Page 135 of A Diamond Deal
‘No,’ she whispered, tormented by the strength of feelings that were rioting inside her as, for the first time in her life, waves of sensuality threatened to devour her. ‘Not slow.’
‘Slow,’ he said, leaning forward then and taking her earlobe in his mouth, the combination of his lips and warm breath sending her blood pressure skyrocketing, ‘can be very satisfying, believe me.’ He pulled back to look at her, then lifted his Scotch and drained it in one motion, before moving away to place his glass on a pale timber coffee table.
Her eyes followed the gesture, her body barely able to support its own weight. Which it didn’t need to, because he was back a moment later, eyes appraising her.
His hands moved slowly, to the soft silk of her dress, catching it at her hips and lifting it incrementally, so with each shift her skin seemed to catch fire. By the time he had it lifted to reveal her delicate lace thong and naked midriff, she was almost panting with a need to be completely naked.
She wondered if he realised how torturous it was, for him to be moving so slowly. The fabric rustled over her breasts, her nipples tingled in a way she had never known, and then, finally, he glided the dress over her head and dropped it to the floor.
She lifted the Scotch glass to her lips again, needing a burst of grounding reality, and took a single taste. It hit the back of her throat and then flamed all the way down, but she didn’t hate it. If anything, it added yet another dimension to this—standing naked in the middle of a room with a man she’d known for only a week, and had just married.
‘Are you ready?’ he asked, eyes raking her face then dropping lower to her breasts with unmistakably possessive heat.
She nodded, not even sure what she was agreeing to now, knowing only that she would do whatever he asked of her in that moment, if it meant being able to revel in the spark that was bursting between them.
With that single shift of her head, though, he closed the distance between them, his hand sliding into the lace of her thong, so she almost jumped out of her skin when his touch connected with her sex. His eyes held hers. Was that mockery she saw in their depths? Amusement?
She glanced away, embarrassed.
His other hand gripped her chin, drawing her gaze back to his. ‘Do not hide from me. Sex is raw and honest—it has to be. Don’t resist that.’
Her breath burned in her lungs with each inhalation. His finger shifted, and began to move, quickly, finding her most sensitive cluster of nerves and brushing it until she was on the brink of something mind-blowingly intense. Then, before she could surrender to it entirely, his fingers shifted again, this time sliding inside her moist core, breaching a space no man had ever touched, so she cried out at the feeling, the invasion, the welcome presence. He was not gentle, and she was glad. The last thing she wanted was to be treated with kid gloves. Besides, he’d told her he would stop if she asked him to—and no way was she going to do that.
Right when she felt as if her world were imploding all over again, he moved both hands to her exposed bottom and massaged her cheeks, fingers pressing hard into her flesh as his mouth dropped to her breast and sucked a nipple deep inside, so the assault on her senses was more overwhelming than she expected. Warm heat was pooling between her legs, the pressure of pleasure almost overtaking her.
‘Massimiliano,’ she cried out, his name now so familiar to her, so easy to say. ‘Please, God, please,’ she groaned, not even sure what she wanted or needed, knowing only that this felt so incredibly good, she wanted it never to end. He nudged his thigh between her legs, his thick, powerful thigh, and, acting on ancient, female instincts, she ground herself against him, needing the relief that only that kind of friction could bring. He moved his mouth to her other breast, and while he sucked it deep and hard, he moved one hand to the nipple he’d just tormented, gripping her breast, plucking at her sensitive mound until she was incandescent with heat and need.
‘When I fuck you, you’re going to come so hard,cara. It’s going to feel so good, for both of us,’ he murmured, moving his mouth to her ear, so the words hit her like a tsunami.
‘Yes, yes, yes,’ she promised, for how could she not? Everything about this man was addictive. No. Not this man. Sex. That was all. She was just learning what most people discovered at a younger age. She was a sexual being, and she’d denied herself this pleasure far too long.
‘Tell me what you want,’ he instructed, moving his stubbled jaw along her décolletage, then flicking one of her nipples with his tongue, before moving his mouth to hers, finally, and claiming it. He kissed her so hard she couldn’t think, much less answer his question. But when he broke away to stare down at her, his eyes glittering with dark determination, she shook her head.
‘I don’t know,’ she said, frustrated by her inability to verbalise the thousand currents of desire that were washing through her.
‘Do you like it when I touch you here?’ he asked, moving his hand between her legs. She dug her fingernails into his shoulder, nodding frantically.
‘I really do.’
‘Good girl,’ he said, so a shiver of intense pleasure ran down her spine. ‘Let me show you why.’
And this time, when he ran his fingers over her until need had built to a fever pitch, he didn’t stop. This time, he drove her right to the edge then tipped her over it, his eyes on her face the whole time, while the world, as she knew it, splintered apart for ever.
He spoke in Italian when she fell apart, the ancient words that were locked deep inside her somehow familiar and soothing even as rockets of white-hot desire punctured her entire body, flooding her with intense, blinding feeling. There was no other way to describe it. She was suddenly hyper-aware of everything. Every sight, sound, breath: the soft breeze from the climate control of his apartment, the golden rays of the sun causing beams of light to form on the furniture, his masculine, outdoorsy fragrance, the softness of his suit jacket beneath her fingers, the harshness of his shiny belt against her body. The hyperfocus on the ordinary was somehow extraordinary and shocking, so she was almost drowning under the weight of realisations.
She pulled back from him as if gasping for air, even when her body yearned for more. To be close. To be near. To be fully his.
But it was no longer imperative to do that tonight. His insistence on taking a scenic route to sex was suddenly overwhelmingly perfect.
She stood there, arms by her side, staring across at him, dragging in breath, as the world twisted off its axis and then sort of jammed back on. But not in the same way. Everything was different. Awakening. New life forming. She couldfeel it.
He didn’t allow her to separate from him for long. He closed the distance swiftly, eyes boring down on hers. ‘Have you had enough for today, Signora Moretti?’
Signora Moretti. Mrs Moretti.
Her gaze fell to the ring he’d given her, and her heart slammed into her ribs for a new reason now. The way he said her name was with such heat and possession that, for the tiniest fraction of time—barely a second—it all felt soreal. So intoxicatingly, dangerously real.
He moved closer still, so their bodies brushed. ‘It is a yes or no question…’
