Claimed For The Greek's Child

‘Please,’ she whispered on a ragged breath.

He reached for her then, drawing her to him as his lips crashed down against hers, pressing her body entirely against his. Her lips opened to him, his tongue filling her mouth, meeting her own. Christe mou, he’d only once ever found this feeling before, only with her.

He lifted her from the pooled silk at her feet, drawing a gasp from her that he felt down to his soul. Her legs came up around his waist, his hands went down to the backs of her thighs, glorying in the soft skin he felt there, and he pulled her against him and she gasped again when she must have felt his desire.

Through the thin material of his trousers he could feel the heat of her; he wanted to touch her, taste her. His clothes were too much. He needed them gone.

He walked them up the stairs to his bedroom, the one she’d never been in. He kicked open the door and realised that someone had been in here since he’d left. He let her legs go, sliding her down the length of his body, and took in the rose petals scattered across his silk sheets, the tiny candles that had been placed around the edges of the room providing little star lights casting the barest of shadows.

He took it all in dispassionately because his sole focus was Anna. As he took one step forward she retreated, until her legs were pressed against the mattress of his bed. She nearly fell back, but he held her in place. Trembling. She trembled at his every touch.

She sat down on the mattress and he went to his knees before her, taking her calves in his hands as one by one he undid the little shoe straps around her ankles.

Her eyes never left his, locked together by wanton curiosity and need. Her hands balled the silk sheets of his bed in her fists as if to stop her reaching for him and Dimitri felt the cord of his desire for her tighten.

Her small fingers slowly reached up to the loosened tie, slipping the material away from the knot and sliding it slowly, torturously, from around his neck, tossing it aside just as she had done with her panties.

Her hands, hot, pressed against his chest, either side of the buttons, before turning their attention to releasing the small buttons from their holes. Christe mou, this was taking too long.

His o

wn hands came up to either side of his shirt and he tore at the material, sending buttons flying, and cast the ruined garment from his torso.

Her eyes widened again in satisfaction as he stood, making quick work of his belt, sweeping off his trousers and briefs in one go. And he stood there, tall, naked, needing and wanting.

* * *

Anna felt her mouth dry the instant he stood above her, glorious and powerful, his bronzed skin glinting in the glow of the tiny lights that littered the room. It was dark enough to see his features, and the storm behind his unrelenting gaze. They stared at each other for an impossible moment, two gladiators about to do battle.

They moved together at the same time, Dimitri coming towards her, her moving up off the bed towards him. Their bodies crashed together, his powerful arms reaching around her, pulling her against him. The cry of pleasure falling from her lips as she felt the entire length of his naked body against her own was stopped only by his kiss.

His hands roamed over her body, the same way they had done three years before, touching, moulding, feeling every part of her. Her back, her thighs, her breasts. God, the things he was doing to her breasts. He leaned her back over his arm, his tongue playing with her hardened nipple, wringing another cry from her mouth, as his clever fingers taunted the other. And it wasn’t enough. The need to feel him, inside her, was so utterly overwhelming.

‘Dimitri...please.’ The words came unbidden from her own mouth, her voice husky with a desire that she was almost ashamed of.

‘What is it you want, agapi mou? How is it you’d like me to take you? To please you?’

The words caught in the back of her throat. She didn’t know how to do this. How to express what it was that she wanted. She wanted...everything. She wanted him to touch her, she wanted him to taste her...she wanted to taste him. But the words wouldn’t come.

As if he sensed her inability to speak, a small smile curved that sinful mouth and he pressed her back into the soft mattress, moving with her, allowing her to feel the weight of him against her, over her. He leaned on one arm, trailing his free hand across her neck, between her breasts, down over the stomach that had borne their child. As if the same thought had struck him, he bent to press kisses against the slight swell of a stomach that had been almost perfectly flat three years before. Was he taking in the changes that pregnancy and birth had wrought on her body? Did he find them distasteful? But his kisses soothed her fears, driving heat and sparkles of sensation across her skin. His hand continued further down her body, gently pressing her thighs apart. And then he found the heart of her.

Her hand flew to his, not knowing whether she was going to push him away or press him to her. It felt incredible, the pleasure he was wringing from her. She felt her back rise from the mattress, her chest eagerly reaching for his own. But instead of satisfying her desire he pulled back, raised himself to take her in. He took her hand in his other and pressed it over his as he continued to caress her intimately.

Gasps rained down from her lips as he thrust a long finger deep within her. One, then two, filling her, but it wasn’t enough. His lips came down on hers as his tongue echoed the movements of his quick fingers. Her skin was alive, and her breath came in pants. Words, unspoken before, freed by the pleasure he was giving her, fell into the room. Begging words, pleading words she’d have had the sense to prevent if she were in control of her body, of her mind. But she wasn’t.

The hard jut of him pressed against her stomach and she shifted her hips, wanting him, needing him inside her. She was so close to an orgasm, the little lights of the room turning into starbursts in the edges of her mind. But then he stopped, and her heart did too.

She had a moment of uncertainty, until he pressed her thighs further apart and plunged into her deeply in one swift motion, bringing her to completion, bringing her out of her mind. A small well of hysteria bubbled deep within her, and for a second Anna lost all sense of time, all sense of place, and only Dimitri remained, the feel of him as her muscles held him in place within her.

Just when Anna thought she’d found her breath, he started moving, slowly, languorously almost, but deeply, so deeply, she couldn’t tell where she ended and he began.

Even three years before she hadn’t felt anything this incredible, the power of him turning her helpless, and she gave herself over to him completely. Again and again he brought her to the brink of yet another orgasm, and just before she could fall he would slow the punishing rhythm, as if testing the very limits of his own control. Minutes gave over to sensation, time gave over to pleasure and only when she felt him harden even more did she find the truth of their joining. He stilled, biting his bottom lip as if preventing the same cries she’d given freely from escaping. She felt him shudder and release himself into her at the very same moment she fell into the abyss.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Dear Dimitri,

I wanted more. More than you were willing to give.