The Mistress That Tamed De Santis

‘We’re supposed to be leaving,’ she argued, but her flush deepened.

‘I don’t care.’ He didn’t give a damn about his timetable. He needed her soft in his arms, looking upon him with sparkling, sleepy-eyed pleasure, not this hurt and annoyance.

He didn’t want to feel guilt where Bella was concerned. Only pleasure. She’d only brought him a sense of well-being and that was the least he could do for her.

He couldn’t make her accept his offer. He, who could make decisions that affected every one of the people in his country with the stroke of a pen, had no power over her. Not even to damn well help her. She would never forgive him for it even if he tried to force her. He couldn’t make her do anything—except in this one area.

‘In this you won’t say no,’ he said, aching for her sexual submission. Frustrated despite her warm willingness as he pressed against her. ‘You will not deny me the permission to pleasure you. You’ll come. Over and over.’

‘Egotist.’ Her eyelids were heavy but she kept those green jewels tightly focused on him.

‘You want it too.’ He sighed in gut-wrenching relief when she sighed and turned towards his touch. ‘More than anything.’ He leaned close. ‘Isn’t that right? Say yes.’

He needed to hear the words as well as see the willingness in her eyes and feel the hot softness of her body.

‘Only to this,’ she whispered back, her lips brushing his as she answered, her gaze still locked on his.

Oh, he knew that. He knew it and he hated it. Her slender body was hot and wet and tight as he pushed his finger into her sweetly slippery curve.

‘We’re not done,’ he promised with another rough kiss as he pressed close.

‘I know.’

But they were. And they both knew it. They were both lying now.

‘Antonio,’ Bella muttered as he pressed tiny little kisses over and over her mouth and his wicked hands tormented her and all the while he watched her. He watched and he knew.

Because she’d caught sight of the determination glinting in his eyes and knew he made all the rules as he pleased. And he was damn well going to please her now.

And she could no more deny him than she could deny her lungs air. She wanted to embrace him. Wanted him to feel as good as she. She was so hurt for him—more now she knew the truth of his past, than before. The guilt he felt? The burden he carried?

He’d denied it, but he punished himself so much—how could she deny him this last pleasure? How could she deny herself?

But it was too much.

‘It wasn’t supposed to be like this,’ she groaned harshly as he made her come. So quickly. So intensely. And she was so hungry for more.

It was supposed to have only been a physical relief. A one-night stand to boost her sexual confidence, to make her smile, to be her secret. But it had become more. She wanted more. But not his money. Not his condescension.

And he wouldn’t let her in where she really wanted to be. He’d made that clear. This had become too emotional for him. And for her.

Dazed, she leaned back against the wall, watching as he quickly shed his clothes all the while watching her, his ruthless expression so easy to read. He was ready to test her erotic limits again. And heaven help her she wanted him to already. Because that was the thing: she ached to be with him on so many levels—and she wanted to comfort and be comforted by him even if it could only be in this most basic of ways.

‘You’re sure you’re covered?’ he roughly asked, pausing just before taking her.

It took her a moment to realise he meant contraception. ‘I am,’ she assured him. ‘But is it too much of a risk for you?’

‘Everything about you is a risk.’ He pushed her legs further apart and claimed her with a powerful thrust that made them both groan. ‘But worth it,’ he muttered hotly before kissing her. ‘Worth it.’

This one last time.

Their hands locked together, their bodies locked, their gazes locked. He started, a searing, slow, devastating drill. He held her to him, teasing all her most sensitive parts with that skill and determination she’d come to accept was his strength. She couldn’t stop herself muttering his name in a broken whisper over and over as he ruthlessly thrust her to that agonising, tense peak.