She understood the frantic movement of his hips. She felt the same raw greed that was consuming him. She needed more...so much more.
Her back was flattened hard against the wall as he worked magic between her thighs, and she felt the toe-curling pressure rise within her once again. His breath was heavy against her neck, his tongue tasting her and nipping her skin as she twisted her hands greedily in his hair.
All of a sudden she was pulled from the wall and carried a few steps. Expecting to be thrown down on the bed, she bit her lip as her back came in contact with the smooth surface of a wooden desk, the intimate contact between them unbroken. His eyes darkened at the look of surprise on her face as he moved within her again, this time with his hands on her breasts, his fingers on the tight peaks driving her even wilder.
‘That’s it...come for me again,’ he purred, his eyes watching her as she writhed with every thrust.
She shook her head. It was right within her reach...she was at breaking point...she just couldn’t seem to get high enough. As though reading her thoughts, he slipped one finger between their bodies, caressing her where the fire burned hottest.
Light exploded behind her eyelids as release crashed upon her. His thrusts came faster and harder, his mouth lowering to her breasts, devouring them as he sought his own release. She shattered into a million pieces just as he groaned, his hands gripping her hips as his orgasm took over.
His thrusts slowed, her own spasms eased off, and she vaguely felt the weight of his head resting upon her bare breasts. Neither of them made a sound for a moment, letting their breathing return to normal. She felt as though her body would collapse if she tried to move any time soon.
He moved to drop a kiss between her breasts before raising up to look at her. Deep green eyes seared into hers with a heat so intense it might have burnt through metal.
‘I thought we might have at least made it to a bed this time,’ he breathed, running his fingers slowly from her breasts to her stomach as he stood up straight. She shivered in response and he smiled. A slow, predatory smile of complete satisfaction.
Despite the molten heat still thrumming in her veins, she felt suddenly aware that she was very naked. She sat up on the desk and slid herself down to her feet, feeling the heat of his body press up against her. This was insane—they had barely finished and he was kissing her again, running his hands up and down her body. She had never been savoured like this before...as if her skin was irresistible.
‘I can’t think straight,’ he growled, leaning down and pressing his forehead to hers. ‘I can’t stop touching you.’
They stood still for a moment, just looking at each other. Leo grabbed her by the hand and led her slowly into the en-suite bathroom. They stood in the shower stall and he turned the water on full blast, fumbling with the nozzle until the temperature adjusted from chilly to pleasantly warm.
He pulled her into his arms in one movement, the warm water cascading down over them, and Dara sighed and moulded her body to his. The sensation of their hot wet skin fused together was sinfully erotic.
He grabbed a bottle of shampoo and massaged it first into his own hair, then hers. His fingers loosened her already relaxed muscles. She hadn’t thought his touch could get any more amazing. She had been wrong. His soapy hands moved over every inch of her skin, his fingers leaving a trail of fire in their wake.
His hands tilted her head back into the spray and the water rinsed the soap from her hair and body as he continued to trail soft kisses down her neck. She moved against him, feeling the smooth hot thrust of his erection slide against her stomach.
‘You know, there’s something I’ve never done...’ She tried to keep her voice steady and confident as the image of what she was about to suggest flooded her senses.
‘Mmm...? And what might that be?’ He continued to kiss her neck, strong fingers kneading the soft flesh of her bottom as they ground against each other under the spray.
She broke the contact between them, releasing herself from his hold and meeting his eyes intensely. ‘Sit down,’ she commanded, gesturing to the long seat that lined the shower wall.
His brows rose but he obeyed, lowering his tall lean frame onto the seat with ease. She looked down at him and thought this had to be the single most erotic image she had ever seen. His dark wet skin was in sharp contrast with the white tiles of the shower wall. His hair was wet and curled dangerously around his features. She towered over him in this position, and felt strangely aroused by the sensation of sensual power she held over such a man.
Getting down on her knees, she moved between his legs and watched his eyes widen in surprise. She placed her hands on his thighs and felt the muscles bunch in response. She wrapped her fingers around the long hard length of him and took a moment to simply slide her hand up over the smooth silky skin.
She’d never been allowed to do this before. And the sensation felt strangely forbidden. As his breathing quickened she leaned forward and tasted him with the tip of her tongue. He arched his back in response and made a sharp hissing sound.
‘Is this good for you?’ she asked uncertainly.
His laugh was half choked. ‘Oh, it’s more than good.’
He twined his fingers through her hair, applying pressure to the back of her head as she took him in deeper. He moaned in response and she moved a little faster, rejoicing when he groaned louder.
His arms reached down and pulled her up suddenly, lifting her until she slid onto his lap with ease. She twined her fingers around his neck and felt him enter her quickly.
‘Do you see what you do to me?’ he groaned as she began to move over him.
Being on top gave her the same sensation of being completely in power, completely in control of their pleasure. This alone was enough to topple her over the edge. She moved her hips forward and back, moaning when he grabbed her hips greedily and began to urge her on even faster.
‘Don’t stop,’ he murmured, running his hands over her bottom and up her back, kissing a fevered path along her neck with lips that seemed to be made of molten lava.
Dara felt her orgasm building once more, and she felt the frantic beating of his heart that signalled his own. She slowed her pace, feeling him starting to lose control. One final sweep of her hips had them both tumbling over the edge and she collapsed on top of him as the tremors racked her body.
* * *
Dara woke to an unknown sound intruding on her dreams. It took her a moment to take in her unfamiliar surroundings, and then she looked to find she was alone in the large bed.
The sheets were tangled from the events of the night before. They had made love countless times throughout the night. Leo’s appetite was insatiable. The gauze curtains around the queen-size bed swayed in the breeze—she could smell oranges and salt from the surf.
She felt wickedly satisfied and smiled, giving her hips a little wiggle as she got out of bed to look out of the windows at the waves crashing against the cliffs below the castle turrets. She wouldn’t let herself regret last night. She felt happy and attractive and sensual again, and that was nothing to be ashamed of. He had given her a wonderful gift without even realising it.
As she opened the bedroom door the smell of acrid smoke burnt her nostrils and she instinctively launched into a run, bare feet clipping down the marble tiles. She reached the kitchen just in time to see Leo drop a steaming pot of coffee into the sink with a guttural oath.
‘Is everything okay?’ she asked, taking in the coffee grounds spilled across the counter and down onto the floor. It was as though a small child had decided to play chef.
‘No, everything is not okay. This is the second time it’s burnt,’ he growled. ‘Apparently Maria doesn’t work until noon. What’s the point in hiring a housekeeper if she’s not here for breakfast?’
His brow furrowed as he emptied the contents of the p
ot down the drain and peered inside the lid.
Dara stepped up beside him and peered in herself. The bottom of the steel pot was coated with a layer of thick burnt coffee grounds. He had put the coffee and the water in the wrong compartments.
‘Have you ever made your own coffee?’
His frown deepened. ‘It can’t be that difficult, surely?’
‘You really are a pampered playboy.’ She chuckled, taking the ruined pot and setting it to steep in cold water.
‘You seem very well rested this morning.’ He smiled, stepping behind her.
‘I don’t see how. We didn’t sleep very much.’
She tried to remain casual, unsure of what the protocol was this morning. Would he expect her to leave straight away after breakfast? There was no real need for her to stay any longer—she could arrange the renovations over the phone easily.
She felt very insecure all of a sudden.
‘I’ve never been accused of being pampered before.’ He laughed, turning her around and kissing her mouth deeply. He moaned in approval, running his hands past her waist to caress her bottom. ‘Good morning...’ He smiled.
‘Good morning to you too.’ Dara felt a little less tense, but was still unsure of her place here.
She watched as he moved to sit down lazily at the breakfast bar.
‘I wouldn’t get too comfortable there—I’m going to show you how to make coffee. I’m not doing it for you.’
She showed him step by step how to fill the base of the pot with fresh water and pack the coffee tight into the basket above. With a look of thoroughly male triumph he breathed in the aroma as dark liquid began to rise into the top chamber.
Dara busied herself readying a tray of food and plates to take out onto the terrace, where they sat at the outdoor breakfast table, a large canopy shielding them from the morning sun.
Leo set down two cups of steaming coffee onto the table.
‘Congratulations. You have just become self-sufficient.’ She feigned applause as he stacked his plate with some of delicious brioche.
‘I have always been self-sufficient,’ he argued, taking a bite of his food. ‘I simply prefer to pay people to serve me my morning coffee.’
‘Paying people to care for you is not the same thing as being self-sufficient. You just wind up relying on your lifestyle to keep you afloat.’
He stopped eating and leaned forward, regarding her over the rim of his coffee cup. ‘What about you, Dara? Who do you rely on?’
She thought for a moment then shrugged, ‘Honestly? No one. I like to feel independent, so I do most things for myself.’
‘Does your family support your choice to live so far away?’
Dara took a bite of grapefruit, taking the chance to mull over his question in her mind. Her family was the most unsupportive unit she had ever known, but she wasn’t about to bare her soul to him about that. She thought of her father and his stoic chauvinistic logic. If it was up to him she would be cooking breakfast for a husband and children right now, not advancing her career.
A vision of small dark-haired children at a table suddenly came to her mind. Their father was looking on indulgently. A father with suspiciously familiar green eyes. She shook her head, chasing away the thoughts. Family was not important to her. Not any more. She preferred not to dwell on things she would never have.
She looked up from her fruit and realised he was still waiting for her to answer. ‘My family aren’t particularly close. Maybe that’s a bad thing to some people—the great Italian family mindset and all. But it fulfils me to focus on my career. My parents send a card at Christmas and birthdays. I do the same. It works for us.’ She shrugged.
‘I’m not judging you, believe me. I’m the last person to lecture anyone about family values. I don’t even own a home.’
‘Oh? I presumed you had a collection of luxury penthouse apartments dotted across the world.’
‘I own plenty of real estate, of course. Paris, Barcelona, New York—you name it. Luxury apartments, mostly. But that’s not the same as having somewhere you can call home.’
He sat back comfortably in his seat, looking out at the view of the ocean below them.
She was suddenly quite curious. ‘If you don’t own a home, then where do you live?’
‘I don’t live anywhere in particular. I stay wherever my work takes me. It’s practical.’ He finished the last of his coffee, setting the cup down on the table and sitting back again in the chair.
Dara shrugged, also looking out across the view. She sensed the matter ran a little deeper than that. A man didn’t live in hotel rooms all year round just because it was ‘practical’.
Leo stood up, deciding to deflect the conversation by gathering Dara into his arms.
She placed a hand on his chest, holding him away from her lips.
‘Leo, what are we doing here?’ she asked quietly.
‘We are two adults who are about to go back upstairs to have fantastic sex for the rest of the afternoon,’ he said confidently, moving the strap of her nightgown down her shoulder smoothly.
‘I mean, what am I doing here? I have a job in Syracuse...I have clients. And you have your own company to run. This is madness.’
It was madness—they both knew it. But he had never felt so enthralled by an affair before. He was wealthy enough to have people run his affairs for a few days with minimum fuss while he indulged in a little leisure time. And Dara had already said that she could run her business remotely during low season.
After last night, the prospect of selling the castello and hurting Dara felt even more uncomfortable. But this wasn’t about feelings—it was about sex, and they both knew that.
‘I think we both know what we want, Dara. And I for one am prepared to take a few days away from reality to have it.’
‘You want me to stay here? With you?’
‘I want you in my bed for as many nights as it takes for us to tire of each other.’
He leaned down to kiss her neck, feeling his groin tighten as she moaned in response.
‘I think that can be arranged,’ she said breathlessly.
‘I think this is my favourite deal of all.’
Leo smiled seductively, taking her by the hand and leading her back to the bedroom.
CHAPTER SEVEN
THE NEXT COUPLE of days passed in a haze of sexual fog. Most of their time was spent in the bedroom—they ventured out only for nourishment and a bout of fresh air.
The fresh air had consisted of late-night walk on the beach, when he’d proceeded to make love to her slowly on the old wooden dock, with the sea water lapping around them.
Naturally Dara still found time to arrange some inspections for the structural work that needed to be done. And a removal team was organised for that morning, to ensure none of the antique furniture would be damaged during the building work.
Mountains of furniture now sat in the grand hall, cluttering up the space. Leo came to a stop in the hall just as a group of workmen finished carrying an elegant cherrywood vanity table down the stairs.
‘What do you think you’re doing with that?’ he bellowed, feeling hot rage course through him at the sight of their filthy grease-smeared hands.
The men had been laughing at some private joke, but at the sound of his voice they faltered, letting one side of the table fall to the tiles with a sharp thud. Leo watched with horror as a long crack snaked through the precious glass mirror.
He felt fear grip his throat and moved with lightning-fast speed, squaring up to one of the workmen dangerously. ‘Do you realise what you’ve done?’ he shouted.
A memory clawed at his mind... Her eyes were black as night and filled with rage as she towered over him...
He barely registered Dara’s hands on his shirtsleeve, p
ulling him back from the cowering man.
‘Leo. He’s just doing his job,’ she pleaded, her eyes wide with worry.
He towered over her. ‘Nothing is to be moved from the master rooms—you hear me? Leave it the way it is or this whole thing is over.’
She stood back from him, confusion and hurt clouding her eyes. ‘But the work covers the whole castle, Leo. All this furniture has been ruined with water damage...it’s worthless now.’
It had always been worthless to him, he thought harshly, remembering his mother’s reflection in the shiny glass. Everything about that room was toxic.
But it needed to be left alone or it would seep out and drag him under all over again.
‘Just put it back,’ he gritted, turning on his heel and stalking out through the door.
His breath came in deep bursts as he strode away from the courtyard. The cypress trees shielded him from the sun as he followed the stone path down the side of the hill. This whole place was one big black spot in his memory—a black hole of loneliness and despair. Dara thought he hated it because of the memory of death. She didn’t understand that the memories of life could be far worse.
He didn’t know where he was going until he heard the crunch of stone disappear and realised he was heading across the formal gardens to the large stone family crypt. The structure was an original part of the castle, restored by his grandfather in an effort to make some sort of tradition for his family. He needed to go in—needed to remind himself of who he was. He wasn’t that lonely boy any more.
His feet echoed on the marble steps as he reached the tall black iron-clad door. It was never locked, always open for mourners to come and pay their respects. Resting his fingers on the cold metal, he took a deep breath and pushed.
The door swung forward easily, cold air rushing forward like the fingers of death on his face. And just like that he was engulfed by the dark damp smell of his childhood.
‘Leonardo, you must learn to be silent,’ she had commanded him, pushing her soft hand against his head until he was inside the darkness of the bad place.
Resisting the Sicilian Playboy (Winner of 2014 So You Think You Can Write) Page 11