He ran his hands down her back, soothing her at the same time as he found the zip on her dress and gently tugged it down. She sighed as the fabric loosened around her, her mouth on his becoming even more hungry, her hands going to the buttons on his shirt and fumbling with them. But he was faster, easing the material off her shoulders. Then he touched her, stroking his hands beneath her dress and over her skin, and yes, she was exactly as silky and soft as he’d expected. She gasped against his mouth, shuddering delightfully under his touch as he found the catch of her bra and undid it. A sigh escaped her and she gave a little moan as he trailed his fingers down the length of her spine. There was no hesitation to her, no alarm. It was as if she trusted him implicitly, and that made another unfamiliar sensation tighten in his chest.
You have been nothing but hard and rude to her. Yet she trusts you...
How strange that that should...affect him, especially when he accepted the trust of a nation as his due. But there was something about her that awoke the protector in him. Even though he didn’t concern himself with other people’s feelings, he wanted to keep her safe, to give her the pleasure she deserved. A pleasure to remember when she left.
Keep your distance.
Ah, but this was a single sexual encounter. Making sure it was good for one inexperienced nun wouldn’t compromise that. He could afford to take care.
So he controlled the hunger in himself, put a leash on it. And he merely sat with her in his lap, kissing her lazily, stroking her back up and down, getting her used to his touch. She took what he gave her and then shifted, her hands moving again to his shirt and fumbling with the buttons once more.
It was difficult to hold back, to let her undo those buttons and just sit there as she uncovered him with shaking hands. But he didn’t want to frighten her and, since he was the one with the better control, he let her set the pace initially. Plus, it felt almost too good when she finally managed to undo his shirt, to have her cool fingers on his skin, tracing the muscles of his chest and abdomen. She looked mesmerised by him and he let her touch, let her explore. But then she leaned forward and kissed his throat, her mouth hot, and the control he thought he had handled suddenly dissolved.
He shifted one hand into her hair and pulled her gently away. He had to redirect this otherwise it might be over before it even began.
‘Lift your arms for me,’ he ordered quietly.
She didn’t hesitate, obeying without a word, allowing him to ease her dress up and over her head, taking her bra with it so she was sitting on him, facing him, naked but for a pair of white cotton briefs.
His breath caught. She was so lovely. Her hair was a skein of pale gold lying across one shoulder, her eyes darkening into tarnished silver. The flush that had tinged her cheeks did indeed go all the way down, across her neck and chest, over the most perfect round breasts he had ever seen, and sweet pink nipples, ready for his touch. She didn’t cover herself and she didn’t look shocked as he stared at her, only looked back at him as if she liked him looking at her as much as he liked looking.
He slid one hand to the small of her back, spreading his palm out, cradling her as he urged her forward once more, tasting the sweetness of her mouth. Then he eased his other hand to her hip, trailing his fingers up her silky warm skin, feeling her shiver, and he went higher and higher, until he found the curve of one full breast.
She gasped against his mouth, her body arching as he cupped her breast gently, then she moaned as he circled her nipple with his thumb, making her tremble.
‘Oh...’ The word was soft with wonderment and surprised delight. ‘Oh...sire...’
‘Call me by my name,’ he murmured, rubbing his thumb over the sensitive tip of her breast, making her shudder yet again. ‘I’m not a king right now.’
She sighed, arching into his hand, holding back nothing from him. ‘Adonis...’ His name sounded like a prayer, and he wanted to hear her say it again, so he ran his thumb over her nipple once more. And she obliged him, his name coming out sweetly husky.
The sound shivered through him and he couldn’t remember the last time a woman had called him that, with no deference. Only a plea, a cry for more.
So he gave it to her, stroking her breast, toying gently with her nipple as he kissed her, exploring her mouth. And then, when she was panting, he eased her back across his arm and then it was his turn to put his lips to her throat, to taste the salty-sweet flavour of her skin.
She trembled, her pulse frantic against his tongue. But he held her still, going slowly as he trailed kisses over the delicate architecture of her collarbones, then further down, to the swell of those beautiful breasts, tracing the curves with his lips, before moving on to one hard nipple. He teased it, circling it with his tongue, which made her gasp his name yet again. Then he took it into his mouth, holding her as he sucked gently on it.
A moan escaped her, throaty and soft, and her hands lifted to his shoulders, gripping on to him. ‘Adonis...oh...please...’
She smelled like sex and she tasted like heaven, and she was so warm, so soft and sweet. And he hadn’t realised those were things he’d been craving, not until now.
His life was so very cold, nothing but hard edges and sharp decisions, and she felt like the antithesis of that. He wanted more, to spend longer tasting every inch of her delectable body, to take his time, because these moments they had together wouldn’t last.
He could only give her now. But that was probably a good thing. Already he was so hard he ached, and the way she was giving herself to him, nothing held back and so trusting... It could become addictive if he let it.
So, you’d better not let it, had you?
Oh, he wouldn’t, no fear of that. She might push his physical control, but that was all. She didn’t affect any other part of him, least of all the distance he kept between himself and the world.
This was sex. Nothing more.
He switched his attention to her other breast, sliding one hand from her hip down to her thigh and stroking gently, before moving inward and up, then between.
She went very still as his fingers brushed over the damp fabric of her knickers, stroking the heat and softness behind the cotton, and he heard her breath escape in a wild rush.
‘Oh, yes,’ she gasped, her whole body suddenly shaking. ‘Oh, yes, please...’
There was such delight in her voice and so much desperation that he tightened his arm around her, drawing her in close so her bare breasts were against his chest, her silky skin and hard little nipples rubbing against him. Then he stretched out his fingers between her thighs, stroking her over the material of her knickers, making her gasp and squirm and wriggle against him.
‘Do you want more?’ he demanded, his own voice so rough it didn’t sound like his. ‘Is that what you want? More of me touching you?’
‘Yes,’ she gasped. ‘Please...yes...’
So he hooked one finger into the fabric and pulled it aside, baring her. Then he stroked his fingertips through the soft little nest of curls between her thighs, the folds of her sex hot and wet just for him.
She moaned, her hands gripping tight to his shoulders, as if she would fall if she let go, her breathing coming in short pants. Her hips twisted, following his hand as he caressed her, teasing and stroking the most sensitive parts of her.
He’d thought she might be modest or perhaps a little shy, but she wasn’t. Like a person dying of heat exhaustion in the desert finally finding an oasis, she threw herself into it, clothes and all.
It was incredibly gratifying.
He found himself kissing her lovely mouth harder and with more demand despite the fact that he’d told himself he was going to take this slow. And then he was testing the entrance to her body gently, pushing one finger into her slickness, feeling the incredible heat of her sex close around him.
She shuddered like a tree in a hurricane, her mouth turning as hu
ngry and as demanding as he was, her hips shifting on his lap as if she was trying to find some relief. But there would be no relief for her. None but what he gave her.
‘Adonis,’ she said hoarsely, her fingers digging hard into his shoulders. ‘Please... I need... I can’t...’
He wanted to push her down onto the couch cushions, take her hard and immediately. But she wasn’t experienced and this was new to her, and he didn’t like the thought of taking her roughly, with no niceties at all. He wanted this to be good for her. He wanted her to remember it. Remember him.
Why should you care about that?
He didn’t know. She wasn’t a politician or one of his council. Not one of his generals or a fellow head of state. She was only one little nun with whom he happened to have some chemistry and there was no need at all for her to remember him.
But he wanted her to.
She was shaking in his arms now, moaning against his mouth, so he kept his hand between her thighs, his finger sliding in a rhythm that made her shake even harder. Then he pressed down on the most sensitive part of her with his thumb, just a small brush.
And he held her as she convulsed against him, a cry of pleasure escaping as the orgasm washed over her.
He let her sit there for a moment, running one hand absently up and down her back to ease her down, barely aware he was even doing it. It was painful having her in his lap because he was so hard. But he didn’t move. There was something sweet about holding her in his arms, about the way she turned her hot face into his neck, her breath warm on his skin.
Then quite suddenly she sat up, her silvery eyes staring fixedly at him, a crease between her fair brows. She didn’t seem concerned that she was sitting there basically naked while he was mostly fully dressed.
‘Please tell me there’s more,’ she said, her voice scratchy.
And he found himself smiling, predatory and hungry.
‘Oh, yes,’ he murmured, impatient now. ‘There’s more.’ Then he moved, taking her down onto the couch beneath him. ‘There’s a lot more.’
CHAPTER SIX
ANNA FELT AS if she was outside herself. As if she’d changed in some way, become someone else. Someone who didn’t have to be quiet and good. Someone who didn’t have to make sure she was grateful all the time for any scrap of attention that came her way.
She’d become a woman made entirely out of heat and sensation, a wanton who demanded attention and got it. Who demanded pleasure and got it.
Who had the entire focus of the most beautiful, most exciting, most powerful man in the world centred on her and her pleasure.
She lay on the couch, the leather cool against her back, with Adonis’s big, hard body stretched above her, and there was nowhere on earth she wanted to be right now other than where she was, beneath him.
She’d had no conception of what sex could be like. What touch could mean. Had no idea that she wouldn’t feel shy and she wouldn’t feel modest when he took her dress off. When he touched her breasts or the place where she was most needy, between her thighs. All she’d been conscious of was how intense the sensations were, how incredible it felt when he touched her. When that piercing blue gaze raked over her. And it wasn’t cold any more, but blazing hot, electric.
And it was she who’d done that to him. It was she who’d melted the ice. No one special, no one all that different. Just a girl nobody had wanted.
But he wanted her. This king.
Except she couldn’t see the icy, controlled king any more. The man above her was hungry and powerful, and as predatory as the lion he wore on his back. A man who had that intense, laser focus centred only on one thing—her.
There was more, of course there was more. And when he came to his knees between her thighs and pulled off her knickers, all she felt was relief. Because the need inside her was building again. He’d quenched it before, with his magic hands and his hot mouth, but just looking at him, just imagining what was going to happen, had the breath catching in her throat and desire sharpening between her thighs.
But not only her own pleasure. She was hungry to touch him too. Hungry to give him the same pleasure he was giving her, to share with him what she was feeling.
He was so cold. A mountain made of ice and stone, towering over the rest of the world. Powerful and remote, and very dangerous. Yet alone. She could sense that in him, because it was that loneliness that lay at the heart of her too. Whether he knew it or not, whether he was even aware of it, he felt it, because the evidence was there in the hunger in his eyes. As if he recognised the heat inside of her and wanted it for himself.
A mountain was lonely. A mountain was on its own.
She stared up at him as he looked down at her, his hungry gaze following the line of her naked body, zeroing in between her thighs.
Did he have anyone to keep him company? Did he have anyone at all who wanted to climb to the peak and sit beside him in the cold? Or was he a peak too dangerous to scale? There were avalanches and storms, fissures and crevasses. You could get hurt so very easily climbing a peak like that one and maybe that was how he liked it. Maybe he didn’t want anyone near. Maybe he was happy being remote.
Her heart squeezed unexpectedly tight at the thought. No, it wasn’t true. It wasn’t. She would see that there was heat at the heart of him, there was passion and fire, and it was easy enough to spot now.
His eyes blazed as he got rid of his shirt and his hands dropped to the buckle of his belt, undoing it and pulling it off. His movements were slow, deliberate, but his jaw was tight. Tension rolled off him.
He was holding himself back, keeping that fire contained. And perhaps it was a tease for them both, or perhaps he didn’t want to hurt her, because it was her first time after all.
But she didn’t need him to. She was different now because he’d changed her. He’d turned her into someone else; she wasn’t a nun any more. She was the woman who was going to set the fire inside him free.
Anna sat up, running her hands up his powerful thighs as he knelt there, watching him as he undid the fastenings of his trousers.
‘Do you like what you see, little nun?’ His voice was so deep, so dark. Like the sound of a glacier moving. Except this glacier wasn’t cold any more. ‘Do you want to touch me?’
‘Yes.’ She slid her hands over his hips, feeling the smoothness and heat of his bare skin, tracing the hard, chiselled lines of his stomach. ‘Yes, so much.’ And she did. She loved how powerful and strong he was. Loved how hot his skin was and how hard he felt under her palms.
Yes, he was a mountain. And she wanted to climb him.
Not that he gave her any opportunity.
Quickly, he divested himself of the rest of his clothes—far too quickly for her liking—but he didn’t listen to her protests, gave her no time to look at him. One minute he was there with his trousers on, the next she was being pushed back on the couch cushions and he was over her again, and this time he was naked.
And he was glorious. A powerful machine of muscle and bone overlain with taut, velvety olive skin. He held himself above her, his biceps flexing with apparently no effort, and his strength excited her for reasons she couldn’t explain.
She lifted her hands, ran her fingertips over him, stroking him, watching the piercing blue of his eyes get hotter. Then she glanced down and her breath caught.
He was long and thick, and when he noticed her look, he grabbed one of her hands and pushed it down between them, curling her fingers around him.
Anna gave a little gasp of delight. She’d had no idea that the most masculine part of a man would feel so smooth, like velvet. Or so hot. She’d had no idea he’d feel so hard either—not that she’d ever thought about it. Maybe if she had, she might have been more interested in sex. Certainly, if she’d known he’d feel like this she would have been.
Then again, the thought of touching any other man so intima
tely didn’t have the same effect, so maybe it was just Adonis she wanted to touch.
‘You look concerned,’ he murmured roughly. ‘Are you nervous?’
‘No,’ she said with absolute truth. ‘I was just amazed at how good you feel.’ She studied him, watching the lines of his face tighten as she squeezed him experimentally. ‘Does that hurt? Or do you like me doing that?’
‘No, it doesn’t hurt. And yes, I like you doing that.’
‘Oh. In that case—’
But he didn’t let her finish, giving her a long, hard kiss, before pulling back again. She opened her mouth to protest, but then from somewhere he produced a silver packet and ripped it open. Contraception, she realised. He dealt with it then stretched himself over her, lazy as the lion he was.
‘Now, then,’ he said, his voice thick with sensual heat. ‘Where were we? Ah, yes...’ His hips shifted between her thighs, the head of his sex nudging at hers. Then he slid his hands beneath her, cupping her bottom, tilting her. His gaze held hers, level and intense. ‘Are you ready for me, Anna?’
‘Yes.’ Excitement crowded in her throat, so intense she could barely force the word out.
He didn’t wait. As soon as the word had left her lips, his hips flexed and he was pushing into her, a deep, slow thrust that tore another gasp from her throat. But it wasn’t painful. No, strangely, despite what she’d heard, there was no pain at all. A vague kind of pull but then nothing but the feeling of her flesh parting for him, stretching around him. And it didn’t feel like an invasion so much as a welcoming.
As if she was welcoming him home.
She trembled slightly at the immensity of the feeling that was spreading out through her chest. Of having him so close, inside her, part of her. It made her feel honoured, in a strange way, that he would allow this kind of intimacy.
The Most Powerful Of Kings (Mills & Boon Modern) (The Royal House of Axios, Book 2) Page 8