by Lynda Chance
She didn’t have to tug for long as she saw Marco coming up behind the man who held her in his grip—a Marco with an expression on his face like she’d never seen before. He swung Mona in George’s direction and released her as soon as the other man had a steadying hold on his wife. Immediately, Marco put a detaining hand on Kennedy’s arm and hissed in a voice furious and loud enough that Natalie very much feared Mrs. Lancaster couldn’t have failed to hear. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
“Calm down, Donati—I’m going to dance with—the new girl.”
“Not happening—hands off—Now.”
Natalie stood frozen as Mathew Kennedy’s eyes narrowed on Marco and then turned to look at her—really look at her—with a question in his eyes. But he released her hand and turned back to Marco. “Hands off?”
Marco ignored his question and reached around and encapsulated Natalie’s wrist and swung her behind him, holding her completely out of sight of Mathew Kennedy. Marco looked past him and focused on the Lancasters. “Goodnight. It was good seeing you again. Mona—you look lovely as always.”
With that, he swung around and began exiting the room, all but dragging Natalie with him.
Within moments, she was led to the waiting car and ushered into the backseat with Marco, the privacy screen once again drawn up, providing an enclosure for them, away from the driver. She scrambled to the far side of the seat, and busied herself with the seatbelt as Marco stared out of his window, his fingers tapping against his forehead as if in deep thought—or pain.
The car slipped away from the curb. “Who was that man?”
“Nobody.” His voice was terse.
“While you were on the dance floor he said—something about—sharing—women. What did he mean?”
His head turned and his eyes fell sharply on hers. “Nothing—don’t worry about him. Put it out of your mind. He’s nobody—nobody who will ever get close to you again.”
“Marco, you didn’t hear him. You weren’t on the receiving end of his touch. I—I can’t get mixed up in anything—anything—I’m having a really bad feeling in my stomach right now. Sharing—”
He cut off her rambling words when his hand lifted and wrapped around her wrist. “Natalie—shut up and calm down.”
Her eyes held his for only a second as they welled with tears and she broke contact, looking away from him.
His grip tightened on her wrist and he pulled her arm in a bid for her attention. She raised her eyes to his once more. When he spoke, his voice was rough. “Understand this—I’ll never share you with anyone—ever. Not in a million fucking years. You’re mine—and we’re going to cement that agreement in about half an hour. After that—nobody will touch you—they might try—but they’ll live to regret it. So you need to put all that other shit from your mind. I’m not claiming I’ve been a boy scout all my life—but when it comes to you—somebody tries to touch you—I’ll murder them in cold blood.”
His words came to a halt and Natalie’s heartbeat thumped loudly through her chest as she took in his words and his eyes, blazing down into hers. He slowly released her hand and sat back in his seat, his face impassive once again.
The silence of the night intensified around them and Natalie tried to do as he said—put it out of her mind. But what had taken place had clearly upset Marco—and she didn’t like for him to be upset, even though she knew it wasn’t anything she had done. His words had been so vehement that they reassured her. She believed him completely. Reaching out, she touched his hand softly. She ran her fingers over the top of his hand in a small stroke that she hoped was soothing to him, a stroke like the ones she had used on his forehead when he’d had the headache.
She continued the small movements for a few seconds until suddenly, his hand twisted and grabbed hold of hers in an uncompromising grip. His head turned to her and his eyes looked deep into hers, swallowing her whole. His voice was rough when he spoke and almost seemed to be making a confession as well as asking for reassurance. “I didn’t like him touching you.”
Natalie tried to make out his features in the dark interior of the car. His confusion was upsetting to her; she knew he wasn’t blaming her—it was as if he was surprised at his own response and didn’t understand it.
She too was confused by the events of the night but she pushed them out of her head in her attempt to comfort him. “No,” she said softly. “I didn’t either.” He released his safety belt, and moved toward her, crowding her on the bench. His hands went to either side of her face and he gently twisted her in his direction. His eyes locked on hers for an agonizing second before his mouth fell to hers.
He kissed her repeatedly, his tongue plunging in and out, in a rhythm she was beginning to crave. His lips left hers just long enough to breathe deeply. “You’re so sweet. So sweet.” His mouth moved to her ear and his hand encapsulated a breast and squeezed firmly. “How could I have been so lucky to find you?” Natalie heard the fevered, whispered words before his lips tugged on her earlobe and she forgot everything but his arms around her.
His mouth returned to hers, and their breathing became frantic. She lifted her arms up and began to wrap them around his head, but he was pushing away from her.
She felt the warmth leave her as he moved back to his seat, but before a feeling of loss could be registered, she realized they were pulling up to his building.
She followed him up in a daze, and when they entered the penthouse, she didn’t have a moment to adjust or to think. As the elevator doors whished closed, he swept her up in his arms and carried her through to his bedroom.
Dropping her to her feet, his hands landed on her dress and lifted it over her head and tossed it away, leaving her in nothing but her satin briefs and high-heels. She experienced a jolt to her head like a shot of whiskey and when he stepped back and began ripping off his jacket and tie, all the while staring down at her, she desperately tried not to cover her naked breasts. She slid her hands down her thighs and gripped the tops of her legs, searching for support as she watched him strip from his shoes, pants and boxer briefs.
He removed his cufflinks and began unbuttoning his shirt, his last piece of clothing, while flecks of red highlighted his cheekbones as he continued to watch her. “How experienced are you?” he asked in a throaty rasp.
She licked her lips and through her nervousness, attempted a sultry, playful smile to lighten the extremely tense atmosphere. “Extremely, you?”
His hand shot out and landed on her back, at her waist, and brought her torso against his with such speed and force that she gasped out loud and stumbled against him. With his other hand, he caressed her from nape to butt cheek and up again. She began shaking violently and all thoughts of playful and sultry fled her brain.
The trembling didn’t get past him. “Extremely, huh?” His voice was hard, rough, without a trace of humor in it.
Her feet wobbled on her heels and in a bid for stability, her hands landed on his naked chest. His shirt was open, hanging down his sides, and his erection jutted out between them in a violent testament to the need echoed in the lines of sexual tension bracketing his mouth. She quivered and took a deep, sustaining breath. “What do you want me to say, Marco? I’m not a virgin.”
“I want you to tell me if you’re on contraceptives—or if I should use a condom?”
“Yes—please. A condom.” Her hands slid up from his chest to his neck.
“Okay, I’ll take care of it—and I’m going to go ahead and apologize in advance—there will be plenty of times in the future when I’ll go slow—take proper care the way I should—but right now—it’s not going to happen. I’ve been aching for you since the moment we met.”
His hand lifted and smoothed the hair away from her forehead and held her eyes with his while he pushed his fingers through her hair and clenched his hand in her scalp. His mouth tightened and his words hardened, “Right now—I’m going to fuck you hard and fast and you’re going to stay still and let me do it.”
>
Her heart stopped beating completely before it began pumping blood again in a cadence so violent that it almost scared her. Her legs trembled and she was completely speechless, hanging in the circle of his arms, waiting for his next move. All she could manage were rough breaths and not passing out entirely as desire, hard and swift, enveloped her entire being from head to toe.
His next move came quickly.
He began walking her backwards toward the bed, one sure foot at a time, and when she stumbled, his hands landed on her hips and he bodily picked her up, her legs dangling as he propelled her backwards. When the back of her knees hit the bed, he dropped her to the edge into a sitting position and pushed her legs apart as far as they would go. He stood between her legs and studied her, looking down at her. With one hand on her chin, he lifted her face and began kissing her, hard and relentlessly, his mouth opening wide and brutally over hers as he began stroking her with his tongue.
Her neck was bent back at an awkward angle to accommodate his height, and she whimpered her discomfort in the back of her throat.
He heard it, changed his tactic, and pushed her down on the bed to a supine position as he followed her down, his hand finding the softness between her thighs covered only by the remaining scrap of silk.
The barrier was too much for him, and he backed up and ripped her silk briefs off her legs, pushing them down first one leg, and then the other. Natalie immediately felt the loss of the small degree of protection her panties had afforded, and suddenly, with her legs spread wide open to him, the difference in their sexual experience was glaringly obvious to her. With a need for modesty that she couldn’t control, her hand slid down to cover herself between her legs as she felt the heat of a blush steal over her cheeks.
He stood between her legs and steadily watched her. His dark eyes narrowed and impaled her, but there was no way that Natalie could read the thoughts in his head. His gaze was hard, moving from her hot cheeks, down to her breasts that she feared were inadequate, and then to her hand where it trembled as it covered her mound.
His stare was bold—as if it contained ownership—and as he assessed her, Natalie felt he could see everything on the inside of her as well as the outside.
He allowed her hand to remain covering herself, but she knew it wasn’t going to last.
She was right.
The moment of slow inspection over, he turned away from her, reached for a condom from the bedside table and sheathed himself with it in seconds. Pushing back between her thighs, he brushed her hand away from her body and lifted her legs and hooked them around his back in a move that was both forceful and precise. He brought himself to the entrance of her soft, wet opening and pushed the broad head of his penis to the quivering heat that awaited him.
He paused as a bead of sweat slipped down the side of his face and reached for her wrists. Manacling them in his hands, he fastened them over her head to the bed and stared down into her eyes. “I’ve never wanted anything as much as I want you.” He circled his hips, rotated them against her and slipped an inch inside of her.
Her eyes flared both from the stretching sensation and the shock of his words and she began to pant in response as she waited for his further intrusion. His hands bit into her wrists with a heavy, forceful clasp that was all-consuming, all-powerful. Her heart beat a vicious tattoo at his display of strength and control, and a wild spiral of desire mixed with trepidation spread through her veins. She took a deep, sustaining breath and pushed against him slightly, testing the strength he was using.
His nostrils flared and he sank another threatening inch inside while he held her eyes. “You trying to get away from me?” he growled through bared teeth in a voice thickened with lust.
“No,” she said on an exhaled breath, relaxing her arms back against the bed where he held them in his unyielding grip.
He surged all the way inside with a clean, forceful thrust that made her gasp. Shock reverberated through her as she tried to adjust. His eyes held hers while he stayed still, and a look lit his features that resembled a cross between pure satisfaction and unadulterated relief. “You’re never getting away from me.”
Natalie was drowning in a mixture of emotions and sexual heat unlike anything she’d ever felt before. She felt completely stretched, and the pleasure it induced was beyond anything she’d ever experienced in her life. She pushed her pelvis against him, dying for his thrusts—yet daring to defy him at the same time, feeling a need for some small measure of self-preservation, to show her independence. “I don’t belong to you.”
He pulled out of her body and slammed back in with a dagger-like pump of his hips that reverberated through her. “You think now’s a good time to antagonize me?” he punched out in a menacing hiss.
She lifted her hips and begged for another stroke. “I’m not trying to antagonize you,” she lied on a pant.
He began pumping at her steadily, sliding in and out with repeated thrusts of his hips, and his mouth fell to hers, silencing her with his tongue. He began stroking her in tandem with the kisses he was giving her, long, deep and forceful.
Natalie felt herself slipping down the tunnel toward orgasm. Her body began to tighten and she became almost frantic, her head turning from him and breaking free from his mouth as she gasped for air.
One sinewy hand released her wrist and gripped her by the chin, moving her face so she was looking directly at him. They breathed together raggedly while his strokes became more rigid. Her lids began to slide down, but his fingers bit into her chin. “Open them.”
She tried to focus on him as the sensations became too strong to fight against. His eyes were mesmerizing, full of tortured impatience and incendiary heat. She began sinking, her body tightening, as his strokes became deeper, stronger, as he watched her and wouldn’t let her out from under his spell.
She began to tip over the edge as a kaleidoscope of colors rushed through her brain and ecstasy held her in its grip. She just felt her eyes close as he pushed against her roughly, one pump, two pumps, three pumps—and then he was groaning, deep from his diaphragm and she knew he was following her over the edge.
He held still inside her as they both slowly began to come down, their bodies relaxing from the grip that their combined orgasms had induced. His head fell to her shoulder, and slowly, their breathing evened out.
They stayed that way for only a matter of minutes until he lifted his head and looked at her.
His dark eyes impaled hers and his voice when he spoke was a menacing threat that intoxicated her with its smoldering heat. “You’re mine—all mine. Nobody else gets to touch you. This tight little pussy,” he pushed against her, “is mine.” His hand left her chin and moved to grip a breast where he squeezed it, just short of pain. “These perfect little tits—they’re mine.” His callused fingers pinched her nipple. “These nipples—mine.” His thumb began stroking back and forth and her nipple pebbled under his touch as his words and manner brought out an exquisite need to submit yet again.
“You understand, Natalie? There are two rules in our—” He hesitated. “Agreement. I take care of you—total care—and you belong to me, body and soul. Outside of bed—you want something—you’ll have it. Inside this bedroom—or anywhere else sex is involved—I say ‘jump’ and your pretty little lips need to beg me to tell you ‘how high.’ Got that?”
She swallowed deeply, his demands bringing a barrage of emotions to the surface that enticed her to acquiesce. “Do I—do I have a choice?”
“Do you want a choice?”
The memory of her so recent orgasm washed over her as she looked back into his beautiful, compelling eyes. “Will you always make me feel the way you just did?”
His gaze was direct. Determined. “Yes.”
“Then, no,” she whispered, “I don’t think I do.”
****
A week later, Natalie sat across from Marco in an upscale, though subdued, restaurant in an old brownstone building on the west end of town. Her finger made
a circular motion over the rim of her wineglass as she looked around the room and tried to take her mind off the heat radiating directly at her from across the table. “It’s beautiful in here.” She cleared her throat softly and bit her bottom lip, turning back to face him. “Really beautiful.”
He watched her from across the table as if they were the only two people in the world. She had his sole attention and it was unnerving. “What do you like so much about it?” he questioned as he glanced around the room and then back to her.
“Oh—everything. I love the aged wood—the stone hearth,” her eyes slid around the room and she continued, “the textures—the brocade of these chairs, the bronze fixtures—just the whole warmth of the room. It’s so—so peaceful.” Her eyes landed back on him and her lips curved into a tiny smile. “Yes. Peaceful.”
Marco watched Natalie from across the table and the thought that she was peaceful came to his mind. He’d never really thought of her as such—other descriptive words came to mind when he was with her—and when he was not. Sexy, beautiful—totally fuckable. But peaceful? But that’s what she was. When he was with her, or when he thought about her waiting for him in his penthouse, he admitted to himself that he usually felt only a few things. Extreme horniness, extreme satisfaction, or extreme peace.
He lifted her fingers from her wineglass before her fidgeting caused a mess. He entwined them with his and looked around the room again before coming back to study her as realization hit him. “You don’t like the penthouse.” It was a statement—not a question.
A blush stole over cheeks and she averted her eyes from his. “It’s fine,” she said softly.
“Holy shit. You actually hate it. Why didn’t you say anything?”
“It’s your home, Marco, not mine. And I don’t like to be rude—or hurt your feelings.”
His mouth flattened. “It’s your home, Natalie. And why would it hurt my feelings? I didn’t have anything to do with the—” He paused as if searching for an unknown term and she broke in.