The Helen Bianchin Collection

by Helen Bianchin

  Her subtle perfume teased his senses, and he nuzzled the sensitive skin, tasted it, nipped ever so gently with his teeth, and felt the slight spasm of her body’s reaction to his touch.

  She was a generous lover. Passionate, with a sense of adventure and fun he found endearing.

  He trailed his lips down the slope of her breast and suckled one tender peak, savoured, then moved to render a similar supplication to its twin.

  Did he know what he did to her? Aysha felt a stab of pain at the thought that his lovemaking might be contrived. A practised set of moves that pushed all the right buttons.

  Once, just once she wanted to feel the tremors of need shake his body... for her, only her. To know that she could make him so crazy with desire that he had no restraint.

  Was it asking too much to want love? She wore his ring. Soon she would bear his name. It should be enough.

  She wanted to mean so much more to him than just a satisfactory bed partner, a charming hostess.

  Take what he’s prepared to give, and be grateful, a tiny voice prompted. A cup half-full is better than one that is empty.

  Her hands linked at his nape and she drew his head down to hers, exulting in the feel of his mouth as he shaped her own.

  She let her tongue slide against his, then conducted a slow, sweeping circle before initiating a probing dance that was almost as evocative as the sexual act itself.

  His hand shaped her nape and held fast her head, while the other slipped low over one hip, cupped her bottom and drew her close in against him.

  She wanted him now, hard and fast, without any preliminaries. To be able to feel the power, the strength, without caution or care. As if he couldn’t bear to wait a second longer to effect possession.

  The familiar slide of his fingers, the gentle probing exploration as he sought the warm moistness of her feminine core brought a gasping sigh from her lips.

  Followed by a despairing groan as he began an evocative stimulation. It wasn’t fair that he should have such intimate knowledge and be aware precisely how to wield it to drive a woman wild.

  His mouth hardened, and his jaw took control of hers, moving it in rhythm with his own.

  She clutched hold of his shoulders and held on as his fingers probed deeper, and just as she thought she could bear it no longer he shifted position.

  A cry rose and died in her throat as he slid into her in one long, thrusting movement.

  Dear God, that felt good. So good. She murmured her pleasure, then gave a startled gasp as he tumbled her down onto the bed and withdrew.

  His mouth left hers, and began a seeking trail down her throat, tasting the vulnerable hollows at the base of her neck, the soft, quivering flesh of each breast, the indentation of her navel.

  She knew his intention, and felt the flame lick along every nerve-end, consuming every sensitised nerve-cell until she was close to conflagration.

  Her head tossed from one side to the other as sensation took hold of her whole body. Part of her wanted to tell him to stop before it became unbearable, but the husky admonition sounded so low in her throat as to be indistinguishable.

  He was skilled, so very highly skilled in giving a woman pleasure. The slight graze of his teeth, the erotic laving of his tongue. He knew just where to touch to urge her towards the edge. And how to hold her there, until she begged for release.

  Aysha thought she cried out, and she bit down hard as Carlo feathered light kisses over her quivering stomach, then paused to suckle at her breast,

  His mouth closed on hers, and she arched up against him as he entered her in one surging movement, stretching delicate tissues to their utmost capacity.

  He began to move, slowly at first, then with increasing depth and strength as she became consumed with the feel of him.

  His skin, her own, was warm and slick with sweat, and the blood ran through her veins like quicksilver.

  It was more than a physical joining, for she gifted him her heart, her soul, everything. She was his. Only his. At that moment she would have died for him, so complete was her involvement.

  Frightening, shattering, she reflected a long time later as she lay curled into the warmth of his body. For it almost destroyed her concept of who and what she had become beneath his tutelage.

  The steady rise and fall of his chest was reassuring, the beat of his heart strong. The lazy stroke of his fingers along her spine indicated he wasn’t asleep yet, and the slight pressure against the indentations of each vertebrae was soothing. She could feel his lips brush lightly over her hair as she drifted into a peaceful sleep.

  It was the soft, hazy aftermath of great lovemaking. A time for whispered avowals of love, Aysha thought as she woke, the affirmation of commitment.

  Aysha wanted to utter the words, and hear them in return. Yet she knew she would die a silent death if he didn’t respond in kind. She pressed a light butterfly kiss to the muscled ridge of his chest and traced a gentle circle with the tip of her tongue.

  He tasted of musk, edged with a faint tang that was wholly male. She nipped the hard flesh with her teeth and bestowed a love-bite, then she soothed it gently before moving close to a sensitive male nipple.

  She trailed her fingers over one hip, lingered near his groin, and felt his stomach muscles tense.

  ‘That could prove dangerous,’ Carlo warned as she began to caress him with gentle intimacy.

  The soft slide of one finger, as fleeting as the tip of a butterfly’s wing, in a careful tactile exploration. Incredible how the male organ could engorge and enlarge in size. Almost frightening, its degree of power as instrument to a woman’s pleasure.

  Aysha had the desire to tantalise him to the brink of madness, and unleash everything that was wild and untamed, until there were no boundaries. Just two people as one, attuned and in perfect accord on every level. Spiritual, mental and physical.

  A gasp escaped her throat as he clasped both hands on her waist and swept her to sit astride him.

  Excitement spiralled through her body as he arched his hips and sent her tumbling down against his chest.

  One hand slid to her nape as he angled her head to his, then his mouth was on hers, all heat and passion as he took possession.

  The kiss seared her heart, branding her in a way that made her his...totally. Mind, body, and soul. She had no thought for anything but the man and the storm raging within.

  It made anything she’d shared before seem less. Dear Lord, she’d ached for his passion. But this ... this was raw, primitive. Mesmeric. Ravaging.

  She met and matched his movements, driven by a hunger so intense she had no recollection of time or place.

  Aysha wasn’t even aware when he reversed positions, and it was the gentling of his touch, the gradual loss of intensity that intruded on her conscious mind and brought with it a slow return to sanity.

  There was a sense of exquisite wonderment, a sensation of wanting desperately to hold onto the moment in case it might fracture and fragment.

  She didn’t feel the soft warmth of tears as they slid slowly down her cheeks. Nor was she aware of the sexual heat emanating from her skin, or the slight trembling of her body as Carlo used his hands, his lips to bring her down.

  He absorbed the dampness on one cheek, then pressed his lips against one closed eyelid, before moving to effect a similar supplication on the other. His hands shifted as he gently rolled onto his back, carrying her with him so she lay cradled against the length of his body.

  Slight tremors shook her slim form, and he brought her mouth to his in a soft, evocative joining. His fingers trailed the shape of her, gently exploring the slim supple curves, the slender waist, the soft curve of her buttocks.

  It was Carlo who broke contact long minutes later, and she trailed a hand down the edge of his cheek.

  ‘I get first take on the shower. You make the coffee,’ she whispered.

  His slow smile caused havoc with her pulse-rate. ‘We share the shower, then I’ll organise coffee while you cook b
reakfast.’

  ‘Chauvinist,’ Aysha commented with musing tolerance.

  His lips caressed her breast, and desire arrowed through her body, hot, needy, and wildly wanton. ‘We can always miss breakfast and focus on the shower.’

  His arousal was a potent force, and her eyes danced with mischief as she contemplated the option. ‘As much as the offer attracts me, I need food to charge my energy levels.’ She placed the tip of a finger over his lips, then gave a mild yelp as he nipped it with his teeth. ‘That calls for revenge.’

  Carlo’s hands spanned her waist and he shifted her to one side, then he leaned over her. ‘Try it.’

  She rose to the challenge at once, although the balance of power soon became uneven, and then it hardly seemed to matter any more who won or lost.

  Afterwards she had the quickest shower on record, then she dressed, swept her hair into a twist at her nape, added blusher, eye colour and mascara.

  She looked, Carlo noted with respect, as if she’d spent thirty minutes on her grooming instead of the five it had taken her.

  ‘Sit down and eat,’ he commanded as he slid an omelette onto a plate. ‘Coffee’s ready.’

  ‘You’re a gem among men,’ Aysha complimented as she sipped the coffee. Pure nectar on the palate, and the omelette was perfection.

  ‘From chauvinist to gem in the passage of twenty minutes,’ he drawled with unruffled ease, and she spared him a wicked grin in between mouthfuls.

  ‘Don’t get a swelled head.’

  She watched as he poured himself some coffee then joined her at the table. The dark navy towelling robe accented his breadth of shoulder, and dark curling hair showed at the vee of the lapels. Her eyes slid down to the belt tied at his waist, and lingered.

  ‘You don’t have time to find out,’ he mocked lazily, and she offered a stunning smile.

  ‘It’s my last day at work.’ She rose to her feet and gulped the last mouthful of coffee. ‘But as of tomorrow...’

  ‘Promises,’ Carlo taunted, and she reached up to brush her lips to his cheek, except he moved his head and they touched his mouth instead.

  ‘Got to rush,’ she said with genuine regret. ‘See you tonight.’

  Her job was important to her, and she loved the concept of using colour and design to make a house a home. The right furnishings, furniture, fittings, so that it all added up to a beautiful whole that was both eye-catching and comfortable. She’d earned a reputation for going that extra mile for a client, exploring every avenue in the search to get it right.

  However, there were days when phone calls didn’t produce the results she wanted, and today was one of them. Added to which she had to run a final check over all the orders that were due to come in while she was away. An awesome task, just on its own.

  Then there was lunch with some of her fellow staff, and the presentation of a wedding gift... an exquisite crystal platter. The afternoon seemed to fly on wings, and it was after six when she rode the lift to Carlo’s penthouse.

  ‘Ten minutes,’ she promised him as she entered the lounge, and she stepped out of heeled pumps en route to the shower.

  Aysha was ready in nine, and he snagged her arm as she raced towards the door.

  ‘Slow down,’ he directed, and she threw him an urgent glance.

  ‘We’re late. We should have left already.’ She tugged her hand and made no impression. ‘They’ll be waiting for us.’

  He pulled her close, and lowered his head down to hers. ‘So they’ll wait a little longer.’

  His mouth touched hers with such incredible gentleness her insides began to melt, and she gave a faint despairing groan as her lips parted beneath the pressure of his.

  Minutes later he lifted his head and surveyed the languid expression softening those beautiful smoky grey eyes. Better, he noted silently. Some of the tension had ebbed away, and she looked slightly more relaxed.

  ‘OK, let’s go.’

  ‘That was deliberate,’ Aysha said a trifle ruefully as they rode the lift down to the underground car park, and caught his musing smile.

  ‘Guilty.’

  He’d slowed her galloping pace down to a relaxed trot, and she offered a smile in silent thanks as they left the lift and crossed to the Mercedes.

  ‘How was your day?’ she queried as she slid into the passenger seat and fastened her belt.

  ‘Assembling quotes, checking computer print-outs, checking a building site. Numerous phone calls.’

  ‘All hands-on stuff, huh?’

  The large car sprang into instant life the moment he turned the key, and he spared her a wry smile as they gained street level.

  ‘That about encapsulates it.’

  The church was a beautiful old stone building set back from the road among well-tended lawns and gardens. Symmetrically planted trees and their spreading branches added to the portrayed seclusion.

  There was an air of peace and grace apparent, meshing with the mystique of blessed holy ground.

  Aysha drew a deep breath as she saw the several cars lining the curved driveway. Everyone was here.

  Attending someone else’s wedding, watching the ceremony on film or television, was a bit different from participating in one’s own, albeit this was merely a rehearsal of the real thing.

  ‘I want to carry the basket,’ Emily, the youngest flower girl, insisted, and tried to wrest it from Samantha’s grasp.

  ‘I don’t want to hold a pillow. It looks sissy,’ Jonathon, the eldest page boy declared.

  Oh, my. If he thought carrying a small satin lace-edged pillow demeaned his boyhood, then just wait until he had to get dressed in a miniature suit, satin waistcoat, buttoned shirt and bow-tie.

  ‘Sissy,’ the youngest page boy endorsed.

  ‘You have to,’ Emily insisted importantly.

  ‘Don’t.’

  ‘Do so.’

  Aysha didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. ‘What if Samantha carries the basket of rose petals, and Emily carries the pillow?’

  It was almost possible to see the ensuing mental tussle as each little girl weighed the importance of each task.

  ‘I want the pillow,’ Samantha decided. Rings held more value than rose-petals to be strewn over the carpeted aisle.

  ‘You can have the basket.’ Emily, too, had done her own calculations.

  Teresa rolled her eyes, the girls’ respective mothers attempted to pacify, and when that failed they tried bribery.

  The four bridesmaids looked tense, for they’d each been assigned a child to care for during the formal ceremony.

  - ‘OK.’ Aysha lifted both hands in a gesture of expressive defeat ‘This is how it’s going to be. Two baskets, so Emily and Samantha get to carry one each.’ She cast both boys a stern look. ‘Two pillows.’ ‘Two?’ Teresa queried incredulously, and Aysha inclined her head.

  ‘Two.’

  The little girls beamed, and both boys bent their heads in sulky disagreement.

  Maybe it would have been wiser not to give the children a rehearsal at all, and simply tell them what to do on the day and hope they’d concentrate so hard there wouldn’t be the opportunity for error.

  Celestial assistance was obviously going to be needed, Aysha mused as she listened to the priest’s instructions.

  An hour later they were all seated at a long table in a restaurant nominated as children-friendly. The food was good, the wine did much to relax fraught nerves, and Aysha enjoyed the informality of it all as she leaned back against Carlo’s supporting arm.

  ‘Tired?’

  She lifted her face to his, and her eyes sparkled with latent intimacy. ‘It’s been a long day.’

  He leaned in close and brushed his lips to her temple. ‘You can sleep in in the morning.’

  ‘Generous of you. But I need to be home early to help Teresa with preparations for the bridal shower. Remember?’

  It was almost eleven when everyone began to make a move, and a further half-hour before Aysha and Carlo were able to leave, for
the bridesmaids lingered and Teresa had last-minute instructions to impart.

  The witching hour of midnight struck as she preceded Carlo into the penthouse, and she slipped off her shoes, took the clip from her hair and shook it loose, then she padded through to the kitchen.

  ‘Coffee?’

  Aysha sensed rather than heard him move behind her, and she murmured her approval as his hands kneaded tense shoulder muscles.

  ‘Good?’

  Oh, yes. So good, she was prepared to beg him to continue. ‘Please. Don’t stop.’ It was bliss, almost heaven, and she closed her eyes as his fingers worked a magic all on their own.

  ‘Any ideas for tomorrow night?’

  She heard the lazy quality in his voice and smiled. ‘You mean we have a free evening?’

  ‘I can book dinner.’

  ‘Don’t,’ she said at once. ‘I’ll pick up something.’

  ‘I could do this much better if you lay down on the bed.’

  Her senses were heightened, and her pulse began to quicken. ‘That might prove dangerous.’

  ‘Eventually,’ Carlo agreed lazily. ‘But there are advantages to a full body massage.’

  Aysha’s blood pressure moved up a notch. ‘Are you seducing me?’

  His soft laughter sounded deep and husky close to her ear. ‘Am I succeeding?’

  ‘I’ll let you know,’ she promised with wicked intent. ‘In about an hour from now.’

  ‘An hour?’

  ‘The quality of the massage will govern your reward,’ Aysha informed him solemnly, and he laughed as he swept her into his arms and carried her through to the bedroom.

  To lay prone on towels as Carlo slowly smoothed aromatic oil over every inch of her body was sensual torture of the sweetest kind.

  Whatever had made her think she’d last an hour? After thirty minutes the pleasure was so intense, it was all she could do not to roll onto her back and beg him to take her.

  ‘I think,’ she said between gritted teeth, ‘that’s enough.’

  His fingertips smoothed up her thighs and lingered a hair’s breadth away from the apex, then shaped each buttock before settling at her waist.

  ‘You said an hour,’ Carlo reminded her, and gently rolled her onto her back.