A Night, A Consequence, A Vow

But, heaven help her, she wanted to know.

She relaxed her muscles, inviting him to do as he pleased, and the first stroke of his tongue elicited a shocked gasp and sent a bolt of red-hot sensation through her that made her body jerk against his mouth. With a broad hand flattened over her stomach, he anchored her to the bed and her breath seesawed on another gasp as he gently parted her with his fingers, giving his tongue deeper, more intimate access.

Oh, God.

She’d never known anything like it before. Had never experienced this tight, quickening sensation in her body. Had never imagined she would enjoy being pleasured in this way. He slid a finger inside her, finding a spot with his fingertip that seemed to set off an electric current deep within her core. She felt taut, tingly, as if her body were a high-voltage wire coiling tighter and tighter around his finger. He pushed deeper, flicked his tongue, and before she understood what was happening she came, every muscle in her body tensing with surprise and the sudden, unexpected eruption of pleasure.

As her limbs went from rigid to limp, she panted his name, once, twice, and he raised himself over her, his smile a study in male satisfaction. ‘That’s right, dulzura,’ he murmured, tracing a line between her breasts with the tip of one finger. ‘Get used to saying my name. You are going to scream it many times before we are done.’

CHAPTER SIX

EMILY WOULD HAVE told him how cocky he sounded if her flesh wasn’t already crying out again for his touch.

She’d never experienced an orgasm like that

before, yet he’d coaxed her to that sensational, mind-shattering peak with seemingly little effort.

He dropped a kiss on her mouth then levered himself to his feet, unbuckled his belt and pulled his zipper down, his gaze all the while tracking her naked, climax-flushed body.

Suddenly conscious that she was sprawled on the bed like some open-legged, sacrificial offering, Emily quickly closed her thighs and clambered backwards until she encountered the pillows. For a moment she thought she saw amusement flicker over his handsome face, but then he pushed his trousers and underwear down, kicked them off and straightened.

The air deserted Emily’s lungs in a rush. Ramon de la Vega was a big man in every conceivable way and, though she was inexperienced—her sexual history confined to one partner—she knew she was small down there. Tight. Her pelvic muscles clenching with just a touch of apprehension, she watched him extract a condom from the bedside drawer, tear open the foil and roll on the sheath.

He climbed onto the bed, pulled her beneath him and kissed her, and this time she took full advantage of the opportunity to touch him, sliding her hands across the smooth skin of his shoulders, over his chest with its light smattering of hair and down the hard, ridged muscles of his abdomen. Apprehension giving way to need and excitement, she reached lower, curled her hand around his hot, rigid length and felt him tense. She tightened her hold and he growled something in Spanish against her mouth.

His knee came between her legs, pushing her thighs apart, and when he disengaged her hand from his shaft and then touched her just as intimately she could tell she was slick by the way his finger easily slipped into her. He added a second finger, stretching her a little further, and she gasped as he found the same hypersensitive spot he had earlier. A moment later he withdrew his fingers and the head of his erection replaced his hand. He stilled, poised above her, eyes locked on hers. ‘Say my name.’

A tiny shred of stubbornness pushed to the fore. ‘Kiss me first.’

His eyes glinted, one corner of his mouth lifting in a ‘two can play that game’ smile. Deliberately avoiding her mouth, he kissed her neck, finding the soft, sensitive place with his tongue that made her back arch in response. Then he pushed inside her, a strong, steady thrust that went only so far before her body resisted.

‘Dios...you’re so tight.’

He pushed in a little further and she stiffened, her body demanding a moment to accustom itself to the intimate invasion. Eyes closed, she dug her hands into his shoulders and willed her internal muscles to relax.

‘Emily?’

Hearing concern in his voice, she opened her eyes, looked at him and saw a stark mix of lust and uncertainty in his expression. ‘It’s been a long time,’ she whispered and felt her cheeks redden at having revealed that small intimate truth. She shifted and drew her knees up and back, and suddenly her body yielded and he slid all the way in, so deep and so completely they both gasped aloud and shuddered.

Groaning, Ramon buried his face in her neck and ground out more words in Spanish.

And then he rode her hard, a sheen of sweat gathering on his skin, his magnificent body rippling above hers as he drove them both towards climax with breathtaking skill.

Emily clung to him, each powerful thrust of his body into hers pushing her closer to the edge. She tried to hold on, sensing he was close, wanting him to come at the same time as her. But there was no stopping the intense burst of pleasure that hurtled her high into the stratosphere. White light splintered behind her eyelids and then she did what she’d refused to do before.

She cried out his name.

Again. And again. And again.

* * *

Ramon hit the ‘end call’ button on his phone and padded through to the bedroom. It was after one a.m. and, since Sleeping Beauty had appeared dead to the world, he’d decided to make some calls in the living room.

He studied her sleeping form. Emily was an outrageous bed hog and the discovery both surprised him and amused him. She was so contained most of the time, so controlled, he had assumed she would sleep in a similar fashion—either curled into a tight ball or flat on her back, hands folded neatly on her stomach. Instead, she lay sprawled across two-thirds of the mattress, her arms flung wide and her long legs half-in, half-out of the tangled covers. She was totally naked except for the silver chain and pearl that hung around her neck, and her tumble of golden curls, damp still from their shower, spilled across the pillow, begging him to bury his hands in them.

His body stirred, lust pooling with the memory of how many ways he’d enjoyed her body in the last two hours.

She’d blown his mind. Revealed a streak of passion and daring underneath her natural reserve that he’d relished exploring. Her inexperience had surprised him but pleased him too, satisfying some dark, proprietorial part of his male ego he hadn’t realised existed. He’d planned to take his time with her and he had up to a point. But the second her body had accepted him, pulling him into the heart of her tight, satin heat, he’d lost control.