of fullness, of completeness.
He stilled deep inside her, looking down into her eyes, murmuring something soft in Greek that she didn’t understand.
But she thought she knew, so she took a breath, adjusted herself to the feel of him inside her, to the rightness of it, then reached for him, bringing his mouth down to hers.
The kiss was deep and intense, a feverish, hungry kiss, turning even hungrier as he began to move, setting a rhythm that had her trembling and shuddering with pleasure.
She hadn’t known it was possible to feel this way, to be so consumed by another person that she thought she might die if he didn’t shift his hips in just that way, giving her the most exquisite source of friction that made her gasp in delight. If he didn’t bite her bottom lip, or trail kisses down her throat, or slide so deep inside her he made pleasure echo through her entire being.
His arms came around her, his mouth becoming more demanding, the rhythm faster, harder, the pleasure pulling tight until it felt like she was going to snap like a rubber band stretched too far.
She writhed in his arms, gasping, and then his hand was between her thighs, stroking the most sensitive part of her, and everything abruptly came apart and she called his name, lost beneath the flood of an almost unbearable ecstasy. She was only dimly aware of his sudden, sharp movement and then the rough sound of his groan as he chased his own climax, before his body came down on hers.
