His Indecent Proposal - Page 9

He studied her a few seconds and then released her from his hold. He moved to the door. “Thirty minutes. If you’re not downstairs in thirty minutes, Jenna, I’m coming back up here to get you.”

The door clicked shut behind him.

Her bath ruined, her thoughts in turmoil, Jenna slowly climbed from the water and began to dry off. Not even twenty-four hours since he put the ring on her finger, and she was already questioning where her sanity had been when she agreed to this.

So what if he was a fantastic lover? So what if she had unreasonable debt? Where the hell was her brain when she had agreed to this madness? He would take over her life if she let him. He was already showing the signs of it. And did she want that? No. Absolutely not. He only wanted to use her for two years, get what he needed from her, and then throw her aside. What the hell had she been thinking?

She raged at herself as she rinsed her panties and bra out in the sink. Washing her things only got her more riled up. He didn’t care about her comfort. He didn’t care if she didn’t have fresh things in the morning. All he cared about was himself. His reasons for needing a wife.

She was just an object to him. An object to be used. Already she could tell what kind of marriage this was going to be. A marriage of his convenience. Was it too late? Could she get out of it? Suddenly, the impact of him consummating the marriage so quickly blew through her brain. Had he anticipated her reaction? God, he was manipulative! But he hadn’t paid her the hundred grand yet. They were supposed to take care of that on Monday when the banks were open. Tomorrow was Sunday. Or today was Sunday already. She yawned and climbed into her silk blouse. It barely covered the tops of her thighs. She felt naked and exposed without panties.

Her mind continued around and around. Maybe she shouldn’t take the money. Maybe she should just run. Run for her life.

Castigating herself for being so melodramatic, she brushed out her hair, cut the light out and walked downstairs.

As she took the last step down, shock held her rigid as she saw him sitting in a large armchair in the living room, facing the stairway, waiting for her. His hair was damp from a shower, and he wore nothing except boxer briefs.

She swallowed hard and stalled her movements. His eyes were dark, intense, fastened on her completely. A river of both fear and arousal hit her in the stomach and coursed through her body as his intent stare penetrated her.

She lingered by the stairway as her heartbeat went into overdrive.

“You ready?” His question was salient, punctuated.

Chapter Eight

She stood without answering him, her hand on the banister for support.

He pushed to his feet and stalked toward her, one purpose radiating from him.

Jenna felt helpless as he wrapped a brawny arm around her middle, lifted her torso into him, and went for her mouth like a starving animal.

She hung in his grasp as once again, he began to dominate her physically, sexually.

He was blatantly male, his erection pushing against her, the need to mate consuming him in a way that left no room for anything else.

It was too much. It was too soon. She fought back.

She began pushing against the hands that held her, driving her arms between them, trying to wedge herself away from him. She squirmed against him in an attempt to get free, she ripped her mouth from his and turned her face away. “No.”

He growled low in his throat and pulled her mouth back around to his.

She sealed her lips tightly together and stiffened her body in negation.

“Why?” His voice was guttural, a raspy noise low in his throat.

Jenna’s body went limp in his arms as suddenly, she lost all energy, all will to fight. She sagged against him and answered him softly. “I can’t deal with anymore tonight. I’m so tired. I want to go home. I shouldn’t have done this, shouldn’t have agreed to this marriage.”

David’s mind reeled as he wrapped his arms more tightly around her. His need for sex was intense. His need for her total acquiescence was more so.

He heard a small sob in his shoulder and was pissed at himself for making her cry. He reached down and lifting her in his arms, he shouldered the door open and walked into the master suite. Putting her in the middle of the bed, he switched off the light and gathered her in his arms.

She went stiff against him, but he soothed her with small sounds. He ran his hands over her in gentle movements, trying to calm her.

She sobbed softly again, and he kissed her hair gently.

“Shh, shh. Don’t cry, baby. It’ll be okay.”

“I want to go home.”

His body went rigid and his voice roughened. “No. It’s too late. Just go to sleep.” He kissed her brow and smoothed his hands over her stomach. “I’ll leave you alone so you can sleep.”

His intentions were noble but her scent was driving him crazy.

She turned her face toward him and began to try to reason with him in a small whisper. “This isn’t going to work. I can’t take the money.”

She watched him in the dark, trying to make out his features. She was lying on her back, and he was on his side, hanging over her. It was too dark to see anything more than the outline of his face and the width of his shoulders. She waited in silence, her announcement in the air between them.

She gasped out loud when she felt his hand fall unerringly on the softness between her thighs. He ignored what she said as if it held no importance and squeezed her mound in a statement of possession.

He shoved her blouse up until it was scrunched around her belly. His palm moved to her soft stomach and brushed against the feminine flesh under his hand. God, she was so tempting. So soft, so lush, her flesh and her scent inflaming him. Her argument was dismissed in his brain; he would handle her concerns tomorrow. She wasn’t getting away from him, and for now, she either needed to go to sleep immediately, or get ready for what was about to happen.

He heard another small whimper, and mindful of her tears, set out to calm her down. He smoothed his hand over her stomach, down to the soft, sweet mound between her thighs. Her legs were closed, and he pushed against her pubic bone, swirled his hand up and away, and back again. She sucked in her breath. His mouth went to her ear and he began to whisper to her. “I want to touch you.” At the same time, he put his hand between her knees and pushed her legs apart. His hand smoothed up her thigh and gripped the hot flesh that was driving him out of his mind. “You drive me crazy. I want to touch you, Jenna.”

His finger went to her slit and he carefully, gently opened her. He heard her catch her breath and she trembled against him.

“N-no.”

His finger moved to her clit and pressed. “Why not, baby?”

“We shouldn’t have done this.” Her voice was barely a whisper.

He ignored her statement and kissed her ear, swirling his tongue over the delicate lobe and gently tugging it between his teeth. His hand left her thighs and moved to her soft stomach, worshipping her flesh, sliding his hand up her torso until it fell on a firm breast. Her nipple was tight and stabbed at his palm. He rubbed it, tweaked it, moved his hand to its twin and did the same until she was softly undulating against him.

He left the heaven of her breasts and caressed his way back down to her feminine core, found the wet nirvana that awaited him, and sunk a long, thick finger into her.

He hissed in her ear. “I want to touch you. I want to make you come.”

Her arms wrapped around his head, and her legs opened further, allowing him access. When he felt that small acknowledgement, his mind almost splintered completely and he had to viciously rein in control. He needed to woo her, make slow love to her, not hold her down and ram her like his body was screaming for him to do.

 

; His guts in knots, he fought ferociously with himself. He felt a small, smooth hand touch his cheek and a whispered plea. “Please.”

It calmed the raging fires within. He allowed her to turn his face, take the kiss, opening her little mouth against his. Her tongue came out, dipped into his mouth and swirled inside. His grip tightened on her unconsciously.

Jenna was swimming under a multitude of emotions. She had gone from panic to arousal in no time at all and couldn’t seem to concentrate on why she should keep saying no. Currents of pleasure were running through her from the smooth strokes of his hands. He was being so gentle. She liked it. Her body awash from the slow, caressing strokes, it was all the more shocking to her when he suddenly stiffened, pushed her legs apart and rose over her in one swift moment.

She was knocked from sweet desire back to distress in seconds.

David felt the moment he lost it and lost her at the same time.

Jesus Christ! He needed to learn some control with her, and fast. What the fuck was it about her that made him respond this way? His mind felt separated from his body, and the animal inside was winning.

He hissed in a breath, reached for her hips, flipped to his back and brought her over him, straddling him, all in one quick motion. He lay still beneath her, his hands on her hips, his breathing ragged. His cock was thick and engorged, and it pulsed against her, riding up between the silky cheeks of her ass. He was about to explode. He gritted his teeth and began reciting pi in his brain. Three. Point. One. Four. One. Five. Nine. Two. Six.—

Jenna’s breath hitched as she found herself spread out over him, her hands on his chest. Her feminine core was parted against his stomach, and his shaft pulsed against her, hot steel nestled against her butt. It was an intimate position that was blowing her mind.

She sat still and tried to assimilate the changed position and situation. Her eyes were adjusting to the darkness, and she could see the feral look on his face, even though his eyes were closed. Goosebumps slid across her skin as he lifted his hands from her hips, slid them up on either side of his head, palms up, in an act of submission.

Tags: Lynda Chance Erotic
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