by Tara Pammi
It was a vibrator.
A sound—a cross between a gasp and a moan—escaped her. Heat pumped to her cheeks. Excitement dried her mouth. She stared at the doorway, a wild idea taking root in her.
She had had enough of his stupid rewards system. She was going to go for the jackpot.
She picked up the vibrator and settled on to a small settee facing away from the entrance to the main cabin. The smooth silicone was soft and yet hard in her hand. Sucking in a quick breath, she clicked the small button on the side.
A soft whir filled the cabin.
She didn’t know what drove her to it. Maybe it was the horny part of her that she had no control over. Maybe it was the self-loathing running through her veins because she was still a coward who, instead of walking up to Diego and kissing him, as every cell in her wanted to, only dared to sit in here and play sexual peekaboo with him.
She didn’t care.
She leaned against the wall, tugged her robe open and pushed it back over her shoulders.
Her PJs were nothing to write a Victoria’s Secret catalog about, but at least the spaghetti strap top and the shorts were satin, in a cute shade of peach with little bows. They were not dull or boring, as Diego had said.
Her shorts exposed her legs which, thanks to Carla, she had gotten waxed for the party. Her toenails, painted the same sexy pink as the vibrator, gleamed against the cream leather couch.
The grooved velvet handle offered a sturdy grip as she held the vibrating head of it against her smooth calf. It tickled her skin and a giggle escaped her.
Laughing, she dragged the vibrating head upward from her calf. The thump-thump of her heart as she heard movement in the main cabin gobbled up the calming whir of the device.
She stalled as she reached her knee and pulled it back down. Up and down she moved it, covering a little more ground on the way up every time.
A tingle started sweeping up the base of her neck, across her face, spreading all over her skin. A shocking wetness dampened her panties. Even her palm felt slippery on the handle.
Her mouth dried up.
Because her clammy palm had nothing to do with what the device in her hand was doing to her body and everything to do with the thundering presence of the man looming at the entrance to the cabin, looking down at her from behind.
She could feel his gaze on her, daring her to raise her head and meet his gaze.
She could feel his hardened breathing in the way oxygen was swiftly depleted around her.
She could feel his arousal in the way her body reacted to his presence, in the way it was feeding off the desire he was emanating, even if she couldn’t hear it or see it.
Her heart hammered. Her legs shook. Every muscle in her body trembled with an almost feverish chill. It was a good thing she had sat on the couch or she would have melted into a puddle of longing at his feet.
Bending her head, she moved the vibrating tip up past her knee this time. Her already sensitized skin vibrated with a thrumming awareness.
She reached the halfway point up her thigh.
He didn’t interrupt her.
She let her boneless right leg collapse to the side, opening up her inner thigh to her hand. Her breathing quickened, the scent of arousal filling the scant air in the cabin.
He didn’t make a sound.
The vibrating head reached the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. Heat crept along every inch of her skin as she moved the head a little more. Heat pooled at her sex.
He didn’t move in his stance.
Her boldness had a shelf life of a few minutes at best, and it was fast running out. Sitting there, open in front of him, even with her shorts covering her aching flesh, she felt the most erotic thrill begin in her lower belly.
Over the past few seconds this had morphed into a battle of wills. He was calling her bluff, daring her to continue. And she was damned if she’d give in. She wanted his hands on her body, his fingers on her aching flesh, and she would settle for nothing less.
Refusing to look up, she moved her wrist another inch, up under the hem of her shorts. It was nowhere near where she wanted it.
She threw her head back, closed her eyes and imagined it to be his long fingers crawling up her thigh, propelling her toward ecstasy. A moan began inching its way up all the way from her lower back and she let it out.
The sound was erotic, thrilling to her own ears.
Rough hands seized the vibrator from her boneless fingers. Her eyes fell open, her body whimpering with unfulfilled desire.
His golden gaze glittering dark with fire, he loomed over her, color bleeding into his cheeks.
The desire uncoiling in his gaze was enough to scare her back into her shell—where it was safe, where she didn’t risk anything.
No.
A muscle jumped in his jaw as he flipped off the vibrator and threw it across the cabin. It landed with a thud.
She pulled herself to a kneeling position. The robe slid from her arms. “You better have a good reason for throwing that away.”
Tension smoldered around them, tightening every muscle in her into a quivering mass of anticipation.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” His accent was thickened, his words rolling over each other.
She ran a hand over her throat. His gaze followed the movement hungrily. “With the blast from the past episode we’ve just had, I figured it would be forever before you wanted to touch me again, so I was taking matters—”
He pulled her flush against him, until her breasts were crushed against the solid musculature of his chest. It was heaven. It was hell. It was everything she wanted with crystal-clear clarity.
“Do you want me to touch you?”
“Yes.” She dragged his hand to her chest, her heart racing. Her breasts cried out for his touch. “Here.” She dragged it down to her stomach. “And here.” She pulled it farther down to the juncture of her thighs. “Everywhere. Nothing but your touch will erase this pain—”
He plundered her mouth with his, swallowing her words. His lips were hard against her, grinding into her with savage need, forcing her to open up to him.
With a moan that never left her throat she gripped his shoulders and opened her mouth. He plunged his tongue into her—fast, ardent strokes that sent arrows of need shooting lower.
Molten desire pooled between her legs and she tried to squeeze them closer.
But his thigh was lodged between hers. And, God, he was so deliciously hard. She rubbed against his rock-hard muscles, groaning, whimpering.
She wanted him so much, needed him so much, and she was going to let him fill her inside out, fill every inch of her, with him, with his scent, with his touch, until the regrets gouging holes inside her were gone.
Because she wanted another chance at this. She wanted another chance with Diego.
* * *
Diego had never felt such all-consuming desire as he did for this woman. Need prickled along his skin, making his erection an instrument in self-torture. Seeing her with that blasted vibrator in her hand, her legs open in sinful invitation, was enough to push him to the edge of his control.
And he had never had much to begin with. Not when it came to her.
He plunged his tongue into her mouth with all the finesse of an impatient teenager. He licked the inseam, nipped at the sensitive flesh.
There was no tentativeness in her either. In fact the bold strokes of her tongue against his own had him thrusting his hips into her soft stomach like a randy animal.
Meu Deus, she tasted like sunshine and strawberries and the decadent promise of wild, hot sex. A hint of lily of the valley clung to her skin and filled his nostrils.
A loud whimper emanated from her when he sucked on her tongue. Her hands crawled up his nape into his hair. When she tugged his lower lip between her teeth he shuddered violently, jerking his lower body into hers.
The groove of her legs cradled his erection perfectly as she rubbed herself against him. Heat gath
ered low at the base of his back, balling up into unbearable need in his shaft.
How could anything that felt so good be bad?
He wanted to take her right there. Because she was his and she wanted him, and it was the one place where there was only truth between them.
He slipped his hands under the flimsy satin of her top. Her skin, silky soft and warm to the touch, slithered like velvet under his rough palms. Her breathing was harsh; her soft gasps and groans were goading him on.
He was about to tug the silky strap off her shoulder when she shook her head and pulled back.
He growled instantly, like a wild animal denied its prey at the last moment.
The next minute her hands were on the fly of his jeans. He groaned—more of a request this time than a demand—as she undid the button.
His teeth were on edge as his jeans gave in. And she wrapped her long fingers around his shaft.
With a guttural groan, he pushed into her hand, blood roaring in his veins.
His eyes flicked open when her hand stopped its mind-bending caresses.
Sweat gleaming on her brow, she was trying to tug her shorts down, but her fingers kept slipping on the satin hem. She tugged a little more and the sight of black panties peeking out from under the hemline sent his blood pressure skyrocketing.
Every inch of his body was coiled tight, anticipating the pleasure, remembering how tight and wet and good she had felt around him the last time. She tugged her top off and lust blinded him.
But it was the sight of her stomach that cleared his vision. She wasn’t showing much yet, but her midriff wasn’t flat either. And it stopped him in his tracks.
He didn’t want to force her against the wall and be done in a minute, which he was very close to doing. This could not be about slaking his lust. He didn’t want to lose control as he had done the last time. Not now. Not ever again.
Because once they did this he wouldn’t stop with tonight. He wanted her in his bed for the rest of their lives. If he kept control of his sanity, if he held himself back, maybe there was hope for a civilized relationship with her after all. That was what it had to be, for the sake of his children.
He wanted her to lose control, he wanted her mindless with pleasure and he wanted her begging for release. This time he wanted to savor every inch of her, wanted to linger over her body. This time he wanted all of her revealed to him.
“I want you inside me now, Diego. Please...” she said, her words a sensuous whisper.
Gritting his teeth, he clasped her wrists and stopped her. “No.”
* * *
Kim blinked, felt a tightening in her throat.
It was the cruelest word in the English language. She sagged against him, her breath coming in choppy little puffs. It was a good thing his hard body was still supporting her or she would have sagged to the floor. She hid her face in his rising and falling chest, loath to reveal the tears burning at the backs of her eyelids.
He lifted her into his arms. Only when he lowered her onto the bed, on top of the covers, did she open her eyes again. He stood over her, his tight features set into a stony mask of spine-tingling...resolve. That was the only word for it.
What she saw in the tight set of his mouth, in the lingering heat in his hungry gaze, set all her internal alarms ringing.
His jaw set, he trailed his gaze over her slowly, from the top of her hair to her pink toenails, without missing an inch in the process. Something flitted into it and a flutter began in the pit of her stomach.
She was still clothed, even though the upper curves of her breasts were visible over her bra and her shorts were bunched up against her upper thighs.
He disappeared and then reappeared on the bed in the blink of an eye. With something in his hand. “Take off your clothes.”
Her breaths came quick and rushed. The pink handcuffs looked absolutely flimsy in his large hands. An unrelenting throb, a tremble, started in her. Pushing back with her heel, she tried to roll away from him. He didn’t let her.
With her ankle in his free hand, he flicked his wrist and she slid down the bed, her legs now trapped between his knees.
A dark smile full of sinful promises curved his mouth. The handcuffs dangled in the air above her. “I want to see every inch of you, lick and kiss every inch of your skin. I want you incoherent with pleasure.”
She shook her head, her mouth dry as a desert. His words had the most arousing effect on her. A slow, wicked pull began pulsing at her sex and she clutched her thighs together.
It wasn’t enough that she had surrendered. She had to surrender everything. His words and her thoughts collided, her mind and her body clashed, even as an illicit thrill shot through her.
“No.”
He shrugged, sitting back on his haunches. “My way or no way. Last offer, gatinha. Give up your control or I’m walking out the door.”
There was a savage satisfaction, a grating pride in his words, that irked her.
She wanted to say, Fine. Slide off the bed and walk away. The word trembled on her lips. The sensible part of her was screaming at her to walk away. But what had all these years of being careful and logical brought her?
A crushing loneliness and nothing else.
She nodded, unable to give words to her acceptance.
His teeth were bared in a smile, gleaming with unabashed hunger.
Sliding back on the bed, trembling with a host of conflicting emotions, she unhooked her bra and shrugged it off.
A hungry groan was torn out of Diego and it shuddered around them.
He seemed to freeze right in front of her, drinking her in. Need knotted her nipples and moved incessantly lower. Gritting her jaw, she lay back against the bed and slowly peeled off her shorts in one movement.
He leaned forward and she drew in a sharp breath, her fingers halting on the edge of her panties. He clasped her wrists and tugged her arms upward. His shirt grazed her nipples, setting her skin ablaze. The hem of his jeans rubbed against her belly. She groaned and almost bucked off the bed, the delicious friction setting her skin on fire.
He neatly clamped her wrists with the handcuffs and moved back to his knees. “Turn around and lie facedown,” he threw at her roughly, before sliding off the bed.
She bristled at his command, even though the hoarse note in his words, the way he moved away from her as though he didn’t trust himself, sent a wave of feminine power rippling through her.
CHAPTER TEN
“CHOCOLATE OR STRAWBERRY?”
The question from across the room was fraught with unsatisfied hunger, mirroring her own. The soft Egyptian cotton chafed against her breasts and her skin. She let out a shaky breath.
“I have a choice?”
Silence—waiting, threatening—met her.
She shut her eyes, clutched the sheets with her fingers and mumbled “Chocolate...” Every second he didn’t touch her was reducing her into a mindless state of anticipation and need.
She didn’t know what she had expected—didn’t know what his question even meant. It was definitely not the hot slide of his oil-slick palms over her back.
The massage oil.
She groaned as he rubbed at the knots in her shoulder. The scent of dark chocolate combined with his own, infiltrating every pore of her. His calluses abraded her skin, sparking tiny pinpricks of pleasure all over.
Done with the knots in her shoulders, his hands moved down, over her lower back, lower still to her buttocks. She closed her eyes and savored the sensation as they traveled over her buttocks, her thighs, her calves and even her feet.
They pulled and kneaded, rubbed and stroked, until every muscle in her was pliant and boneless. Her throat was raw with the sounds she made. She felt as if she was floating on clouds.
But he didn’t stop.
And suddenly the tempo of his touch changed.
A different kind of pleasure slithered over her skin. Her mouth dried up. Her breath hitched in her throat.
Even his brea
thing seemed different, shallower, the strokes of his fingers more calculated.
A heat flush was overtaking every inch of her as he pushed her thighs the tiniest inch apart.
His slick hands molded over her thigh muscles. With new tension replacing old knots, she breathed hard. He tugged her panties down. She shuddered and struggled to move.
“Relax, pequena.”
His command was gruff, curt.
She felt the slide of his hot mouth, open and scorching against the base of her spine. She moaned—a guttural sound that filled the cabin.
He scraped his teeth over one buttock. She clenched her thighs, trying to catch the ache there. With his huge palm between her thighs, he didn’t give her that satisfaction.
She whimpered, ready to beg. “Please, Diego...just—”
“No, gatinha. Remember—my rules, my way.”
His words elicited an erotic thrill from her that she had no way to control. Sliding his left hand beneath her tummy, he pulled her up a little, while his right hand steadily but slowly crept toward her sex.
An electric current sizzled along her nerves. She bit her lower lip hard, striving to catch the groan that was tearing out of her.
“Let go of your lip,” he ordered, his voice guttural.
She shook her head in denial, or something like it.
He snuck a finger into her sex. Millions of nerve endings flared to life.
She flinched from the pleasure and then shivered all over, her toes curling into the bed.
Dear God, what was he doing to her?
She was draped over his hand like a rag doll, everything open and visible to him. She had never felt so vulnerable and so out of control. And yet she couldn’t wait for him to do whatever he wanted with her.
His hand reached her curls, delved through her folds. She was aching for his touch, for the pressure that would send her over.
“Droga, but you’re so wet and ready.”
A scream built in her chest and she trembled from head to toe. “Please, Diego...” she whispered on a sob.
Another finger joined the first inside her sheath. She rubbed herself into his touch and heard his groan.