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His hands played with my breasts, rough fingers tormenting my nipples.
“Oh God, Marco.”
It briefly crossed my mind that this man didn’t even know my name. And then all thoughts stopped as his hand dove down to between my legs and yanked the gusset of my panties aside.
And then dipped down and his mouth was on me, tasting my folds, his tongue plunging into my wetness. My fingers sank into his hair and I screamed as I came hard.
I was gasping. I had not wanted to come. I wasn’t ready to come. I needed him inside me. I shoved him onto his back, undid his belt.
Laughing breathlessly, he helped me. Tugged his trousers off. And then he was bare before my gaze. And in some other world I would have blushed like a maiden at the sight of him, so hard and so ready and so huge.
But all my shyness was gone. It was like I was a different person. I climbed over his hips, ready to take him inside me.
“Oh no, little bird, I’m in charge,” he growled.
His strong forearm hooked me around my waist and put me on my hands and knees. Before I could protest, he was behind me. His fingers reached between my thighs, teased my folds, scraped my clit until all thoughts of complaining turned into raw gasps.
He worked me into a frenzy with his taunting hands, made me beg for more. And then finally I felt what I needed. The thick hardness of him pressing in, teasing me, before taking me in a single thrust.
“Marco,” I gasped. “Marco.” Over and over, as he undid everything I thought I had ever known about passion and what it was to be a woman.
I took the length of him and strained my neck to kiss him, to feel all of him as I unravelled, spooling out into oblivion and then screaming sheer bliss as I came back.
Afterwards, I was trembling, my mind completely undone.
“Stay,” he commanded, when I got out of bed to dress, thinking the night was over, and fearing he would slap a wad of notes onto the bedside table.
He took me by the hand and gently pulled me, naked, back into his arms. He kissed me. “Stay mine, carissima, forever.”
“You don’t know me,” I whispered.
“Oh, but I will, little heart. I will. And you’ll know me. You’re mine now.”
We fell asleep like that. Him cradling me against his powerful body, whispering dirty sweet nothings in my ear. Whispering drowsy promises of passion and forever. Promises I knew could never be real.
Chapter 2
BETH
Two Months Later
“Lover boy is on his way to see you,” Dolly yelled at me across the bar, her voice barely audible over the club’s music.
I frowned, sure I must have misheard, and mouthed to her, “Just a sec.”
I carefully placed a perfect tiny red apple atop the enormous square ice block dominating the cocktail I’d just prepared and handed it to my tall, dark, brooding, oh so delicious punter along with a sweet smile and a shaking hand.
The sweet smile was part of the job. The shaking hand was because I had just found out I was pregnant with his baby.
Not that he cared about our one devastating night of passion ten weeks ago. I knew exactly how long. I had counted the days.
I had snuck out in the early morning while he was still asleep, once common sense had returned. Just in time to avoid a building fire alarm that would have woken him up.
That one night had left me weak at the knees, but had apparently been less than a blip on his horizon.
I’d faced an official reprimand from my boss merely for having the temerity to dance with him. Thank goodness she didn’t know about the rest of it. The last thing I needed was for everyone to find out that I had let Marco DeAngelis make a conquest of me.
As I added the bill to Marco’s tab, his gaze on me was cynical and uncaring, like he hadn’t a clue who I was. Boy, would he choke if he saw that pregnancy test stick in my bin, with its two little pink lines that had turned my world upside down.
