Argentinian Billionaire (Blood and Thunder 2)

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Argentinian Billionaire (Blood and Thunder 2) Page 10

by Susan Stephens


  “I know you said I shouldn’t take part,” she began as he approached.

  “You disobeyed me,” he said coldly. “And not for the first time. Is the horse injured?”

  “No. He’s fine. I was just checking his legs when you rode up—”

  “Wait for me in the stable when you’ve seen him settled.”

  He didn’t wait for her reply, though she got the message loud and clear: if she valued her job, she wouldn’t disobey him a second time.

  She could only speculate as to what her punishment would be. The more she thought about it, the more her throat dried. Dante had been away a long time, and she’d missed him. Her body had missed him. Seeing the heat in his eyes, she guessed he’d missed her too. Would he take a stern view of her disobedience? Under some circumstances, she might take a dim view of that, but as her gaze followed him as he moved around the guests at the party, being charming to everyone, all she wanted was to be with him. And sooner rather than later, Rose concluded as she led Stargazer back to the darkened stable block.

  ~~o0o~~

  Rose was waiting for him, perched on a hay bale, swinging her legs, looking not a bit repentant. He found it hard to be angry with her. She was so understated and unaffected, she made him smile. The horses were quietly munching. Everything was as it should be. Only his engines were roaring. The sounds from the party were faint enough to remind him of their first meeting, when Rose had cooled him off with a hosepipe. With retribution on his mind, he grabbed a soft-bristled dandy brush from the grooming table and unhooked a whip with a long fiberglass shaft covered in leather. The leather keeper, shaped like a tongue at the end of the whip, prevented the horse's skin from being marked. The handle had a loop of leather to secure the grip and prevent it from slipping through the rider's hand. With that in his hand, the urge to pleasure Rose was fierce. The thought of combining pleasure with discipline made him instantly hard.

  Chapter Ten

  Rose shrieked with shock as something skimmed across her back. The tip of a whip, she realized. Whirling around to see Dante on the other end of it led to her acting on instinct. Moving quickly, she seized the shaft and tried to pull it from his hands, but that only succeeded in making him laugh. She dodged to one side, but he grabbed her wrist and brought her close. “You didn’t seriously think I was about to thrash you, did you, Rose?” he murmured, his black stare dark and amused on her face.

  “I didn’t know what to think,” she admitted, “but I wasn’t about to take any chances.”

  Dante hummed. “So, how shall I punish you for your disobedience?”

  As his big, hard frame was pressed up so tightly against hers, she could feel every inch of him, including the many impressive inches of his erection, her throat was momentarily too tight to speak. But she could wrestle him. She wasn’t about to give in without a fight—not when fighting him felt as good as this.

  “Do you have a use for that whip?” she challenged as he held her in a grip like iron.

  “I certainly do,” he confirmed, arousing her with his amused confidence. ‘I wouldn’t have picked it up otherwise.”

  “And the dandy brush? Clean, I hope?”

  His lips quirked at one corner. “Brand-new.”

  “Are you planning to groom a horse?”

  “You’ve been a bad girl. You disobeyed me. You risked your safety and that of a very valuable horse. Don’t you think you deserve punishment?”

  “I’m not a girl,” she flared. “I’m a woman who made a considered decision.”

  “You’re a rebel,” he argued with a long black look, “and you were reckless tonight.”

  She shrugged. “Maybe. You wanted me to fit in. You wanted me to be one of the boys, and I am.”

  “Did I say that?”

  “You didn’t have to. As for whether or not I could use some discipline…?”

  How is it possible to feel so aroused?

  Her lips pressed down as she blazed a challenge back at Dante. “So long as you don’t plan to thrash me with that whip, I’m…interested.”

  “That’s what I thought,” he murmured, locking the door.

  Her throat tightened as Dante turned back to her. Without saying a word, he began to undo the buttons down the front of her shirt. Using an agonizing lack of haste, he pushed it from her shoulders. Holding her at arm’s length, he drew the tip of the whip slowly down between her breasts, then farther still. She drew a fast breath in as he teased her with the rough leather tongue. Her entire body was responding with the most desperate hunger.

  “Breeches off,” he instructed.

  As she bent to do as he asked, starting by taking her boots off, Dante traced the line of her buttocks with the leather tongue. The small piece of hide carried so much promise, she was already unbearably aroused by the time he brought it between her legs.

  “Don’t stop undressing,” he warned as she froze in place to savor each stroke.

  He was quite right. She would have happily remained bent over with her legs edged slightly apart to feel the searching touch of that tongue for hours. It was with a considerable amount of disappointment that she straightened up to do as he asked.

  Standing in front of him in her serviceable underwear might have felt ridiculous if Dante hadn’t held her stare steady in his. She tried not to make a sound as he traced her breasts, her arms, the sides of her neck, and then her cheeks and her lips with the end of the whip.

  “Admirable control,” he whispered.

  “Thank you.”

  But he was determined to test that control, and she whimpered when the flexible tongue moved over her belly and sought entry between her legs. Just feeling it there was incredible. She had to have more.

  “Lie down,” he instructed.

  She folded onto rather than lay on the bed of hay. It was a relief to unlock her knees and just collapse, formless and weak with no thought other than the pursuit of pleasure.

  “Draw back your legs, and hold them wide for me.”

  Having gone this far, there could be no holding back now. She did as he asked with a shuddering sigh of anticipation.

  Whatever she had imagined was far exceeded by the touch of the whip. Dante wielded it with the utmost delicacy, over and around, until he finally settled it in place against the side of her painfully engorged clitoris. He applied a little more pressure, and then he agitated the straining core of sensation to a steady and dependable rhythm, watching her closely as he did so, until finally, he murmured, “Now…”

  She shattered into sensation that went on and on and on. She was aware of nothing else, other than the great waves of pleasure gripping her. She had no idea how loud she cried out, or for how long. She only knew that when the world slowly returned to focus, she was in Dante’s arms.

  “Better?” His expression was faintly amused as he laid her down on the hay.

  She reached for him.

  “I didn’t say you could move,” he warned coolly, pulling back. “I haven’t punished you yet for your disobedience.”

  There were uses for a dandy brush she had never imagined, Rose realized as she rested comfortably across Dante’s knee. Applied lightly to the buttocks in arousing sweeps, it woke them up, ready to accept whatever came next. And when what came next was a flurry of sharp slaps, there was only one thing left to do.

  “Fuck!” Dante dropped her unceremoniously on the hay as he sprang to his feet. “You bit me?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said mildly. “Is this pleasure all one-sided?”

  “Pleasure?” Dante narrowed his eyes as he examined the small damp patch on his jeans.

  “You haven’t heard of love bites?”

  “You clearly haven’t heard of restraint.” With an incredulous laugh, he shook his head. “Do you sharpen your teeth at night?”

  “No. But I can if you’d like me to.”

  A faint smile continued to play around his mouth as he admitted, “I love having you bite me.”

  Rose’s smiled bro
adened. “That’s what I thought. You’re a very lucky man. Think what might have happened if I’d had you in my mouth.”

  Pulling back his head, Dante looked at her. “Are you suggesting I should be happy that you only took a chunk out of my thigh?”

  “You should be delighted,” she corrected him. “And relieved.”

  For a tense few seconds, neither of them said a word, and then Dante laughed, and she laughed too. “Touché, senorita,” he murmured against her mouth as he hauled her to her feet.

  She’d never felt so close to him, and her heart sang with reckless love. Cupping her buttocks, Dante pulled her onto his erection, and even through the thick placket of his jeans, the sensation was incredible.

  “I want to fuck,” he said bluntly.

  “You said that in the kitchen. Did you have anyone in mind?”

  “Only you.”

  The intensity with which he said this surprised her.

  They came together like a clap of thunder. Neither of them was interested in foreplay, and neither was remotely submissive. They didn’t speak. There was no need for words when they knew what they wanted, and their goal was fixed. The only sound was Rose’s hectic breathing as her fingers worked frantically to release the buckle on Dante’s belt. If he said the wrong thing, she could lose it right now.

  “No!” she warned, seeing the glint of intent in his eyes.

  Naturally, it pleased him to ignore her.

  He supported her when she lost it, her body working hungrily against his. When she finally quieted, he laid her down with care on the hay. Dante was as vital to her existence as the air they shared. He was her world, she thought as he moved over her. Faces touching, they moved as one until, lifting her in his arms, he stood and rammed her against the wall. “Every way there is,” he promised as he dipped at the knees to take her again.

  “Oh yes, please,” she wailed as pleasure consumed her.

  Driving his mouth down on hers, Dante did exactly as directed.

  “Where are you taking me?” Rose asked him much later.

  “To bed—to my bed,” he said as he swung her into his arms. She looked surprised. “Did you have someone else’s bed in mind?” he asked as he strode toward the exit.

  “Definitely not,” she assured him as he unlocked the door and shouldered his way out.

  He smiled down at her. “All I want to do is fuck you.”

  “I think I get that.”

  “Until you fall asleep in my arms,” he explained. “Until we wake up together tomorrow morning.”

  He’d sounded fiercer than he’d intended, and Rose was silent quite some time. He’d crossed the yard, and carried her up to the path to the front entrance of his hacienda before he looked at her properly again. The tears in her eyes shocked him. He hadn’t planned to upset her. He didn’t want to evoke any type of emotion in Rose, other than passion and hunger for sex. He firmly believed he couldn’t change who he was.

  “You can put me down,” she said as they entered the house.

  “No need.” She felt as light as a feather as he jogged up the stairs.

  “You’re in a strange mood today,” she said. “I heard it’s your birthday tomorrow.” And then she did something that nearly broke him. Reaching up, she traced his cheek. “That must be a difficult anniversary for you.”

  He ground his jaw and made no reply. He should have known Rose wouldn’t leave it. “Your birthday is also the anniversary of your mother’s death,” she said gently.

  “Stop now,” he warned.

  “I don’t want to upset you. I just want you to know I understand.”

  “Accept I’m a lost cause, and enjoy this for what it is,” he advised.

  “But, what is it, Dante?”

  “Very good sex.” He hardened his heart to the expression in Rose’s eyes, and, kicking off his boots, he joined her on the bed.

  ~~o0o~~

  Dante was in the shower before she got a chance to look around. She threw on his top like a dress. She was hungry for clues about the man she was coming to care for far too much. Did anyone get close to him, she wondered? Dante’s bedroom was like the rest of his impressive house in that it was a quality build full of quality items. She’d expect nothing less of a billionaire. Decorated in rich earth tones, there were fabulous ethnic hangings in jewel colors on the walls, and curiosities from a number of countries, which she guessed had been collected over a period of time, possibly some even inherited from his mother. The burnished oak floors felt warm beneath her feet, and all in all, she was surprised to discover that Dante’s home had a distinctly cozy feel.

  A burst of laughter from the party drifted in through the window. Drawn outside onto the impressive balcony, she listened to the night rhythm of cicadas and the sound of drapes ruffling in the breeze. The scent of honeysuckle and roses rising from the exquisitely groomed formal gardens was strong. Illuminated by subtle lighting, these were punctuated by beautiful water features that twinkled in the moonlight. Leaning over the polished wood balustrade, she tried to assess the size of his home and concluded it was huge. Removed from the rest of the estate, rather like the man himself, Dante’s hacienda was vast and sprawling, with outbuildings adding to its size. It was a big place for one man, but Dante’s past had scarred him in some way, making it difficult for anyone to get close, Rose suspected. Returning inside, she examined her own situation, which was no better. Each time she thought they were growing close, Dante pulled back.

  And not much she could do about it, Rose concluded, pausing by a carved wooden chest to look at what she decided must be relics from his childhood. There was a crudely carved horse, and beside that, the photograph of a middle-aged man on horseback. She presumed it was Dante’s father with a very young Dante riding at his side. Dante looked wilder than the pony in the photographs—certainly in comparison to his straight-backed father, though they had the same eyes, she noticed when she picked up the photograph to study it more closely, and the same determined jaw.

  “Rose?”

  Her heart banged guiltily in her chest as Dante came back in to the bedroom. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.” She put the picture down. With just a small towel looped around his waist and another that he was rubbing his hair dry with, Dante was a sensational sight. It was hard to believe they’d been in bed together in the most intimate circumstances only a short time before. “It’s such a good photograph. I hope you don’t mind my looking at it.” She glanced around the room. “Do you have any of your mother?”

  She could have cut the atmosphere with a knife. To say Dante’s stare had cooled would be a mammoth understatement.

  “Let’s get one thing straight,” he said quietly. “You and I don’t have that type of relationship.”

  Her throat dried. “What do we have?”

  “I think you know.”

  “Good sex?” she queried, hurt beyond words.

  “Better than that,” Dante remarked, swinging the towel around his neck.

  Good sex was all they had. Why couldn’t she just accept it?

  Because it wasn’t and never would be enough, Rose concluded. Loss could only be dealt with gradually, one tiny step at a time, but Dante had had plenty of time to get over what he’d suffered as a child, and she hadn’t meant to offend him by talking about his mother. She’d also lost her mother at a very young age, but she hadn’t allowed that fact to blight her life.

  “Why can’t you say what you feel for once?” she challenged. “Is this cold, loveless existence what your mother would want for you?”

  “I have no idea what she’d want.”

  Dante frowned as he made an angry gesture, but she refused to be put off. Six brothers had inured her to moods and thunderstorms threatening. “Maybe it’s time to stop living in the past?”

  “Maybe it’s time you stopped making observations about events you know nothing about.”

  Tense and furious, he’d come to loom over her. No one talked about his parents, she guessed,
or if they did, it would be with the utmost reverence, preferably out of Dante’s earshot.

  “Stop feeling sorry for yourself.” She met his angry stare head-on. “Try losing that chip on your shoulder. Don’t hug the past. You’ve grown since then. Start living like a man who’s got everything most people can only dream about. I didn’t know my mother, in case you didn’t read my CV, but I don’t let that rule my life.”

  “Don’t you?” he challenged

  “I live as I believe my mother wanted me to live,” she assured him, “which means fully and freely, with my eyes wide open, ready to embrace whatever comes my way. But that doesn’t mean I have to embrace whatever crap comes along. I’m done with being your expert horse whisperer and a great fuck—everything except a human being with feelings, as far as you’re concerned. No! Don’t touch me!” she warned when Dante caught her beside the bed. “I don’t want to spend the night with you. I don’t want to fuck you. I don’t want to wake in your arms and feel like nothing more than a device you use to blank out memories that hurt you. I know you were bullied as child because of your mixed birth, and I know your stepmother persecuted you, but you’re not alone, Dante. Thousands of other people have suffered in the same way, and how many of them inherited a landmass the size of the UK? And what about the people who love you—people who’ve been loyal to your family for generations? How many of them are lucky enough to have a fraction of what you’ve got? Please don’t expect me to feel sorry for you, because I won’t. You’re welcome to your lonely life. I don’t want any part of it.”

  Her hands were jerky and trembling as she swiped up her clothes. After dragging his top off, she chucked it on the bed. She pulled on her own clothes and then stormed across the room. Dante stopped her at the door. She stared angrily at his hand on her arm, and with her usual bluntness, demanded, “Are you going to let me go, or do I have to knee you in the balls?”

  Chapter Eleven

 

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