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“Oh, my God,” Natalie whispered as he filled her, and everything in her shuddered again and again, nudging her so close to the edge once more that she caught her breath in anticipation.
“‘Your Highness’ will do,” Rodolfo told her, a thread of amusement beneath the stark need in his voice.
And then he began to move.
It was a slick, devastating magic. Rodolfo built the flames in her into a wildfire, then fanned the blaze ever higher. He dropped his mouth to hers, then shifted to pull a nipple into the heat of his mouth.
Natalie wrapped herself around him, and gave herself over to each glorious thrust. She dug her fingers into his back, she let her head fall back and then she let herself go. As if the woman she’d been when she’d walked into this room, or into this life, no longer existed.
There was only Rodolfo. There was only this.
Perfect,she thought, again and again, so it became a chant inside her head.This is perfect.
She might even have chanted it aloud.
He dropped down closer, wrapping his arms around her as his rhythm went wilder and more erratic. He tucked his face in her neck and kept his mouth there as he pounded into her, over and over, until he hurled her straight back off that cliff.
And he followed her only moments later, releasing himself into her with a roar that echoed through the room and deep inside of Natalie, too, tearing her apart in a completely different way as reality slammed back into her, harsh and cruel.
Because she’d never felt closer to a man in all her life, and Rodolfo had called out to her as if he felt the same. She was as certain as she’d ever been of anything that he felt exactly the same as she did.
But, of course, he thought she was someone else.
And he’d used the wrong name.
