by Lucy Monroe
He tossed it away.
“My mother would be very annoyed if she saw you treating clothes the way you do.” Especially high-end designer ones.
“Your mother has no place in our bedroom.”
“It’s not our bedroom.”
“You belong to me. This room belongs to you. Therefore, it is ours.”
She couldn’t push a denial of his claim through her lips. There was too much truth to it.
It was almost scary, but she wasn’t afraid.
In fact, that part of her that had felt alone in the world since her mother’s marriage to Perry Saltzman warmed with an inexplicable sense of belonging.
“She’s still my mother,” was all Chanel could think to say.
“And she always will be, but her views and opinions about you are skewed by grief and a lack of understanding. Therefore, they have no place in our life together.”
“We don’t have a life together,” she said with more vehemence than she felt.
But it was insane, this instant connection, his claim he planned a future with her. It just wasn’t real. Couldn’t be.
“We do. It starts with this.” His hands reached behind her to unhook her bra clasp, sight unseen.
Her nipples, already tightened into hard points from his earlier manipulations, contracted further from the cooled air brushing across them.
There was no stifling the shiver that went through her in response to the extra stimulation.
His smile was predatory. “You have very sensitive breasts.”
“Nipples,” she couldn’t help correcting. It wasn’t her entire boob responding, was it?
He brushed his fingertips along the side of her breast, sliding forward, but not touching the nipple.
Desire coiled low in her belly, her body arching toward his.
He did it again. “Very responsive.”
“You don’t like to be wrong, do you?” she asked in a voice that hitched every other syllable with her gasping breaths.
“It is a rare occurrence.”
“Arrogant.”
“Certain.”
“Same thing.”
“It is not.” Then he kissed her, preventing any more words.
It was a sneaky way to end an argument, but she couldn’t make herself mind. Not when it felt so wonderful. It might be only their lips that were connected, but she felt as if he was touching her to the very depths of her soul.
He pulled back, their breath coming in harsh gasps between them. “One thing left.”
“What?” she asked, nothing but his lips making any sense in that moment.
“Your panties.”
Were surplus to requirements. She got the picture but found she was hopeless in the face of doing something about it.
It was okay, though. His long masculine fingers were sliding between her hips and the silk and then it was being tugged down, baring the last bit of her to him.
“There will be nothing between us,” he growled, as if he could read her mind.
She looked up at him, their gazes locking, and what she saw in his left her in no doubt he wasn’t just talking about clothing.
He’d pushed her in the living room, demanding she acknowledge her own pleasure, her own desires, this crazy thing happening between them.
He was going to push her further now.
“It’s just sex,” she claimed with a desperate attempt to believe her own words.
“We are making love, locking our lives together.”
“This isn’t real.”
“It is very real.”
“Please…”
He cupped her face, the move one she was becoming quite familiar with and incidentally learning to love. “Please, what?”
“Just tonight? Can it just be about tonight?”
He lowered his head until their lips almost brushed. “No.”
This time, she kissed him. Couldn’t help herself and was glad she hadn’t when he took control and drew forth a response from her body that shouldn’t have been possible. Not after she’d just climaxed.
Only it was.
It was as if they were connected by live electric current, energizing, transforming every synapse in its wake, so that her body was uniquely tuned to him. The way that big body blanketed hers, his hardness rubbing against the sensitive curls at the apex of her thighs indicated he was being tuned to the same frequency.
A frequency she thought would rule her body’s responses for the rest of her life.
And if she could believe his words, it would.
The kiss pulled her out of time, suspending them in an intimacy that had no limits, not in hours and minutes, or in emotional connection.
It was beyond anything she thought two people could feel together.
His hands were everywhere, bringing pleasure, teaching her body his touch, making that indescribable pleasure spiral tighter and tighter inside her again.
She touched him, too, letting her fingertips learn his body, and just doing that gave her a level of delight she’d never known. She could caress this man, touch his naked skin and he wanted it, wanted her touch. Not just any woman’s. Hers.
An empty ache started, making her body restless for what it had never known.
As if he knew exactly what she needed, he nudged her thighs apart and adjusted his body so the head of his erection pressed against the opening to her body. However, he made no move to enter her.
The moment felt so momentous that tears washed into her eyes and trickled down her temples. He broke the kiss, lifting his head, his expression knowing.
He touched the wetness, wiping at the tears with one finger. “It is not just about tonight.”
“It’s not supposed to be this big.”
“You have waited twenty-nine years, krýxitka.”
She wasn’t a baby, not by any stretch, but having him call her one didn’t feel wrong. “But women don’t, anymore.”
“You had your reasons.”
“I want this.”
“I know.”
“You do, too.”
“Yes.”
“With me,” she confirmed, maybe needing a little more reassurance than she’d realized.
“Only you from this point forward.”
“You do not believe in infidelity?” A lot of businessmen thought it was their right when they flew out of town to leave their wedding ring in the bedside drawer of their hotel rooms.
Or so she’d read. Honestly, as awful as Perry might be toward Chanel, she couldn’t imagine him cheating on her mother. It was one of the reasons she respected him, even if she didn’t like the business shark.
She could never respect a man who didn’t understand and adhere to the true meaning of loyalty and faithfulness.
“It is too damaging to everyone involved.” There was something about Demyan’s tone that said he knew exactly what he was talking about.
She would have asked about it, but right now all she could really focus on was how much she needed him inside her. “It’s time.”
“Not yet.”
Unexpected anger welled up. “You’re not going to get bossy about this. I’m not begging.”
“I don’t want you begging. Tonight.”
“But—”
He smiled down at her, indulgence and tenderness she wasn’t even sure he was aware of glowing in his dark gaze. “You are a virgin. A certain amount of preparation will make the difference between a beautiful experience and one you never want to have to remember.”
“You make it sound so dire.”
“It can be.”
“Much experience deflowering virgins?” she asked with sarcasm and maybe just a hint of jealousy.
“Tonight is not the time for discussing past sexual encounters.”
“That isn’t what you said earlier.”
His jaw hardened but he said, “Fine. She was young. I was young. It was a disaster.”
“Did you love her?”
“Not even a little.”
/>
“Did she love you?”
“No.” No doubt there.
“You decided to figure out how to fix the problem.” She could so see him doing that.
She might not know everything there was to about this man, but some of his basic characteristics she understood very well.
He nodded even as he shifted again so there was room for his hand to get between them. A single finger gently rubbed along her wet folds.
“That feels good,” she whispered.
“It is supposed to.”
The touch moved up, circling her clitoris. It felt so delicious she gasped with the pleasure of it.
He kissed her and then lifted his head. “Touching you is such a pleasure. You hide none of your responses from me.”
“Am I supposed to?”
“No.” Very definite. Unquestionably vehement.
“You’re kind of a control freak in bed, aren’t you?”
“Giving you pleasure takes a lot of concentration. Why would you try to hinder my efforts by lying to me?”
“I never…” She gasped as his fingers moved a certain way. “Didn’t say I would.”
“Never?” he asked.
She could have accused him of taking unfair advantage, but really? It wouldn’t have mattered if he’d asked her in the middle of the street standing ten feet away.
Her answer to that question would always be the same. “Never.”
“Thank you.” Demyan continued to touch her until she was moving restlessly beneath him.
“Please…” She wasn’t even sure what she was asking for.
Intercourse? Maybe, but what she really wanted was resolution to the storm building inside her and Chanel didn’t really care how she got it.
Even so, she was shocked when he shifted down her body, his intention clear. She’d read about this. Of course she had. Her ex-boyfriend had even wanted to do it to her, but he’d told her she’d have to shave her hair off first.
She’d refused.
Demyan didn’t seem in the least put off by the damp curls between her legs, his tongue going with unerring accuracy right to where his finger had been.
She cried out, her hips coming off the bed. His mouth followed, his ministrations with lips and tongue never pausing.
This was oral sex? This intimate kiss that led to feeling so close to someone else that there was nothing embarrassing about it?
She always thought it would bother her to have a man’s mouth there. She hadn’t refused to shave her nether region just because she was a prude back then.
Only it didn’t bother her. Not at all.
It felt so good, so perfect.
Demyan’s fingers came back to play, this time with one of them sliding just inside her as his tongue swirled over her most sensitive spot. He moved the finger in and out, going a little deeper each time until he pressed gently against her body’s barrier.
It didn’t hurt; it was not too much pressure, but it would be different when he was inside her. Wouldn’t it?
He would have to break through the barrier then. With his longer-than-average erection. That’s what had to happen next.
Only, he didn’t seem to have the script, because he kept licking, sucking and nibbling at her clitoris until she was on the verge of climax. His finger inside her continued sliding in and out of her channel, pressing just a little bit harder against the thin barrier every few times.
His other hand came up to play with her breasts and tease at her nipples, increasing the sensations below by a factor of ten. It was incredible. Amazing.
And she felt that precipice draw closer and closer. She didn’t think she was supposed to climax again before they were joined, but she didn’t worry about it. He knew what he was doing and wouldn’t let her.
Only, he didn’t seem concerned when she warned him it was getting to be too much. He only renewed his efforts, sucking harder on her clitoris and nipping it ever so gently with his teeth.
Without warning, her body splintered apart in glorious pleasure again, this time so intense she couldn’t even get enough air to scream. He didn’t stop the intimate kiss, but he gentled it, bringing her prolonged ecstasy that went on and on even as his finger pressed more insistently against that thin membrane of flesh inside.
Until, as she floated on a cloud of sensual bliss, she felt the sharp sting of pain and realized he’d broken through the barrier of her body. With his finger.
“What? Why?” she asked, the hazy peace cracking a little.
“It hurts less.” He gently withdrew his finger before placing a single soft kiss against her nether lips.
It felt like a benediction.
He moved off her and she saw him grab a corner of the sheet from the floor to wipe his face and hand before he rejoined her on the bed.
Demyan pulled her body into his still-very-aroused one, his expression very satisfied. “You are beautiful in your passion, Chanel.”
“We… Aren’t you going to…”
“Oh, yes. But only when you are ready to begin building toward climax again.”
She didn’t know what he meant, but he showed her, after cuddling her and telling her how amazing and lovely she was. After his touch and nearness once again began to draw forth need to be joined with him.
When he finally pressed inside her, she cried for the second time that night. He didn’t look in the least worried he’d hurt her, though. In fact, his expression was one of understanding overlaying utter male satisfaction.
She didn’t begrudge him one iota of it, either.
He might have had a debacle with his first virgin, but he’d made this one’s initiation into intimacy unbelievably good.
Once she started to move against him, his control slipped its leash and his passion turned harsh and exciting. She screamed her pleasure this time even as his body pounded into hers, and his shout was loud enough to make her ears ring.
Afterward he was quiet, his expression impossible to read. “You’ll want a shower.”
“Couldn’t we shower together?” she asked.
“Your bathroom isn’t meant for shared intimacies.”
She hadn’t been propositioning him, couldn’t believe he thought she had any energy left for that, but she didn’t say so.
While she was in the shower she tried to go over what had happened, but couldn’t figure out why he’d withdrawn and wondered if he’d even still be there when she came out.
CHAPTER FIVE
HE WAS, THOUGH, and he’d remade the bed with fresh sheets.
“Thank you,” she said, feeling unsure.
“We will be more comfortable sleeping on clean bedding.”
That one small word washed through her like life-giving oxygen. We. He’d said we.
Before she could remark on it, or say anything at all, he started toward the bathroom. “I’ll have my shower now. Get in bed.”
“You said you were only bossy in the bedroom.”
He stopped at the doorway to the bath and looked at her over his shoulder. “We are in the bedroom.”
“Why don’t you just admit you have oldest-child syndrome?”
His expression turned somber, though she didn’t understand why. “Noted.”
She would have teased that wasn’t an admission, but Demyan disappeared into the bathroom.
Chanel didn’t understand what was going on with him, but he wasn’t leaving. She’d take that as a good sign.
Did he regret the implications toward the future he’d made before they had sex? Was he realizing now that he’d gotten his rocks off how ludicrous they’d been?
Maybe he thought she’d try to hold him to his words as if he’d made promises. She wouldn’t.
Perhaps she needed to tell him that.
She crossed the room, but when she tried the door to the bath, it was locked.
She let her hand drop away. Okay, then.
Maybe she just needed to go to bed. Any talking could happen in the morning.
After
only a few moments’ deliberation, she opted to wear pajamas to bed. The mint-green jersey knit wasn’t exactly sexy, but it was comfortable.
She was still awake when he joined her some indeterminate time later.
He didn’t pause before pulling her into his arms, though he made a sound of surprise when his hands encountered fabric. “Why are you wearing this?”
Because she’d needed a barrier between them, a level of armor, even if it was just her favorite pair of pj’s. “Why not?” she answered rather than admit that, though.
“Because I prefer naked skin and I think you do, too.”
“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never slept with another person,” she replied a tad acerbically.
“Perhaps it is for the best tonight. You will be too sore tomorrow if we make love again in the night.”
“Oh.” He still wanted her?
That was good, right?
“Do not sound so disappointed. We will make love again. Many times.”
As promises for the future went, that was one she could live with. “I’m glad.”
They were silent for several seconds before she offered, “Thank you for making my first time so special.”
“I lost control.” And there it was.
What was bothering him. She knew it.
“I liked it.”
“I could have hurt you.”
“But you didn’t and I think it would have hurt me if you hadn’t lost yourself just as badly as I did.”
“Yes?” he asked, as if the concept was foreign to him.
“Absolutely.”
“I am very glad to hear it.” He’d turned out the light, but she could still hear the smile in his voice.
“Go to sleep.”
“Your wish is my command.”
She would have said something sarcastic about that blatant fabrication, but her mouth didn’t want to work and she slipped into sleep, comforted by their banter.
*
Chanel was astonished by how easily she grew used to sleeping with someone else.
Not to the sex, though. She wasn’t sure she’d ever grow used to the level of pleasure she and Demyan found in one another’s bodies.
He was bossy in bed, just like he’d told her, but it was all targeted toward her enjoyment. Every directive, every withholding of one instant gratification for something more was so that her final satisfaction was so incredibly overwhelming, she lost her mind with it.