Mr. Beautiful (Up in the Air #4)(8)

I laughed and bent to kiss her cheek.

I pushed the ramp out from under her, letting her fall to the bed.

I freed her ankles.  I gripped them, pushing her up higher on the bed.  I flipped her over with just that contact, surprising the breath out of her.

This twisted her arms above her head and allowed me to spread her legs wide.  I tied them like that, devouring the sight.

She was so lusciously blonde.  Everywhere.  She was breathtaking, her ripe body with all of its perfect alabaster skin, trembling before me.

Mine.

I claimed her with my mouth first, beginning with a chaste kiss to her lips that was nothing so much as an assertion of my will, then moving south to stake my claim on every inch of her untouched skin.

Next, I took her body with mine.  I did it with ruthless skill, and the closest I'd ever come to wild abandon.  I broke through her barrier and became frenzied to the point of madness.

I heard my own low, guttural moans as I took her.  I'd never been loud, had always controlled my noises, but now, now, I just couldn't hold things like that back.

I never took my gaze off hers. Those pale eyes of hers both devoured me and fed me.

They swallowed me whole and kept me intact.

I felt her around me, felt her tender flesh clench, and I went insane.

I cursed silently, groaned aloud, tensed, then started heaving like a madman, hurting her I was sure, because she wasn't accustomed to an invasion like this.

And thinking of that had me losing my mind even more.

She was sobbing out her pleasure at the end, begging for release.

I kept going, rutting in her uncontrollably, driven like a fiend.

Finally, when I reached my limit, I took her to the edge.  I started rubbing her cl*t relentlessly as I pounded in and out.  "Come, Bianca," I commanded, my eyes eating up every detail of her passion-slackened face.

Incredibly, she obeyed.  Like she was an instrument already tuned to my touch.  Like she was made for me.

Because she was.

Mine.

Irreversibly.  Irrevocably.

I jarred into her hard with one last brutal thrust and emptied my seed deep inside of her.

I couldn't stop kissing her as I came down from that giddy high.  Her lips were lush, but that wasn't why I couldn't stop obsessing about them.  It was their softness, their malleable, pulpy, trembling silkiness that had me craving, needing more.

Afterward I drew a bath, my mind reeling, racing, reconfiguring my life as I knew it.

I moved back to the bed when the bath was ready, studying her limp, sated form with vivid pleasure.

I tried to place what I was feeling.  It was beyond satisfaction.  More like something akin to fierce pride.  She couldn't know it yet, but this beautiful creature had sealed her fate in that bed.

I wasn't letting her go.  She was skittish, but I wouldn't let that daunt me.

It wasn't a question of if anymore, not after that.  I'd be keeping her.  Now it was just a question of how.

I carried her to the bath and washed her clean with my dirty hands.

In spite of my thoughts, my desires, I could tell I said something wrong when she tried to leave before dinner and only barely cajoled her into staying for a meal.

I lost all of my usual finesse with this woman; the charm I counted on seemed to have no effect.

She was close-lipped and distant, but I managed to wrestle small bits of information out of her.

She didn't trust me, or expect much from me, but I meant to change that.

I had her again, taking her on the table with dessert.

I shouldn't have.  I knew it.  I'd used her roughly her first time, but she swore she wasn't too sore, and I didn't have the self-control to keep from slaking my thirst with her luscious body a second time.

I kissed the rope marks on her wrists.  "I love seeing this on you," I spoke against her skin, voice thick with something far stronger than mere desire.

I pushed her back flat against the surface of the table, spreading her legs wide.

I moved between her legs, my c**k a whisper from her entrance.

"Look at me," I commanded.  When her eyes met mine, I continued, "Watch me.  I'll punish you every time you look away from me when I'm inside of you."

She nodded, lips trembling, pale eyes steady and relentless, claiming pieces of my soul with but a look.

"Ask me for it," I ordered, stroking myself.

"Please, Mr. Cavendish, f**k me."

I obliged, pushing into her roughly.

I couldn't contain a deep groan as I began to thrust in earnest.

"Does it hurt?" I asked without slowing.

"It's perfect," she moaned.

Even after we'd finished, I stayed inside of her, carrying her up to my room while I bounced her on my insatiable cock.

"Let me know if you reach your limit," I told her roughly when I'd carried her back to my room.  I still held her, still buried deep.  "You should be sore and tender after your first time.  I should be considerate and let your body recover."

"Please, don't."

That nearly undid me, combined with her needy tone.

"You want me to finish you like this, standing up and impaled on my cock?" I asked, anchoring her to me as I worked her up and down my stiff length.