Chapter Five
The kiss ignited something; something I hadn't experienced in months, maybe even years. It was passion. Pure, untamed, unabashed passion. My body wasn't simply reacting out of duty or what I perceived to be expected of me. No, in those intense, electrifying moments, my entire form was aflame with a hot, pulsing desire.
As his tongue slipped smoothly between my parted lips, bringing the faint taste of cream and chocolate laced with Tia Maria, I felt as though all the strength left my body. Leaning into him, and appreciating for the first time just how solid and muscular his chest was, I moaned joyfully.
The sound, slight as it was, must have called to him like siren, because his tongue suddenly started to move more ardently over mine, swirling around it and coaxing it into a sensual, playful dance.
Grasping the front of his shirt with both fists, I pulled him closer, even though there was no 'closer'. Our bodies were flush; my tender, craving mound was rubbing against the top of his thigh while a subtle swell in his pants began to make itself known against my lower abdomen.
Liquid heat flushed through my entire body, scorching my cheeks and sparking a sudden, desperate longing between my legs.
Gethin's hands slowly slid down, skimming over my shoulders before caressing the curves of my waist and settling at my hips. As if sensing the growing restlessness at my core, he tugged me to him, his thigh slipping seamlessly between mine.
"God," I gasped, tearing my lips from his as I began to tremble.
While his bright, vibrant eyes darkened in a way that should have indicated danger, he smiled softly. "You're beautiful, Zara. Do you realize that?"
"I...I..." I muttered, my brain refusing to cooperate with my mouth.
"I've wanted you from the moment I saw you," he added, his voice seeming to drop an octave as it took on a sexy, gravelly quality. "I've been dreaming about you; I've been imagining what it would feel like to hold you; what your skin would taste like..." His lips curving in a broader grin, he slowly dipped his head forward and gently kissed my neck.
Inhaling shakily, I breathed in the heady scent of his minty shampoo mingled with a sharp, masculine sandalwood. My hands moved of their own volition, sweeping up into his thick, dark hair and massaging the back of his head and neck.
His lips, meanwhile, were trailing a teasing path from the base of my throat up to my ear, nibbling lightly and occasionally licking until he reached my lobe and sucked it into his warm mouth.
Fisting his hair, I urged him on as I found my body began to writhe unbidden against him. "Oh, Geth," I panted. "I've been dreaming about you, too."
The impressive, and very warm, swell in his pants was prodding me, impatiently. Yet, his hands and mouth continued to caress me lazily, as though we had all the time in the world. And, in some ways, I was content to let whatever it was that was happening between us drag on and on forever. But there was a hunger that besieged me; a craving that demanded immediate gratification; an emptiness that needed to be filled. Waiting wasn't an option.
"You smell so good," he mumbled, his mouth relinquishing its claim on my ear as he pressed his cheek to mine and slowly inhaled.
The sound of his voice, deep and rumbling, was fueling the fire that raged in me. It rumbled in his chest and vibrated through me, causing me to feel as though I would melt into the floor. But much more than the physical effect of that sound, his words were stimulating the most erotically sensitive part of my entire body: my mind. To feel desirable and attractive, after months of being invisible to my own husband.
"God, Zara," he groaned, his fingers moving skillfully downward until he reached the hem of my dress. "I've gotta have you," he whispered with animalistic need.
"Yes," I whimpered, waiting anxiously for him to pull the fabric up my thighs.
However, he didn't yank my clothing. Instead, his index fingers carefully crept just the barest inch under the dress and began stroking the soft flesh of my outer thigh. My breath catching in the back of my throat as I tried to fill my lungs, I left one hand grasping his hair while the other slipped down to his shoulder and twisted the cotton of his shirt.
Gethin tipped his head back, smiling as he peered at my no doubt, sluttishly reddened cheeks and parted lips.
"Please don't stop," I panted, realizing perhaps that it was far too late to play the meek or reluctant virginal-type. Or maybe I didn't even want to. It didn't really matter what he thought of me, after all. After that night, I'd never see him again – what the hell if he remembered me as the 'easy lay' he'd picked up the in the middle of the Mediterranean...literally.
"I'm not going to," he reassured, his grin broadening while his hands continued to tease me.
Unable and unwilling to wait for his touch to move higher, both of my hands shot down to his larger ones. Pausing only momentarily, to admire the smoothness of his skin, I forced his palms higher. "Please, Gethin," I mewled. "I need you."
"I'm here," he soothed calmly. He'd allowed his hands to be moved by mine, but he didn't take over as I hoped he would. There was still no rampant pawing at my underwear. Instead, his hot palms lingered at my thighs, while the pads of his fingers brushed the lacy material that circled the tops of my legs.
As if a spring were being tightened, I felt the tension in my belly increase. The clawing of my vacant and wanting core intensified, and I groaned as my hips involuntary bucked causing my sensitive bud to brush against the heat of his bulky thigh.
"You're so sexy," he whispered, his face dropping to my shoulder and his lips beginning to offer featherlight kisses along the line of my collarbone.
Head feeling extremely heavy, I let it flop back and released a breath toward the slatted ceiling. "Jesus," I hissed, my hands leaving his and sweeping up to the waistband of his pants. I had never felt so aroused in my entire life; it was as if I would explode if I didn't find some release. The subtle glances and harmless flirting of the days before had already been a form of foreplay. The moment he started touching me, I was ready to scream with desire that was almost painful.
As I grappled gracelessly with the clasp of his belt, my left hand smoothed over the crotch of his pants, rubbing the hot, rigid rod that fought to break free of its confines. With a suddenly very dry mouth, I realized just how impressively he was endowed. The outline in his swim shorts, although eye-widening, hadn't done him justice. "Oh, God," I mumbled, as another flush of arousal pooled in my core and dampened my panties further.
"Hmm," he groaned, his hips undulating gently. "Zara," he whispered, lifting his head fractionally. "If you keep that up, I'm not going to be responsible for my actions." It was said with a tint of amusement, yet there was a serious undertone.
"Sounds promising," I hoarsely replied.
Lips quirking in a half smile, he allowed one lazy hand to curve around to my inner thigh and gradually glide upward. The entire time, he kept his eyes firmly on mine, as if daring me to break contact. When his fingers slowly pressed against the crotch of my underwear, I finally blinked.
"You're so warm," he noted softly, a twinkle in his dazzling, chocolaty eyes.
Eyelids flickering as I tried to keep them open, my hands paused: one still cupping his gargantuan bulge and the other gripping the lose end of his black, leather belt. Moving entirely of its own will, my body bucked and I trust myself more firmly against him.
Through my drenched underwear, his fingers brushed my swollen lips, moving expertly, as though he already knew my body intimately. Without any fumbling, he found the engorged center of my pleasure and rolled the pad of his middle finger over it.
"Ahh," I panted, beginning to shake violently.
"God, Zara, I wanna be inside you," he murmured. "I want to feel your warmth around me."
"Yes," I whimpered, tears of anticipation welling in my lower lids. "Yes," I repeated, clenching the fingers of my left hand and squeezing his manhood with gentle vehemence.
I strained groan emerged from deep within him, and then it was a
s if a switch had been flicked. His mouth crashed down onto mine, tongue demanding an entrance I was only too willing to offer. His hands, meanwhile, snatched out from beneath my dress and snaked around me. Adroitly, he tugged the zipper down and began peeling the fabric from me.
With quiet murmurs of pleasure, I gripped the shirt at his abdomen and began yanking it free from his pants. As soon as I had access to bare flesh, I allowed my fingers to wander luxuriously over the ridges of his muscular stomach.
My dress puddling at my waist, Gethin smoothly cupped each of my breasts in his large hands, the thumbs stroking appreciatively over the tightly erect nipples. I continued to whimper and moan against his mouth, while his tongue moved erotically within the confines of mine. And, with a wriggle, I forced the dress off my hips.
Coming up for air, he gasped as he wrenched his lips from mine. "You're perfect," he softly uttered, his hands still moving gently over my breasts as his eyes joined in the appreciation of them. However, suddenly, he was moving again, arms sliding around me before lifting me easily.
Automatically, I wrapped my legs around his waist, kicking off the flat sandals I wore. My hands clung to his shoulders while my naked torso rubbed against the soft fabric of his shirt.
With a force that knocked the air out of my lungs, he pushed me back against the glass doors.
Moving in sync, my face tilted down, while his tipped upward and once again our tongues engaged in a frenzied battle. Pinned between the door and him, I clawed at the only parts of his shirt I could reach, as if trying to rip it from him. I'm not sure if that's what I actually had in mind or if my hands were growing as restless as the rest of me.
But with another flurry of strong, masculine power, he turned. His arms keeping me captive, he took smooth purposeful strides. I was vaguely aware that the cool glass was no longer at my back and that we were moving, but my brain was far too busy on other things to focus on the whys and where’s.
It was only when I was sharply deposited on the leather couch and his weight was suddenly bearing down on me, that I realized where we'd gone. But, by that point, his erection was pushing libidinous against my inner thigh.
Gethin lifted his upper body from me, leaving my lips bereft as he made short work of his shirt. He didn't bother to unbutton it; he just whipped it hurriedly over his head. Once it was tossed aside, he grabbed the lace panties at my hips and tugged them from me in one swift and easy move.
At that point, while I lay there completely exposed to him, the reality of what I was about to do struck me. I was about to have sex with someone who was still, essentially, a stranger. I was about to sleep with someone other than my husband; I was about to be unfaithful. But we were separated, right? I wasn't doing anything wrong. Who was I kiddin'? Even if it was wrong, I knew I would still go right ahead and do it. I couldn’t call a stop to it. I didn't want to even try.
Pushing his pants and his underwear off his hips, Gethin's broad, imposing manhood sprung free. It was beautifully smooth and solid with the slightest upward curve. Like the rest of him, it was sleek, strong and exuding an overwhelming masculinity. Keeping his eyes solidly on my face, he carefully took his member in one hand and leaned back down until the soft pink glans was nestled against my entrance.
I took my bottom lip between my teeth, and held my breath as I waited for him to enter me. For a long moment, we were both still and silent, the only sound I could hear was my heart pounding in my chest and the blood rushing in my ears.
"You're beautiful," he eventually breathed, as his hips began a slow, but persistent drive forward.
I winced as his girth stretched me way beyond what I was used to with Carl, but my body was ready enough that it wasn't painful. Instead, the muscles fluttered and my sex swelled, drawing him deeper.
"Ahh," I cried out as he settled, his hard rod buried completely within my soft core.
"You feel good," Gethin whispered, his mouth hovering above me. Just a breath away, his lips brushed mine with their teasing sweetness. "You alright?" he asked quietly.
"Yes!" I screeched, my body alive with currents of electricity coursing through me. I shuddered and bucked beneath him, reveling in the sensation of completion. But it wasn't enough. I need to feel him moving within me. "Oh, Geth," I breathlessly uttered. "Please!"
Knowing what my inarticulate plea was for, he complied, gradually sliding from me only to surge back once more. I arched to meet him this time, releasing a strangled cry of pleasure as our bodies met and merged again. And then, he lost that cool, calm control.
Raw, animal lust overtook him and he began thrusting powerfully. Deeper and deeper, he plunged into me, ruthless and demanding. He seemed to know not only that my body could take it, but also that it was exactly what I wanted. Untamed passion. Unrefined, primal pleasure. The base act of wild, uncontrolled sex. In other words, the things that had been missing from my own life for so very long.
Again and again, our bodies slapped roughly together. My breathy cries, mingling with his red-blooded groans, rose up along with the smell of sweat and a lascivious musk. My fingers moved over his smooth, clammy back, the fingernails raking over his shoulders and spurring him on.
With each drive, he edged me a little closer, until I was on the very precipice of mind-numbing ecstasy. Sucking in a deep breath, I held it as the world narrowed and every muscle in my body tensed. And then, suddenly, lightning bolts crackled in my brain; spots danced in front of my darkened lids and my entire form convulsed like a fish that had been hauled onto the deck of a ship.
In the midst of my rapture, I heard the sound of Gethin's voice, which seemed very far away. "Zara," he groaned, the muscles in his shoulders tensing as he gave into his own release.
"Ah," I sobbed, my eyes beginning to lazily open as I felt his warmth pulse into me in strong, intense bursts.
"Oh, Zara," he huffed, pulling in deep breaths that caused his chest to writhe deliciously against mine. "Ugh, that was..." he mumbled. “That was incredible.”
"Hmm," I hummed in agreement, a contented smile etched on my face.
"I don't want you to leave tomorrow," he abruptly announced, his features stiffened and serious as he lifted his head and stared intently down at me.
Still unable to wipe the dopey smirk from my lips, I gazed obliviously into eyes that I would quite happily have drowned in. "What?" I chuckled.
"I don't want you to leave," he repeated, his strong jaw unrelentingly tense. "Stay with me."
I wasn't sure whether it was a request or a demand; there had been an absolutism to his words, but a slightly plaintive edge to the voice that had spoken them. And while I tried to wrap my orgasm-muddled head around that, I also grappled with the broader implications of what he was suggesting. "You..." I mumbled, the corners of my smirking mouth faltering only slightly. "You want me to stay on the yacht with you?"
"Yes," he replied firmly.
"Well, that's...that's crazy," I sighed, giggling.
"No it's not," he insisted solemnly. "I don't want you to go, Zara." Lifting his hand to my face, he brushed a strand of hair from my cheek. "Stay here with me," he whispered, this time with obvious entreaty in both his tone and his ardent eyes.
"Well..." I mumbled. "I don't suppose I'm really in a position to say 'no'," I chuckled.
His features instantly brightening, he slowly brought his face back to mine. "You won't regret it," he promised softly, before our lips merged and words became entirely unnecessary.
To be continued....
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Loving The White Billionaire
by
Monica Brooks
Copyright © 2014 by Monica Brooks
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, business establishments,
events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Loving The White Billionaire
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