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“Oh, God,” she moaned, as understanding slammed into her with all the force of a train.
“There you go,” he murmured.
Approvingly.
And she could hear him well enough, but worse—or better—his mouth wasright there. Right there at her core, where she felt herself clenching, melting, shuddering—
Then Cristiano took her in his mouth from behind, like an overripe peach.
And ate her like dessert.
And this time, when she exploded, she screamed.
Sometime later, he rolled her over. Julienne lay there, splayed wide, because she couldn’t seem to get her limbs to work. Nor could she manage to care about that strange paralysis the way she knew she should.
All the while her heart clattered so hard against her ribs that she was worried they might crack. Or she would.
She had the vague sense that he was moving, but then he was touching her again. Stripping her, she worked out after a moment, with a ruthless efficiency that made her shiver all over again.
“Cristiano...” she murmured.
“Good girl,” he replied.
She had no idea why that made her want to sob. Though she couldn’t have said, if her life depended upon it, what sort of sob that might have been. Another explosion of sensation. Or a deep well of something that had ached inside her for much too long now, too fiercely to be sadness.
All of the above,she said to herself.
At least, she thought it was to herself. It was impossible to tell.
And then he was crawling over her, tasting her as he went.
No part of her was safe from him, and she felt blazingly hot. Gloriously alight and alive. She tasted him too, so male and hard. Until she was sure they both glowed in the dark with the force of this endless temptation, wild and needy.
She wanted it to go on and on forever.
And then she felt him, hard and huge against her hip.
She realized she must have made a noise when he laughed again, softly.
“You’re going to take all of me, Julienne,” he told her, with that quiet certainty that made her doubt—not for the first time—that she was really going to survive this. Not in one piece, anyway. Not intact. But she’d known that before she’d come here, hadn’t she? Not the particulars ofhow,exactly, he would ruin her. Only that he would. “Do you understand?”
All Julienne could do was nod. She didn’t know if she was apprehensive, or desperate—but this time, in a whole new way. She wanted to prove to him that she could do exactly that. That she could do whatever he wanted, whatever he needed.
He smiled again, and it was even more devastating than before.
And she was such a fool. Had she really worried that the sight of his smile might make her swoon?
If only.
The sad truth of her situation was like another wallop, and now it was connected to that molten fire between her legs, the pounding of her heart, and the dark, demanding man propped up over her.
She had fallen hopelessly in love with this man when she was sixteen years old. She had loved him with all the mad fervency of a teenage girl, because she’d been one. And more, with the unwavering passion a girl could only have for the hero who had saved her.
It had never wavered. Over the years, it had grown stronger. Deeper.
Until even her own sister despaired of her.
Tonight was meant to be the cure. Because no man could possibly live up to the fantasies in her head. Julienne knew that. She’d been sure of it.
