Pleasured by the Secret Millionaire

Home > Young Adult > Pleasured by the Secret Millionaire > Page 8
Pleasured by the Secret Millionaire Page 8

by Natalie Anderson


  He started to see even clearer. ‘You don’t want any soft treatment because of your history.’

  She nodded.

  ‘You want to be just like anybody else.’

  She nodded again.

  He chuckled. ‘I’m sorry, honey, but there is no way on this earth you’ll ever be just like anybody else.’ He finished his thought before her mad look got madder. ‘You’re special.’ Very special and his body was harder than it had ever been. He asked, ‘Do you want to be pushed to extremes, Sienna?’

  She stared. ‘What sort of extremes?’ She sucked in a breath as if she were tasting fresh mountain air for the first time. ‘Like last night sort of extreme?’

  It was his turn to nod—slowly. ‘Yeah.’ He slid his hands to her hips, wanting to keep her near him. ‘Shall we find out exactly how much pleasure your body is capable of?’

  The shiver shook her from head to foot. Huge blue pools stared up at him, mirroring her thoughts—incredulity at what he’d said, excitement, temptation.

  He couldn’t quite believe he’d said it himself, but now he had, he knew it was exactly what she needed. And what he needed—the most wonderful challenge. The opportunity to forget himself, his life, and just bury deep into her, make her forget the trauma her body had been through, show her how much fun she could have.

  He saw the moment she was sold—the flash in her eyes, the parting of her mouth.

  ‘OK.’

  He hugged her, holding her close to the beat in his own chest, savouring the satisfaction in knowing she wouldn’t be running out on him again, that he’d have all the time he needed to quench this lust. Thank God they were finally in agreement.

  No one had ever stared at her before with such a look of want. Did he really not mind it? Did he even notice it? Did he not wonder?

  ‘Is it OK if I touch it?’

  So he definitely saw it. He ran his finger down the white line that bisected her from base of her throat to diaphragm. Then he looked to the side. He grinned. ‘Is it OK if I touch these?’ He cupped her breasts; his thumbs stroked her nipples through her bra. ‘Very pretty. Pretty flowers, but what’s underneath is even prettier.’ He pulled the lace down so her nipples played peek-a-boo over the top. Bent and pressed kisses along the rising slope of one, stopped just shy of her nipple—it was so hard it hurt. He slid his hands around her back, loosened the catch and let the straps fall from her shoulders.

  ‘Extreme…’he muttered. ‘Let’s see if we can do extreme.’

  She held her breath, refusing to let her body sway towards his, one last doubt needing to be dealt with. ‘I don’t frighten you?’

  He laughed. ‘A slim little thing like you?’

  ‘No.’ She jabbed a finger at her chest. ‘This doesn’t frighten you?’

  ‘Honestly?’ He stared straight into her eyes. ‘No.’ He grazed the back of his knuckles against her nipples. ‘I’ll tell you what frightens me. The thought of not having you for one whole night where I can lie with you and we can go at it like rabbits.’

  She giggled, spontaneous effervescence bursting through her solemnity. ‘How do rabbits do it?’

  ‘I don’t know but they do it lots. Let’s just go with the lots for now, OK?’

  ‘OK.’

  He pulled his tee shirt over his head. Then he returned to her breasts, finally fitting that heaven-sent mouth around her pointed tip and letting his tongue rough over it.

  She marvelled at the feel of his hands on her body, the way he was struggling with his passion. He really wasn’t fazed by her scar at all—his desire not lessened by any degree. If anything he was even more aroused than the night before. She figured that was because, in one way, he didn’t care. He just wanted her. Wasn’t worried for her. Because there was nothing invested here—they weren’t talking futures or relationships or anything remotely serious. Hell, they weren’t even talking tomorrow. They were talking sex—good, hard sex, right now.

  That was OK. In fact, she reasoned in the last seconds she could still think, that was perfect—they were living life right in this moment. Exactly how she’d decided she had to live. No guarantees, just go with the now.

  He undid the button on her skirt and tugged at it, his fingers catching her panties underneath as well. Slowly, he slid his hands down, kneeling before her as he pulled both skirt and underwear off.

  ‘You have the most magnificent legs I have ever seen.’

  She looked down. Six foot three of strongly muscled, extremely naked man was at her feet and gazing at her with unconcealed lust—despite her scar. She was as naked as he. The answering desire inspired in her meant she could hardly stand. She reached a shaking hand out to his shoulder, needing the support.

  He stood, scooped her up. ‘Do you have any idea the thoughts I’ve had these last twenty-four hours?’

  She let her head fall back on his chest, willingly doing the featherweight female act. ‘Do I want to?’

  ‘Sure you do. But—’ he grinned as he spread her on the bed to his satisfaction ‘—I’m not going to tell you, I’m just going to do it.’

  He started with a kiss that tasted of his smile and his promise of maximum pleasure. She kissed him back, hungry to take the satisfaction she knew he’d give. His determination, his intention, was unmistakable and she was breathless with just the thought of it, let alone the accomplishment.

  He left her lips, left her gasping, while he kissed her cheeks, her jaw, down her neck—kissing all over her shoulders and chest until her entire torso had been touched by his beautiful mouth. His hands worked in accompaniment—trailing fire, teasing, tending to the parts of her that his mouth wasn’t fixed to. Meantime she tried to take in air.

  He slid down the bed, between legs she’d happily parted. He placed one knee over his shoulder, so he could kiss along the inside of her leg. ‘That OK for you?’

  Nothing beat the sensation of his stubble gently rasping against her inner thighs. ‘Uh-huh.’

  He lifted her other leg over his other shoulder so his head was cradled between her thighs. She was hot and wet and he hadn’t even touched her yet—not there. She could hardly wait. She raised her hips, wanting to rock them, wanting him to rub and rotate and reach right into her.

  His lips curved and her desire to have them press against her became paramount. ‘Rhys.’

  He bent his head and she stopped breathing altogether. When she started again, it was even faster and shallower. Her entire body beat to the pulse of his movements, to the rhythm of the blood in her veins. She’d never lain like this. Never wanted anything or anyone the way she wanted him doing this, like this.

  His fingers stroked, his mouth teased. And all the while she got hotter and wetter and way more vocal about what she wanted—for once in her life she had someone listening, who was willing to take her where she wanted to go at the speed she wanted to go at. She was on the journey and he was the chauffeur. She called out, encouraging him, so close.

  He raised his head. ‘Need to slow down a second, honey.’

  Why?

  His half-smile at her expression inflamed her. When he gave her the reason he nearly sent her over the edge. ‘I want you really ready.’

  She was ready alright. She was beyond ready.

  Suddenly he rose, kneeling, hands on her calves. As if she were a doll, he scissored her legs, pushing one right above her head. He looked intrigued. ‘You weren’t kidding about the splits.’

  She grinned and shook her head. Pliant, she stretched for him. He wound her other leg around his waist. The position had her so exposed. His hand hardened round her ankle, the look on his face intensified as he gazed down the length of her leg with wicked intent. Aroused beyond bearing, she could hardly stand the wait.

  He arched over, bringing his hips into line with hers. ‘This is going to be as deep as it can get. That OK?’

  Of course it was OK. She was just damn glad she’d done all that yoga and had no problems with flexibility. ‘Yeah.’

 
He edged in a fraction and then, with his other hand pressing on the mattress beside her hip, penning her in place, he caught her eye and thrust fiercely.

  She cried out. Deep wasn’t the word.

  His eyes narrowed; she could see the tension in his jaw. ‘OK?’

  She nodded. More than OK. More than anything she’d ever known. Her body half lifted off the bed with him as he tilted back, pausing before pushing in again.

  She couldn’t hold back the whimper—of delight and of desire. This was incredible.

  ‘You want physical, Sienna?’ He gulped in air. ‘I can do physical.’

  She picked up what he’d left unsaid. ‘Just physical?’

  He puffed out. ‘Yeah.’

  Fine. At least he was honest. Besides, she’d be gone in a week, and she was living right now. ‘So do it.’

  He didn’t need telling again. Slowly, but with the impact of a ten-tonne truck, he surged into her, grinding deep before pulling back inch by devastating inch.

  She’d never been so totally possessed. She couldn’t move, couldn’t even embrace him back, instead she reached her arms up above her head and took hold of the railing of the headboard—trying to keep as in control as him but with every deep, powerful thrust he took a little more from her.

  ‘You like it?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Want more?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Harder?’

  ‘Yes.’

  And from then she couldn’t speak, could only moan and not even do that consciously. All she could see was him. All she could feel was him—he was touching her innermost core, and it was so sensitive, so exquisite, she honestly thought she couldn’t cope. The heat in her body was so intense she shied from it, shook her head, wanting it to stop, never wanting it to stop.

  He spoke. Growled at her as he slowly pulled out. ‘Give me that fearless response I had last night. You don’t want fear from me—well, I don’t want fear from you either.’

  He pushed harder on her leg, parting her further so she was so open, so that each time his body slammed forward as much of him entered her as was physically possible—and then some. His pace increased and her consciousness receded. His pelvic bone rubbed against hers—tormenting her, bringing her closer and closer to an oblivion she couldn’t contend with.

  She held tighter to the rail. She couldn’t take it, couldn’t…

  ‘More?’ His hand gripped, his muscles bunched, his expression showed his thin grip on his self-command.

  She couldn’t resist. Gave in to the overwhelming instinct to surrender. ‘Yes. Oh…’

  He pounded. She lost it. Closed her eyes against him, screwed them tight in the agony of ecstasy, her scream sounding around the room.

  His body locked rigid as he uttered one word before giving in to the tension, the demand to drive deep and hard that one last time and pour his all into her.

  ‘Perfect.’

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  ‘WE NEED to rest a while.’ Rhys reached down to the side of the bed, brought back up a bottle of water and held it for Sienna to sip before drinking deep himself. He caught her eye and winked. ‘Not bad.’

  She lay, gasping for air, wondering if she’d ever catch her breath again. Knowing that when she did, she was asking him to do that again. And again. Blood pounded through her body, singing through her veins. She’d never felt so alive.

  ‘Tell me about it now.’

  ‘The scar?’

  He nodded.

  Why hold back? He hadn’t been lying when he’d said she didn’t scare him. He’d just taken her apart and put her back together and shown her she worked just fine. She could tell him it all, knowing he wasn’t going to treat her any different—he’d proved that magnificently. ‘I was born with a heart condition. My valves didn’t work properly and eventually I had to have a couple replaced.’

  ‘Valves?’

  She nodded.

  He nodded with her. ‘How did they find out about it?’

  ‘My dad died from a heart condition when I was little. He was young—it was really hard on my mum. She got worried that my brother and I might have inherited a weak heart. So she got us checked out and they found it.’ She grimaced. ‘Then it was all on.’

  ‘What was on?’

  She understood the way her mother had reacted, why she’d gone so over the top—she’d never got over her husband’s death. She didn’t want to lose another of her loved ones. Seeing her pain had made Sienna’s decisions for her own future—she couldn’t control how Jake and her mother felt, but she could stop how other people felt about her. She refused to burden anyone else with that kind of worry, that heartache. And she refused to let anyone else try to restrict her life the way they had hers—even with the best of intentions. Her relationship with Neil had cemented that decision. It had proved she couldn’t have it all. So no long-term relationships, no marriage. Certainly no kids. She didn’t want them to inherit this crummy heart. It was the price she’d pay to have the freedom to do as she wanted.

  ‘Mum was terrified she’d lose me. She had a terrible time losing Dad. I know she didn’t mean to but her fear made my life a nightmare. So did Jake—my brother. I understand it, I do. But they were so restrictive, totally overprotective. And everyone knew about it. It defined me. Seems like that was who I was, that was all I was. The girl with the dodgy ticker.’

  She pulled the sheet up, covering her cooling body. ‘I was at the doctor’s my whole life. Second opinions, check-ups—any hint of something as little as a cold and I was packed off to the damn doctor—again and again and again. Sidelined from all the fun things.’ She paused to draw breath so she could speak with greater force. ‘I hated it. Hated them. Constant prodding. Constant questions. Telling you what you can and can’t do—all the time. Not that Mum listened too close anyway—she only heard the can’t not the can.’

  She got a grip on her emotion, tried to look to the future. ‘I’ve had the operation now. I’ve got my degree. I’m well and strong and I want to move on.’

  She still disliked doctors. Knew it was ridiculous when they’d effectively saved her life. But she’d been coddled for so long, eventually the rebellious teen moment had hit and they’d been a good target—better than hurting her family for simply loving her. But her brother and mother still hadn’t seemed to have adjusted to her new status, even though the operation was a few years ago now. Same with everyone else she knew. Which was why she’d decided to move away and to keep moving.

  ‘And boyfriends?’

  She tightened the sheet about her. ‘Not so good.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘I don’t like everyone knowing.’

  ‘And he told people.’

  She nodded. ‘And he was overprotective. Really overprotective.’ Her sigh came from deep within. ‘People change when they find out. I don’t want this to be all that I am. Yes, it’s part of me. But it’s not all of me. I have more to offer than that. It’s better if people don’t know.’

  ‘So what, you’re going to stay covered up for ever?’

  ‘Maybe.’ She smiled. ‘I’m going to start somewhere new again.’

  ‘What if you fall in love and want to settle down?’

  Settling down wasn’t an option for her. Her own family had been to hell and back for her. She wasn’t doing that to anyone else and she wasn’t giving up her newly grasped freedom. She shrugged the question off. ‘That’s not on the horizon. I just want to live life now.’

  ‘How do your family feel about your trip?’ Unerringly he zeroed in on her weak spot—he seemed to have a real knack for that. She felt the blush. They didn’t know the half of it. Thought she was in Australia for over a month and then heading straight to the UK. She hadn’t told them about her detour on the way. Not wanting to worry them unnecessarily. She wasn’t taking outrageous risks. She’d present it to them afterwards as a fait accompli—when her confidence was stronger. ‘They’re OK with it.’

  Despic
able. That was him. He should tell her. The truth. Now. But telling her would make her mad with him and he got the vibe she’d be less than impressed with his MD qualifications. Kind of ironic, seeing most women liked the idea of being with a doctor. Given they were usually rich and all. But Rhys was beyond rich too. And he liked the fact she didn’t know either of those things about him. He liked the fact that she simply shared the raw physical attraction. It was basic. Why should they have to go any deeper than that? But already they were going deeper. Her words had an effect on him. ‘Yes, it’s part of me. But it’s not all of me.’ They had more in common than he was willing to admit. They’d both experienced trauma, defining them. She was determined to overcome hers. He could never leave his behind. Could never forget. Except when he was in her arms he felt better. Recharged. Couldn’t he have that for just a little longer?

  Rhys hadn’t had such a selfish urge in a really, really long time. But, he reasoned, she need never know. They’d have this fantastic holiday fling together. Have a great time. He’d help her learn how wonderfully well her body worked. How desirable she was. Then she’d go and he’d head back to work refreshed and satisfied. Her company was invigorating. He hadn’t had this much fun in what felt like for ever. He’d come back to life.

  ‘Tell me about yours.’

  He wondered what she meant for a moment. Then saw what she was looking at. His thigh. His scar. Memories flew at him. He wasn’t ever rid of them for long. He never talked about it. Never would, with anyone.

  ‘Skateboard accident.’

  He heard it all. The squeal of the wheels as the brakes were slammed on—too late. The crunch of bone on concrete, the spattering sound of blood, the pulse weakening, the look in Theo’s eyes as the life had literally bled out of him—the silent plea that Rhys had been unable to answer. If only he’d listened ten seconds before. If only he’d stopped when his kid cousin had asked. If only he hadn’t been so hell-bent on being the fastest, the best…

 

‹ Prev