The Argentinian's Demand

In fact the same could be said of her entire body. Was that part of the reason why she had been so susceptible to him? Why she had been unable to stop herself from falling in love with him? Because he had burrowed beneath her fortresses and found the person who had been hiding? The trusting, hopeful girl who had spent so long concealing herself behind a wall of ice?

Fat lot of good it would do her in the end, because he was not available for anything more than a fling, but Emily had learnt to cut short those thoughts when they appeared.

His mouth clamped to her nipple was bliss. He sucked hard, and as he sucked his tongue flicked over the stiffened bud, driving her crazy. She couldn’t get enough. She touched the nipple he wasn’t attending to, pinching it between her fingers, and he gently pushed her hand away so that he could cup it and play with it himself.

‘You can touch yourself down there,’ he broke away for a second to say, with a grin that notched up the heat level roaring through her body. ‘Keep yourself nice and wet until I get there...’

As if to demonstrate exactly what he meant, he covered her hand with his and positioned it neatly between her legs, then he slid it into her wetness, pausing only to glance over his shoulder, even more aroused as he watched her play with herself. He could hear the soft, slick sound of her wet fingers and he stifled a groan of pure lust.

He had to press down firmly on his erection to stop himself from being tempted to rush things so that he could hurry towards his own satisfaction.

He let her tease him with her hands and her mouth, but he had to pull back often, because she knew just how to arouse him, just how to tip him over the edge. It was as if she had complete control over his body. And whilst it was bloody marvellous on the one hand, on the other it did require a great deal of self-control and gritting of teeth to stop himself from coming prematurely.

He moved down to lick her stomach, squirming his tongue into the neat indentation of her belly button and enjoying her little whimpers of pleasure. Then he covered her hand with his and eased himself down along her body until he could breathe in the sweet, fragrant aroma of her womanhood.

He parted the shell-like lips and dipped his tongue in—just a quick flick, establishing intent. Then he blew softly, which had her almost completely melting and wriggling, so he stilled her with his hand even though he knew that she would be finding it difficult to keep still.

Her body burned for his. She twisted and he tapped her gently and told her to keep still,

‘Or,’ he drawled, ‘I’ll have to introduce a little light bondage... Would you like that?’

The image nearly sent her into meltdown. She nodded and blushed, and then met his eyes with hers and held his stare.

‘You’re turned on at the thought of it, aren’t you, my darling?’ Leandro grinned.

If he hadn’t been so hot, and so in need of finishing what they had started, he would have hunted down something suitable to take their lovemaking down a slightly different road. But that, he decided, would have to wait. He literally wouldn’t be able to hold out for the time it would take to find some strips of cloth...

In fact he could barely hold out long enough after he had licked and teased that swollen bud to equip himself with a condom, but equip himself he did.

Emily felt that her body would combust if he didn’t fill her soon. He was so big, so thick, that when he entered her, her entire body was set alive, every nerve-ending satisfied.

But, as usual, he would do nothing until he had ensured protection. Even though she was now on the pill, and even though she had told him more than once that there was no need for him to wear a condom.

Even the pill, he had told her, could fail, and he wasn’t going to be taking any chances...

More than anything else this told a story of its own. The guy who wanted a football team of kids would never take chances unless it was with a woman he truly cared about—a woman with whom he could envisage having those children.

Underneath the burning lust, how could he respect someone who had slept with him when she had been engaged to someone else? He had never, ever said anything to give her any reason to believe that contempt laced his feelings towards her, but deep down she harboured that nagging worry.

It was just something else she had conditioned herself to ignore—because what would be the point of analysing it?

She closed her eyes and gasped with pleasure as he thrust deep into her, and then again, moving strong and hard and banishing her uncomfortable thoughts until sensation took over, spiralling and spilling over into wave upon wave of shuddering orgasm.

Their rhythms matched perfectly. Their bodies were so tuned in to one another that instinct guided them. When they came, they came together.

She felt his big body lose control and, as always, felt the heady sensation of absolute happiness that this man could do this to her and she could do the same for him.

Subsiding back to Planet Earth, Leandro almost missed the sound of his cell phone buzzing from where he had earlier chucked it.

Emily was fond of telling him that he had no respect for his possessions. He treated his expensive clothes as though they’d been bought cheap at a market and were disposable. He had a drawer full of smartphones, most of which had cracked screens. But Leandro found that her gentle nagging did not irritate him in the slightest. On the contrary, he rather enjoyed it—although he wasn’t quite sure why.

‘Your phone’s ringing.’

Emily lay back and stretched and for a few seconds Leandro was driven to watch her, because the movement was so unconsciously graceful.

‘I’m busy. I’ll get it later.’

‘What are you busy doing?’

‘I’m busy looking at the woman in my bed.’

Emily blushed and savoured the appreciative gleam in his dark eyes. ‘It could be important.’

‘Not as important as watching you. Or...’ he slid out of the bed, reached down and scooped her up in one easy movement ‘...as important as having a bath with you. It’s fair to say that both those activities take precedence over some work-related issue that can be dealt with later...’

He enjoyed having baths with her. He liked the feel of her body when it was wet and slick with soapsuds. It reminded him of how she had felt in the sea...with his arms around her... Those last few days on the island after she had come to him had been mind-blowing. Occasionally he caught himself wondering whether he shouldn’t engineer another spurious work-related trip out there just so that they could repeat the experience...

He had been to numerous breathtaking destinations during his lifetime, but never before had he ever felt the need to revisit any of them.

They took their time in the bath. It was a giant-sized bath, big enough to accommodate him comfortably. He could lie down and she could lie on top of him, her back against his torso, their knees protruding through the bubbles. She could feel him pressing against her, could know exactly how aroused he was, and he in turn could explore every inch of her wet body with his hands, soaping and massaging and generally working them both up to a state of maddening arousal.

His mind drifted back to the suggestion of a holiday with her, back to the island. Or they could go somewhere else. She had been abroad, apparently, as a child—presumably before her father had disappeared—but as an adult she had taken lamentably few holidays. He couldn’t quite figure out why that would be when she was so highly paid and could have afforded some pretty good holidays abroad—if not twice a year, then at least once.

He could take her to Paris. Rome. Venice. All three. Or they could go further afield. Mauritius. The Maldives. Some other exotic destination where he could savour her delight and enjoy every new experience with her through fresh eyes. It was an appealing thought.

He would talk to her later, feel out the ground. She was remarkably independent and he certainly didn’t want that to change—certainly didn’t want to introduce any element to their relationship other than transitory.

And yet...

They finally emerged from the bath. Standing in front of the mirror, he could watch her reflection—watch as she towelled herself dry, ending up with her hair, which she rough-dried before running her fingers through it, trying to disentangle the knots.

She caught his eye and grinned. ‘Your phone’s going again.’

Leandro took his time. When he finally made it to his mobile it had stopped ringing and there was a voicemail message to pick up from the guy he had not expected to hear back from so soon. Only hours after instructions had been given. Money certainly bought speed.

In the bathroom, doing something about her hair, Emily was unaware that Leandro had left the bedroom. She dressed, dabbed on some make-up, and when after half an hour he’d failed to reappear she headed down to the kitchen, where he was most likely to be.

His apartment was more of a townhouse than a flat, and spanned three floors of unadulterated luxury. She had become quickly accustomed to the display of wealth and now she bypassed the paintings, the handmade furniture and mirrors, the wood and marble, until she ended up in the kitchen to find him staring out through the French doors with his back to her.