by Maisey Yates
He was not a man who had ever thought he would be aroused by taking a woman’s virginity, but he could not deny the fact that in this instance he was. It called to something purely primitive inside of him, something he’d not been aware he possessed.
Or perhaps, that was simply Allegra.
She had always done things to him. Had always turned the tides inside him, had always elicited responses that no one else ever had.
Perhaps that was why he gloried in being her first. Because, at least then he could be certain that this unique response wasn’t just inside of him. That he did the same to her.
He had purposed in himself that he would not do this. He had purposed to stand strong. But the dark, raging creature inside him was in control now. And he had no inclination to try to wrench it back.
Instead, he held on to her even more tightly, gripping her chin, holding her steady as he continued to allow the fire between them to consume them both.
He released his hold on her waist, grabbing hold of her hair. She whimpered, leaning in to him even more deeply, either because she was desperate for him or because he was pulling too hard. He didn’t know. He wasn’t certain he cared.
He didn’t know who he was with Allegra. Which was a strange thing, because of all the women he could have chosen to be with, he knew this one. Had known her since she was a schoolgirl. Why she should make both herself and him feel like strangers was a mystery to him.
Suddenly, he was desperate. Desperate to see everything he had not seen on the first night they were together.
They had coupled quickly in a corridor. Neither of them had undressed. He hadn’t had the chance to get a full view of her beautiful curves. Hadn’t been able to press her bare body against his.
He could wait no longer. He reached around, gripping the zipper tab on her dress and pulling it down, letting it fall to her feet.
That left her in nothing more than a lacy bra and a matching pair of panties. He stood back for a moment admiring her perfect, golden curves. She was the sort of fantasy men started wars over. Evidenced by the war raging inside his body. The knowledge that he should leave her alone. That he shouldn’t destroy her with his touch any more than he already had. Wasn’t her pregnancy—the fact that she now had to spend two years of her life bound to him in marriage, and the rest of her life bound to him because they shared a child—enough of a reminder that he altered everything he touched in irreparable ways?
But he already knew that the darkness in him was going to win tonight. That destructive, terrible thing that told him he could possess, even if he couldn’t tend. The insidious voice that had convinced him that marrying Sylvia would be fine. He needed only to marry her, and the rest would sort itself out.
But no, he had destroyed her. As he’d done his parents. She had needed more and more, and he had been less and less able to meet the needs. Because she had wanted access to parts of him that were dead.
And now Allegra. Allegra, who had agreed to marry him. Allegra, who was pregnant with his child.
But why stop now? After all, the damage was already done, wasn’t it? How much worse could he possibly make it?
He almost laughed. That was a dangerous question. Because he had seen the worst. He had lived through the worst. Worse, he had brought it on other people.
But right now, out here on the beach, with no photographers, no witnesses but the stars above, he simply couldn’t find it in him to be noble.
“Take the rest off,” he commanded, his voice rough. If he touched her, he wouldn’t be able to go slowly enough to take them off without tearing them. Or perhaps, he wouldn’t take them off at all. Perhaps, he would just sweep her panties to the side and plunge inside her, whether she was ready or not.
He gritted his teeth, battling against that fantasy. Slowly, Allegra began to remove her bra, revealing the perfect curve of her breasts, her tightened nipples, signaling her arousal. Then, she pushed her panties down and his focus went to the perfect, dark triangle at the apex of her thighs.
How he wanted her. Wanted to bury his face between her legs, bury himself inside her, lose himself completely.
“You’re looking at me like you want to eat me,” she said.
He couldn’t tell. Couldn’t tell if it was an innocent comment, or if she was well aware of the double meaning.
“Because I do,” he growled, leaning forward and pressing his lips to the curve of her neck, sucking on her skin. She gasped, and he gloried in the sound. Then, he moved down, tasting the sweet curve of her breast before sliding his tongue over her nipple. He sucked the tightened bud deeply into his mouth, then scraped his teeth over it before moving to the next.
She threaded her fingers through his hair, held his head against her as he repeated the motion again, and again.
He gripped her hips, steadying her as he traced a line down the center of her soft stomach with the tip of his tongue. His lips hovered above where he ached to taste her most, and he felt her trying to move away from him. He tightened his hold, preventing her from escaping.
“Mine,” he said on a growl as he leaned in, his tongue gliding through her slick folds.
“Cristian,” she breathed his name, for once a prayer on her lips instead of a curse.
He tasted her even more deeply, glorying in the way she trembled beneath his touch. In the way she sobbed his name, broken, helpless. Reveled in every piece of this that he should deny. Her scent, her sound, the very fact that she was Allegra and there was no denying it.
That realization was a deep tug of longing inside of him that never seemed to end. A bottomless well of need. For her. Allegra. As though it had existed inside him for as long as he’d drawn breath. Not acknowledged. Not satisfied. Until now.
She clung to his shoulders as he pushed her, further, faster, harder. He could feel her beginning to unravel, could feel all of her control spinning into nothing as he slid his tongue over that sensitive bundle of nerves. And then, on a hoarse cry, she gave it all up completely, gave it to him, her pleasure, her release, and he let it wash over him in a wave. His reward more than hers.
Then he slid his hands down her smooth thighs, to her knees, tugging lightly until they buckled, drawing her down onto the ground, her legs wrapped around his waist, her damp core brushing against the head of his arousal.
And he knew then that he was a selfish bastard. While she still shook and moaned from her release, he pushed inside her, the tight clasp of her body around his almost enough to send him over the edge. But he wasn’t ready to go. Not yet. He moved his hands to the rounded curve of her ass, holding her tightly as he thrust up inside her, pulling her down more firmly onto him with his every movement.
She arched back, and he leaned forward, accepting the offering of those beautiful breasts as his due, sliding his tongue over her sensitized flesh. She wrapped her arms around him, held tightly to him as he worked to drive them both completely mad.
How had he never seen it before? That this was what lurked beneath the surface of his every word exchanged with Allegra? That this was why he felt like his skin was on fire every time she was near him. It made sense now. A great many things made sense when he was buried as deep as he could possibly be inside of this woman. They made sense, but they didn’t work. They weren’t sustainable. They weren’t right. And at the moment, he didn’t care.
He was lost in this. In her. In Allegra. No other woman had tempted him since the death of his wife, and in truth, he didn’t recall any woman ever tempting him before that. Either he wanted a woman, or he didn’t. But Allegra fell in some strange category that was all her own. He wanted her. He wanted her with everything he had inside him, just as much as he wanted to turn away from it. He needed her, like someone needed breath. Or, more accurately a fix from a drug. It would offer nothing but a temporary high that would lead to chains, withdrawal and suffering after. But it didn’t lessen the addiction to know that.
In the moment, he felt it was worth all the pain after. For this
high. This moment. When his orgasm broke over him, it was roaring, howling blackness, a perfect punch of pleasure and pain that wiped out everything else that surrounded it. Leveling every other thought, every other emotion, every other sensation and rendering it dust.
When he came back to himself, he realized that she had reached her own peak, her nails digging into his skin as she cried out her pleasure, her internal muscles pulsing around him, forcing another wave of pleasure to wash over him.
It took a while for him to realize that the sound of crashing surf wasn’t in his head. That it was the waves on the shore. That he was on his knees in the sand in front of his house, and Allegra was straddling him. He traced a line of her delicate spine, slid his hands through her hair, keeping her from looking away, even as she attempted to avoid his gaze. “Don’t,” he commanded.
“Don’t what?” she asked, her voice soft.
“Don’t hide from me.” She lifted her gaze, meeting his own. He slid his thumb over the edge of her top lip. “You don’t have your mask tonight.”
“It was easier when I did,” she said. “Easier when you abandoned me afterward.”
“Why is this so difficult?”
“Because. I...” She swallowed hard, moving away from him, the cold air hitting him like a shock when she removed her body from his. “I need to go inside.”
She stood up, completely naked, and walked back into the house.
He watched her, her silhouette thrown into sharp relief by the glow from the house. He was entranced by her curves, even now.
He knew that he should allow her to have space. That’s what a decent man would do.
But Cristian Acosta was past the point of pretending he had ever been decent. And tonight, he had claimed Allegra. Which meant there was no turning back now.
* * *
Allegra was desperate for some privacy. For a shower. For a moment alone. That had been nothing like the sex in the hall.
Yes, it had been the same man, but it had been an entirely different experience. Knowing it was him, seeing his face the entire time, seeing his eyes...
She felt completely exposed. Because as intimate as it had been to witness him in that position, the most confronting part about it was knowing that he had seen her. That all of her vulnerabilities had been on show for him. Every deep, tender feeling that she didn’t want to examine.
She walked as quickly as she could up the stairs, trying to ignore the fact that she was naked. She went into the bedroom that she had claimed as her own earlier and through into the bathroom, turning on the shower. It was a glorious shower, with two showerheads, beautiful marble inside and a large window that she could just barely tell overlooked the ocean, thanks to the wash of pale moonlight glittering over the waves.
But she couldn’t really enjoy it now. Because she was simply desperate to get beneath the hot spray and wash some of her humiliation off her skin. To rinse some of the rawness down the drain.
She needed to be able to breathe. Needed to be able to think. And as long as she was anywhere near Cristian she wouldn’t be able to do either. There was something about him. Something that made her act completely out of character. Something that made her crazy. She didn’t want to know what it was. Didn’t want to know any of it.
Perhaps, the most confronting thing of all was finally being faced with just how very Cristian her mystery lover had been. The man at the masked ball could no longer be a separate entity in her mind. Not now that she had felt him inside her again. Not now that she had watched his face as he’d reached his peak. Not now that she was trembling all over and tingling with the aftereffects of not one, but two orgasms.
She squeezed her eyes shut tight, willing herself to cry, because at least that would do something to alleviate the pressure in her chest. Sadly, her eyes remained stubbornly dry. Even as the warm water cascaded over her skin.
“Allegra?”
The door to the bathroom opened, and in walked Cristian. Completely naked, and clearly unconcerned about his state of undress. She could not be so casual.
She couldn’t stop herself from staring. From studying him. He was the only naked man she had ever seen in person, and she found it captivating.
He was beautiful. His broad, muscular chest, his well-defined abs, lean hips with hard cuts in the side pointing down to the most masculine part of him.
She was seeing Cristian naked. Cristian Acosta. A man she had known almost half her life. Though, always in clothes. Always. She knew him naked now. Knew him inside of her.
The thought made her want to hide again. But she couldn’t hide, because he was here.
“Are you all right?” he asked, standing outside the glass shower, with, what she assumed, was as clear a view of her as she had of him.
“I just thought...”
“Thought you would wash me off your skin?” There was an edge to his tone that cut her deep.
“No, that isn’t it. I just needed a minute.”
“Then I shall take it with you.” He opened the shower door and got inside.
“I don’t think you quite understand. I needed a minute to myself,” she said, taking a step away from him.
“Why is that?”
“Because, you’re the only man I’ve ever had sex with. This is only the second time I’ve ever had sex. I feel... I feel a little bit disoriented.”
“You’re the only woman I’ve had sex with since Sylvia died. If anyone needs a minute it’s me.”
His words were strangely flat in the echoey room. “You... I... I am?”
“I have not been with another woman since she passed away. That night at the ballroom...”
She wasn’t sure how she felt about that. She supposed, if she had found out that Cristian went around having one-night stands with mysterious women all the time it would be its own kind of pain. But having to wonder if she was simply a result of him reaching the end of his celibacy rope wasn’t exactly pleasant.
“What happened? You simply lost your control?” She couldn’t keep the emotion out of her voice. That was just another reason she had wanted time alone.
“You say that as though it’s a simple thing. I suppose it is for some. To lose control. Something that happens periodically. But I do not. I don’t lose control, Allegra. Ever.” He took a step toward her, wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her up against him. His skin was slick, hot, and she felt herself responding to him immediately. “And around you... I question whether or not I ever had any to lose. If I have been lying to myself all this time. It is something else entirely.”
He moved his hand down the curve of her waist, to her hip, his large palm resting there, the weight comforting and disconcerting all at once.
“It is that simple. I know that you think you’re some sort of god, but you are just a man.” As she spoke the word, she extended her hand, brushed her fingertips over his hard chest, shivering as she felt that unique, male combination of hot skin and crisp hair.
She shouldn’t be touching him, not when she was trying to make a case for alone time. For needing space. But she found herself brushing her fingertips over his skin again. Suddenly, what he was saying about control made a little bit more sense. When it came to the two of them, she had to wonder if control even existed. Their behavior had transcended typical for both of them.
She didn’t even feel regretful about it. Couldn’t bring herself to. Here she was, ready to enter into a temporary marriage, pregnant with this man’s baby, this man that she could barely look in the eye, and she couldn’t even regret being with him.
“The fact that you find it so simple only reveals your inexperience,” he said, his voice husky. “You don’t know how uncommon this is. You don’t know what we are playing with.”
“Is it special?” She despised that needy note in her voice, hated just how transparent it was.
“It is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. But these things... These crazy, dark things, that grab hold of you inside and make you
behave more like an animal,” he said as he traced the line of her jaw with his fingertip, “they are rarely good. They might feel good for a moment, but they can only end in destruction.”
“You think we’re going to destroy each other?”
“I think we already have.”
Her heart thundered in her ears, echoing through her body. “Then I guess there’s nothing more to be afraid of, is there?”
He painted a compelling picture, one that suggested the damage had already been done. That the fact she was pregnant, the fact that they now had to enter into this farcical arrangement, was truly as bad as things could be. And if that was the case, why shouldn’t they continue on in the only part of this that seemed to bring them any pleasure? Why shouldn’t they indulge themselves?
That made her tremble. The idea of letting herself loose, giving in to everything that she desired was both intoxicating and terrifying.
Really, her entire life was that way. The door had always been unlocked. No one had ever truly been able to force her to do anything, and yet, she had always gone along in a lockstep for fear of pushing her parents away. For fear of putting a foot wrong. Even now, with Cristian, she had pulled away because she was so terrified that she might do something to reveal herself.
She wouldn’t even confess to herself what she might reveal.
She was such a terrified little creature. She was defined by it. By her need to always be in line, her need to always please, her need to never shock or appall.
But who cared if she did? That was the real question. She had ruined everything, Cristian was right. There was truly nowhere to go from here.
“If we’re already at rock bottom I suppose we might as well just see what else is down here,” she mused.
“If you can bring yourself to roll around down here with me,” he responded, holding her chin tight between his thumb and forefinger, his dark, fathomless eyes burning into hers.
“What’s happened to us?” she asked.