Sicilian's Bride for a Price

by Tara Pammi

  “Is...Francesca one of those five?”

  The shutters that fell down in his eyes were instant. He let her go and Ali missed his warmth like a limb. “Let it go.”

  “How would you feel if Jai was in the flat, two doors down?”

  “I’d throw him out by the scruff of his collar.”

  “Even though I repeatedly told you he was out of my life?”

  He rubbed his face again. “This will never work if we don’t trust each other.”

  “I do trust you. It’s just that...you know everything about me. All my weaknesses. I know nothing about you.”

  “You haven’t let me see your work.”

  “So earn that right, Dante.”

  “Francesca’s parents broke off our association the minute the news of my father’s crime came out. We’d been together for most of our lives. When I asked her about her parents’ decision, she said she was abiding by it. She didn’t want to marry a man whose father’s crime would always cling to him. Who owed millions to people, who could never leave that infamy behind.”

  “She broke your heart.”

  He looked up and shook his head. “No. Funnily enough, by that time, I’d been dealt much worse.”

  Maybe Francesca hadn’t broken his heart but she’d made him close himself off. Ali went to him, hating the distance he put between them. “I’m glad then that she has such a fickle heart. Because now you’re mine.

  “One woman’s discard is another woman’s hero.”

  A white smile flashed in his dark face, lust turning his eyes impossibly darker. “I’m no hero, Ali. Heroes don’t exist, cara mia. Only men with weaknesses and men without.”

  She didn’t like the gravity of his tone. The shadow of his father’s dark past was in his eyes. Twining her arms around his neck, she rubbed herself against him shamelessly. His erection was a brand against her belly. “Fine, you’re no hero. You’re the perfect man with the perfect hard-on and I can’t wait—”

  He tucked a swath of hair behind her ear. “I need to learn what turns you on. I need to make you scream. I need to lick every inch of you. Then, if you’re still willing, then I will be inside you, cara mia.”

  Heat scoured her cheeks and Ali tugged her gaze down to his neck. “Oh, God, you’re going to be all methodical and in control, aren’t you?”

  His laughter surrounded her even as his words wound anticipation tighter and tighter inside her. She snuck her fingers into his hair, pushing away the thick lock that fell onto his forehead. He looked down at her and smiled and in that smile, Ali found the entire world. The thing that she’d been searching for through the years and continents—a place to belong. A place to call her own.

  This man was worth staying still for. Worth fighting for.

  It felt as if she’d been waiting her whole life for this moment. With this man. Every choice she’d made had led her here. To tonight.

  To Dante.

  * * *

  Dante moved away from Ali. Every muscle in him curled tight with a hunger he couldn’t deny anymore.

  It felt right. All the way to his bones.

  Her soft voice, full of vulnerability tugged at him. Reaching for the wall behind him, he turned on the overhead ceiling lights and the room was instantly ablaze. And in the middle of the room, leaning against his king bed, stood Alisha.

  The cashmere dress she wore hugged every swell and dip of her body, the peach tone setting off her dusky skin. The dress ended inches above her knees, while her legs were clad in knee-high brown boots, leaving miles of toned thighs on display. Her breasts jutted up high and firm and he knew, just knew, that she wasn’t wearing a bra.

  After years of self-discipline and having sex for the simple release it provided, tonight he wanted to gorge on her.

  Now that she was here, he wanted to take his time. He wanted her limp and damp and blown apart. He wanted to drown her in so much pleasure that she’d forget any other man’s name. He never wanted her to feel as if she’d made a compromise with him. She would never want for anything as his wife. Not for riches, not for security and not for pleasure.

  He ran a hand over his jaw, feeling the scratch of his stubble. “Stay there while I shave. I won’t be long.”

  “No, don’t.” The tip of her tongue swept over her lush lower lip and he felt that hesitant stroke lower on his body. The very thought of her hands on his shaft, that tongue wrapped around his hardness sent him to the very edge he’d talked himself away from just now.

  “No?” he said, raising a brow. Silky, hoarse, his voice sounded so unlike him. “Tell me why not.”

  “I...I like your stubble.”

  He had no idea how he managed to stay still, all the way across the room. How he managed to hang on to the last thread of his control when all he wanted was to splay her legs wide and pound into her. “Why?”

  She tucked her hand into the cowl-neck of her sweater dress, as if she found her very skin restless. As if she couldn’t wait to shed it all. “I want to feel it against my skin.”

  Desire slammed into him anew, a fever in his blood. “Where, Ali?”

  She lifted her chin, his equal every step of the way. “Here.” She rubbed her cheek. “Here.” Her pink-tipped fingers rubbed the nipple poking against the dress. “Here.” Her palm swooped down over her belly. “And here.” Now her palm was between her thighs.

  His mouth dried out. “Pull your hair down.”

  Hands raised into that mass, she pulled at the clip and it all came tumbling down in glorious, silky brown waves that framed her lovely face. And then she shook her head in that classic feminine gesture that drew his balls tight. He wanted to feel that hair on his belly and lower, he was going to fist his hands in that heavy mass and hold her still for him while he thrust into her wet heat.

  Cristo, there were a thousand things he wanted to do to her. Inside her. With her. An eternity wouldn’t be enough for all of it. “You’ll feel it, tesoro, against your skin.” He let his gaze rest on the jut of her breasts, her flat belly, to her thighs. “Everywhere.”

  Brown eyes widened into deep pools, and a soft mewl fell from her mouth. “Any other requests from my sexy wife?”

  “Take your shirt off,” she commanded him, in a tone that thrummed over his skin.

  He shrugged it off his shoulders. It fluttered to the floor in a whisper. Her gaze moved over him hungrily, from his throat to his shoulders to his nipples, to the light sprinkling of hair on his chest, and then to the line of it that disappeared into his jeans.

  And then strayed over the bulge in his pants.

  Again, her tongue came out and licked her lower lip. His shaft lengthened, almost painfully hard now.

  “Take that dress off,” he said, struggling and failing to remove the rough need in his words. “Leave your boots on.”

  Her gaze gleamed. His breath hung on a jagged edge when she picked up the hem and pulled it over her head. Lust slammed into him like the side of a mountain. A growl escaped his throat—half pain, half pleasure at the breathtaking sensuality of her body.

  She wasn’t wearing a bra. Her breasts were small and high and round, the brown nipples puckered into tight knots. His mouth watered. Miles of smooth brown skin shimmered flawlessly under the bright lights. Silky hair fluttered over one side of her shoulder, beckoning his touch.

  Her chest curved sharply into a narrow waist, small enough for him to wrap his hands around and flared into wide hips, followed by long, shapely thighs and legs, legs he wanted wrapped around him while he plunged into her.

  Dios mio, she was a red-blooded male’s wet dream. And she was his.

  Only his, forever. This night and all the nights to come.

  “Now the panties.” His command rolled out of a dry mouth.

  He thought she would refuse him, on principle. She’d always hated that he ordered her ar
ound, that he knew what was best for her.

  “No arguments?” he said, goading her, wanting her to fight him. Needing something to fracture that utter surrender in her eyes. In her body.

  “I’ve no problem following your commands when I know you have my best interests at heart.”

  A shudder went through him at the arrogant confidence in her voice, the husky timbre of it. Chin tilted up defiantly, gaze burning bright, she tucked her fingers into the thin seam of her panties and rolled them down.

  She had to lean back against the bed to pull them over her boots and her hair fell forward like a silky curtain, covering her breasts from his view.

  Skin clammy with need, he took her in, as she threw the panties at him, a wicked smile curving her mouth. The fabric fell to the ground as he moistened his lips.

  His gaze went from her flat belly to the V of her pelvis, down to the black curls hiding her sex from him. She was gloriously sexy.

  He shook with the need to just take her right there, standing like that, her eyes wide and swimming in desire. But not tonight. He would do that another night. He would take her without preamble, he would reach for her one night, kiss her awake slowly and she would welcome him and he would be inside her while they were laughing with each other, in the kitchen, in the living room, in the shower.

  But tonight, he intended to take it slow if it killed him. He sat down on the leather recliner. “Come here to me,” he growled out, patting his lap.

  And she did, her hips swinging with each step, her breasts swaying up and down, her mouth curved in a teasing light. She came over to him with such naked want in her eyes that his erection pushed against his trousers. When she stilled in front of him, her knees hitting the recliner, he leaned forward. His hands filled with her buttocks, he pressed her forward into his face. The scent of her arousal seeped into him like a drug. He shook from the force of his desire. He licked around her navel, breathing her in.

  He left his trousers zipped, for he needed every ounce of control he had to bring her to climax first. For the first time in his life, Dante had nothing left because Ali had undone him.

  Simply by giving him everything she had with such trust. Such open affection. Such...

  It was a gift, he knew, and he promised himself he’d cherish it even if he couldn’t return it in full measure.

  * * *

  “Climb into my lap. And straddle me.”

  Ali barely heard, much less understood Dante’s words beneath the rushing in her ears. Knees shaking like Jell-O, she climbed up onto the recliner, while his hands traveled over every inch of her bare skin.

  Cupping her buttocks, smoothing over her hips, tracing her rib cage, palming her breasts, then sweeping between her inner thighs without really touching her where she needed to be touched. Next they were at her back, pushing her down and forward. She sank into his lap and the feel of his hard shaft against her sex was like electricity in her veins.

  Instantly, mindlessly, she moved over him and his growl ripped through the air. Rough hands gripped her hips, staying her. “Don’t move, not yet. I want to come inside you.”

  “Yes. Please,” she whispered on a dry mouth.

  He tongued her nipple. A wet lash. Her back arched into the hot caress. Murmuring in Italian, he repeated the soft flicks of his tongue over and over again, until she was panting. Sobbing. Shaking. She dug her fingers into his thick hair and held his head to her breast, demanding more. Needing more. His teeth nipped before he closed his lips over the peak. “Every night after that time, I dreamed of this.” He rolled her nipple in his mouth, pressed his tongue against it again and again before he sucked on it.

  Fire burst through her belly.

  Sensations poured over her like warm honey, beating on her, sending arrows of shooting pleasure down to her lower belly. And just when she was at the edge of mindless ecstasy, when she could taste the pleasure on her tongue like bottled lightning, he stopped.

  Made her come down from the edge.

  He repeated the torment again and again, until her skin was clammy with sweat. Her thigh muscles were trembling. And she was shaking with need. She looked down into his dark eyes. “You want me to beg, don’t you? This is payback for all the trouble I caused you all these years?”

  Rough hands stroked her bare back, down the line of her spine to her buttocks, up and down soothing her. He pressed a fierce kiss to her mouth, tongue and teeth whipping her into a frenzy again. His hand shook as he pushed back damp hair from her forehead, desire and something else in his eyes. “I like seeing you like that. Desperate for me. My name on your lips like a chant. Your eyes hazy and clouded. Your body so achingly gorgeous and mine to play with. It’s like a drug, cara mia. Building you up, seeing you crave me like that... You give of yourself so boldly, so completely, so...generously. I promised myself I would have you limp and screaming my name for hours.” Huskiness filled his words.

  She rocked into him, craving his hardness at the apex of her thighs, delirious with need. Mindless for his possession. “Inside me, Dante, now, please.”

  He lifted her onto her knees. The rasp of his zipper, the sliding whisper of his jeans were havoc on her skin. His erection released up toward his belly, thick and long with veins she wanted to trace with her tongue. She licked her dry lips, and he growled. “Not tonight, cara mia.”

  Ali shook with violent need when he took himself in hand. “Lower yourself, slowly.”

  She lowered her hips and he rubbed the length of him against her wet folds. Pleasure knotted in her pelvis and she jerked at the overwhelming sensation.

  His dark gaze stayed where he could see their bodies straining to join. “Do it again,” he commanded and she did.

  Once more, again and again, she pressed the plump head against her clit. And the next time she did it, he thrust his hips and he was inside her.

  Ali gasped at how embedded he was inside her like this, stretching her to the hilt.

  Sweat beaded on his forehead, the thick corded muscles of his neck standing out in stark relief. “Maledizione, you’re so tight.”

  “It’s been a long time. And now I know why I didn’t even miss it. I was waiting for you, Dante.”

  A stillness came over him. “Ali, I don’t deserve—”

  “Shh...” she whispered and took his mouth in a soft kiss.

  Stiff at first, slowly he melted into it as she tangled with his tongue just the way he liked. She ran her hands all over his warm, damp skin, loving the tight clench of his shoulders, the taut skin stretched over his chest. “You know, Jai was right. I didn’t realize it for so long.”

  He scowled and cursed.

  She wrapped her arms around him, loving the warmth and hardness of him surrounding her. “I’ve always had a thing for you. I’ve always weighed every man I meet against you. I don’t even know when...”

  His hands in her hair jerked her head back roughly. His nostrils flared and he rotated and thrust his hips at the same time. His thumb found her clit and pressed. On and on he worked her, with his shaft inside her, his fingers on her clit, as if he meant to make her mindless. And without warning, Ali came, liquid lightning splintering through her belly and lower.

  His dark gaze devouring her, he kept thrusting, and the waves came and came, drowning her, dragging her.

  She fell onto him, moaning, chasing the high still. “When what, Alisha?” he demanded, a craven starkness in his voice. “When what?”

  “I don’t know when it happened. Or maybe it was already there and it’s only that I just see it now.”

  He stood up with their bodies still joined, his hands on her buttocks and he brought them to his bed. Pleasure began fluttering through her pelvis again when he kept her at the edge of the bed and started moving inside her.

  There was an angry glint in his eyes, color burning beneath those cheekbones. The tenor of his thrusts
quickened, his fingers painfully digging into her hips. She loved it, she loved that he was selfishly chasing his climax, that he wasn’t clad in that cloak of control.

  Ali pulled herself up on her elbows and met his mouth. “For years, it was easy to hide behind my hate.” She dug her teeth into his lower lip and pulled. And in reward, his hips flexed and rotated.

  Feral want painted his features with a harshness. His shoulders stood out in stark relief, a tremor in his skin when she claimed every part of him.

  His nostrils flared as he dragged her even closer, pushing her thighs indecently wide with his shoulders.

  He was glorious and she was the only one who could give him what he needed. She locked her legs at his buttocks and gave herself over to his rhythm.

  Sweat beaded on his throat and then he pistoned once, twice, thrice, with a jerking motion. A growl fell from his mouth as he came—an uncontrolled, raw sound. She licked the sweat at his neck and bit his shoulder hard. “I love the sound you make when you come undone. I love how you know me so well. I love you, Dante. I’ll always love you.”

  Smiling, Ali fell back against the sheets, her pelvis sore from the pounding, from the way he’d used her, her thighs trembling and aching. Her heart was so overflowingly full. He’d lost control there at the end because of what she’d said. And she reveled in it even as he remained silent. Even if every second of that silence pierced her.

  She closed her eyes and turned her head away.

  But not before she saw the shock in his eyes. And the stillness that came over him. And the way his entire body shuddered, his chin jerking as if she’d somehow dealt him a lethal blow.

  For once, she didn’t care what he was going through.

  She was in love with him and there was a certain freedom in admitting that. In saying that out loud. In flinging her heart wide open and embracing what she felt.

  In lying, satiated, next to the man she loved.

  CHAPTER TEN

  PINK DAWN WAS sweeping its fingers through the sky outside his bedroom, the world, the city pulsing into life as Dante came awake. For the first time in his life, he felt no rush to meet it. No urgent meeting, no PR emergency could wrench him away from the warm bed, the haven of his room, from Ali.