The Legend of de Marco

Her head started to throb. She couldn’t take any more in. She didn’t want to hear anything else. Rocco pulled her even closer. She felt as if she was on a train with only one destination and there was no way she could get off now. Unconsciously she’d gone up on tiptoe, her body knowing what it wanted even before she did.

His head lowered towards hers, that beautiful mouth came closer and closer, and Gracie’s eyelids fluttered closed just as darkness and heat swept over her mouth and settled there like a brand.

At first the kiss was like falling into a whirlpool. Instinctively Gracie reached out to hold onto Rocco’s shirt because she couldn’t feel her legs any more. And then an urgency gripped them both, as if the first taste was merely a civilised veneer. Rocco’s hands went to Gracie’s face. She was being backed against a wall, or some sort of solid surface, and Gracie leaned back and let it support her weight.

Rocco’s mouth was hard, and yet his lips were soft, pressing, tasting, coaxing. She felt the slide of his tongue against the closed seam of her lips and her hands clenched tighter as her mouth opened up to Rocco. The kiss deepened. His chest pressed hard against her, crushing her hands between them. But Gracie didn’t care. She revelled in Rocco’s big hands holding her face just so he could plunder her mouth.

Gracie was falling, slipping and sliding into another dimension. Rocco’s scent intoxicated her. His tongue stroked along hers in a wicked caress. Teeth nipped at her lower lip, only to soothe it in the same moment. It was tart and sweet all at once. It was all-consuming, like jumping right into the middle of a fire.

He took his mouth away and amidst the fiery excitement pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth—an incongruously gentle gesture. Gracie opened heavy eyelids. Her mouth felt bruised, swollen. She wouldn’t be surprised if the world had moved on a couple of decades since they’d started kissing. She felt that altered.

She looked straight up into the dark molten pools of Rocco’s eyes. This close she could see flecks of gold. His cheeks were flushed.

Feeling bewildered, she asked shakily, ‘What is this?’

Rocco took down his hands from her face and caught some of her hair, wrapping it around a finger, looking at the fiery gold strands.

‘This …’ his gaze came back up ‘… is called chemistry—except I’ve never felt it like this before.’

Gracie shook her head. ‘I’ve never felt this before either.’

Rocco’s hand moved slowly up over Gracie’s hip to her waist, and then under one arm to rest where her breast curved out. With a lazy smile Rocco moved his hand so it cupped her breast, the thumb moving back and forth over the taut peak which tightened even more underneath the stiff material of her dress. Her breath hitched.

‘This,’ Rocco continued, ‘is what started between us the night we met.’

Gracie’s eyes searched Rocco’s for sincerity. So he’d felt it too. This extraordinary connection. Like a livewire coming to life the moment she’d looked at him. This had nothing to do with her brother. This had existed between them before they’d even known who the other was.

Suddenly a desperate urgency Gracie had never felt before rushed through her body. She needed to connect on a base level with this man right now. She lifted her hands from between them and caught his head, his hair soft and silky between her fingers. Inexorably she brought his head down to hers and pressed her mouth to his. He took her cue and both hands moved to grip her waist tightly as his mouth opened and his natural dominance took over.

Tongues met and clashed furiously. Gracie arched herself into the hard wall of his chest, crushing her breasts to him, desperately seeking to assuage the ache building throughout her whole body and between her legs. Their hips were tight together. Gracie could feel the long ridge of his arousal and instinctively opened her legs to increase the contact and friction.

She was barely aware of Rocco tugging the tiny apron free and moving his hands to the buttons of her dress, ripping them apart. Cool air touched her heated skin and she craved to be free of her constricting garments, nearly sobbing out loud when she felt Rocco’s big hands pull the top of the dress apart to bare her breasts to his gaze. She vaguely heard material rip.

He drew back from the kiss and looked down, breathing harshly. Gracie was dizzy, heart racing like an express train. She couldn’t get enough oxygen to her brain. Rocco’s eyes were feverish. As much as he could he pushed the shoulders of her dress down, baring even more of her breasts. The pale skin was framed by a black bra, not racy in the slightest. But Gracie was beyond caring. She needed this man’s touch, his mouth …

As if reading her mind, Rocco pulled down one cup, forcing her plump breast to spring free. As if hypnot

ised, Rocco cupped and caressed her breast, a thumb stroking the peak back and forth. Gracie bit her lip to stop herself from begging.

Excitement zinged through her veins when his dark head lowered and finally the wet sucking heat of his mouth surrounded that taut peak. His tongue rolled around it, sucking it into even more tightness. Gracie’s head fell back against the wall, the pain unnoticed in the haze of pleasure infusing her body. Her hips were squirming, undulating against Rocco’s, her legs had parted even more and his erection was long and hard and thick against her sensitive sex.

Gracie wanted to see him unclothed and started searching for his shirt, clumsy hands fumbling with his buttons. He took his mouth away from her breast and stood up.

Rocco’s head was consumed by fire. A fire of lust and desire and need too great to deny. Gracie was half slumped against the wall behind her. His hips grinding into hers was probably the only thing still keeping her standing. Her mouth was dark pink and swollen. Eyes huge with pupils so dilated they looked black.

Her fast breaths made her pale breasts rise and fall enticingly. She had small tight pink nipples, surrounded by slightly darker areolae and freckles. Rocco felt a sense of inevitability sink into his bones. This woman was his.

He knew he couldn’t rationalise that assertion now. He could only act on the singularly strongest driving force of his life: to have her and make her his.

With impatience making his usually graceful movements jerky, Rocco opened his shirt, buttons popping off around them. He looked at Gracie’s half-open dress. It had to come off over her head. He brought his hands to the thin material and ripped it all the way to the hem. His blood was pumping now. Her dress gaped open down to her thighs, giving a glimpse of black panties.

He felt feral. He felt wild. He’d never felt like this with another woman.

He looked at Gracie and forced himself to grind out, ‘We’re doing this right here, right now. Unless you say no. You have about ten seconds to decide.’

CHAPTER SIX

GRACIE looked up at Rocco, towering above her, making her feel impossibly small and delicate. The sheer stark hunger stamped onto his features was awesome and almost frightening. But she wasn’t frightened. She hadn’t even blinked when he’d ripped her dress open like some kind of animal. It had excited her.