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‘Emily,’ he said gently, trying to stop it before they lost themselves completely.
Emily shook her head. She knew that he was trying to stop this, but she didn’t want him to. They were skating so close to the edge of the deal they’d made, and she knew it was madness to do so, but she was unsettled by the tension that had worked its way from Javier into her. Emily was as angry at him as he seemed angry at her, both too fearful of speaking a truth that would or could change everything.
So, instead, she was choosing this. Choosing to burn away her frustration in the most incendiary of ways. Choosing him and knowing that while it was cowardly it was also exactly what she needed. She kissed her name from his lips, teasing open his mouth and taking full advantage when he succumbed. The groan building in the back of his throat vibrated through her body until it flared deep within her, beckoning her thighs to open just that bit more, to press against him just that bit more, to demand from himjust that bit more.
His head fell back in a surrender she knew better than to trust. But the cords of his exposed neck were too irresistible to her. She kissed and gloried in the taste of him, salt, spice and sweet, nipping at the muscles and shuddering at the little sharp points of stubble that had grown during the day—delighting in the scratch of it against her soft skin.
His fingers flexed around her biceps, neither pulling nor pushing, but the restraint was enough, the boundary—like the confines of their deal—something she wanted to push against, to test the limit of, to know his, to understand her own.
She pushed forward, letting him keep the steel bands of his hands at her arms, returning her lips to his, laving the lush fullness of his mouth with her tongue, tormenting him with little kisses and teasing their arousal into something fierce.
Her hand went to his shoulder, fisting his shirt and grazing the muscles and skin beneath with her nails. In response his hand fisted the flesh of her backside, and a gasp of pure pleasure poured from her mouth to his. His inhalation was swift and deep, as if he were desperate to consume even her very breath, as if it were the most of her that he’d allow himself.
The thought had her almost cry out in protest, in denial. ‘I want this,’ she whispered desperately against his lips. ‘I asked you before and that time I ran away,’ she confessed, breathless and eyes closed. ‘I’m asking again, and I beg you, please. Please don’t stop this. Not this time. Not now.’
She knew it was selfish. She knew what she was asking, but the need for him was a madness in her blood. Gingerly she prised open her eyes to find him looking at her solemnly. It was a moment of stillness, the eye of the storm—his gaze searching for answers she didn’t know how to give—the power of his focus, she feared, would penetrate to her soul.
‘This is what you want?’ he asked, his hand rising to sweep back a lock of hair that had fallen forward between them.
She folded her top lip beneath her teeth and bit down, nodding.So much.She wanted it so damn much she dared not speak it.
‘Me rindo,’he whispered.I surrender. And he was looking at her as if there was no one else in the world.
His words lifted the leash holding Emily back and she claimed his mouth with such possession they would each remember that exact moment for the rest of their lives. Hands fisted in satin and cotton, tongues teased and tasted, lips parted and pressed, sighs and growls merged as they gave and took more of each other than ever before.
Javier held her in his arms as he rose, his display of strength enthralling, and while she might seem at his mercy, she knew he was utterly at hers. He guided her down onto the cloth-covered table, gently laying her across the surface like a dying man’s last meal. Emily lifted her knees, rested her feet flat onto the table and watched her husband devour her with his eyes.
‘Tu eres mi reina,’he vowed, his determined words fanning the flames between them.
She translated the Spanish in her mind and heart. She was his queen.
His hands pressed against the satin of her dress at her calves, sweeping easily upwards as he reached her knees and parted her thighs. Her sex pulsed with desperate longing, and nothing could appease it but him. He made space for himself between her legs, bringing the hem of her dress further and further upwards, sweeping circles with his fingers through the material in a silken caress, the whisper-soft touch delicately arousing with devastating effect.
He tormented her with his gaze, showing her in his eyes exactly what he wanted to do to her, warning her, building her anticipation, his silence more effective than any words ever could have been, in there a question—a warning. A line about to be crossed and, heaven help her, she consented with a desperate nod.
Bending, he pressed a kiss to her knee, smoothing the satin aside so that lips touched flesh, tongue tasted skin, fingers gripped and held. Her eyes drifted closed and she lost herself to Javier and the sensations he was raining down on her. His kisses drew closer and closer to the juncture of her thighs, the sensual anticipation sharp and tangy in her throat and fluttering in her chest. The sound of her breath panting from her lips, the gentle growl of delight from Javier as he pressed her thighs wider, only for her knees to fall aside and her hips to lift ever so slightly... It should have been embarrassing, it should have made her feel exposed and self-conscious but, in reality, it made her feel glorious.Sensual. An ownership over her own desires she had never let herself feel before.
Incomprehensible words fell from Javier’s lips, but she didn’t need to translate them. She felt it too. There was something about this moment that surpassed any other they’d shared before. As if the truth, the deal...these past few days had stripped away layers to expose a raw honesty that they had been too young to face all those years ago.
And then he kissed her through the satin strip of her panties, his hot wet tongue finding hot wet heat and all thought burned in a pyre of passion.
For a man who was not particularly religious, Javier had never before called to God so many times in such a short space of time. But, honestly, this moment was being burned into his soul and he felt every second of it. His tongue laved her through her underwear as her thighs quivered against the table, his palm on her abdomen, not just holding her in place but savouring every twist and turn of her body, relishing the way that pleasure rippled through his wife with pride and delight.
But it wasn’t enough. Sweeping the material aside, Javier pressed an open mouth kiss to the flesh beneath the blonde cross-hatch of curls. Emily nearly came off the table and he couldn’t help but smile—she had always been passionate and expressive but there was something different tonight. Unable to help himself, he teased her clitoris with his tongue, pressing against it firm and hard, relishing the answering pressure Emily provided, before little licks had her writhing beneath him.
Her arousal was like a fist around his erection—an exquisite torment. One that would not see release this night. Instead, he focused the entirety of his considerable attention on bringing her to orgasm. His thumb pressed gently at her entrance was the only warning he gave before he thrust his fingers into her at the same time as he drew his tongue against her clitoris.
Emily came up off the table with a cry. His name on her lips made him ache, but the one thing he would not do that night was break their deal. He had never wanted anything or anyone as badly as he did his wife, but he knew what was at stake and he couldn’t, wouldn’t, risk it.
Instead, he filled her with as much passion as he could, finding that place deep within her that brought Emily more pleasure than she could contain. He teased her, pressing her towards the brink of orgasm again and again until her pleas and sobs were indelibly imprinted on his tongue. And just as she promised that she couldn’t take any more, he thrust his fingers deep and hard at the same moment as he nipped at her clitoris and Emily came apart on his tongue, pulsing around his fingers and sinking into a bliss he had been honoured to give her.
Wrecked. He had wrecked them both. Shaking off his stolen languor, he gathered her into his arms and, ignoring the pull at his damaged ribs and surrounding muscles, he took her to their bed, careful of Diabla weaving around his feet. Emily attempted a sleepy protest but he removed the simple satin dress and pulled the cover over her, not even telling Diabla off when she jumped onto the bed and made a little nest in the space between Emily’s knees and elbows. He didn’t know how long he stayed there, just watching his wife like that, but he knew that it was too long.
Emily woke, her body still rippling with gentle pleasure despite being thoroughly satiated. She smiled at the warm bundle that was Diabla, curled up in the small curve of her body. But behind her was nothing but the coolness of the night.
She turned, glancing at the clock to find that it was three in the morning, and a sense of wrongness filled her. It tasted a little like the tension she had felt from Javier since the Alhambra. Emily knew that if she left it, if she pretended it wasn’t there, Javier would never explain it, stubborn man that he was. But then, perhaps she was the coward who let him stay like that, she thought as a tendril of sadness unwound from her heart.
Gently—so that she didn’t disturb Diabla—she peeled back the covers, found her robe and made her way back downstairs. The house, shrouded in darkness and lit only by moonbeams, took on a different feel. Here in the living room she could see how jarring the changes she had made to their home were. She’d expected to find Javier asleep on a chair but, when she didn’t, unease crept across her skin in goosebumps. If it hadn’t been for the moon glow on his white shirt, Emily would have missed him sitting out on the patio.
