Spaniard Untamed (Blood and Thunder 3)

“Lie down,” he instructed. “I want to look at you.”

Settling onto the mossy ground, she stroked her hands over the undulating surface before returning her touch to her own body. The bank felt damp and scratchy, while she felt cool from the water, but deliciously smooth. Arching her back, she thrust her naked breasts toward him. Pinching her nipples into arrogant peaks, she stared into his eyes, daring him to resist the urge to suckle. To her disappointment, he didn’t move. He simply raised a brow, suggesting she carry on, and so she moved her hands slowly over the swell of her belly, bringing them to rest at the apex of her thighs.

“Touch yourself,” Diego commanded softly. “Show me what you do when it’s dark and you’re alone in bed. Show me what you like. I want to watch as you pleasure yourself.”

“I can’t,” she protested, realizing too late that her boldness had put her in a really deep hole.

“Of course you can,” he argued quietly.

“But why can’t you touch me, show me—”

“Like this?”

“Exactly like that,” she exclaimed on a shaking breath as Diego hunkered down by her side and took over.

His hand, his touch… Thrashing her head on the ground, she fought to draw sufficient breath into her lungs. Parting her legs, she allowed him better access. The sensation wa

s indescribable. Applying the lightest pressure with the slightly roughened pad of his forefinger, he found her and quickly brought her to the edge. But once she was hovering and more than ready to fall, he took his hand away.

“No,” she exclaimed in an agony of frustration.

“Now it’s your turn,” he insisted.

“I can’t. Not in front of you.”

“I say you can.” Guiding her hand, he proved this to be the case.

At first she resisted and tried to close her mind to sensation, telling herself that she would not be reduced to begging for release. But she did beg. She did feel. She did need, and she certainly pleaded with him. “Now, oh, please, now…now!” she begged as Diego increased the pressure of his hand over hers.

She fell at once, bucking so violently at the moment of release that he had to hold her down with one hand while he worked her with the other. When she quieted, he took hold of her wrists and pinned them above her head. “Again?” he suggested, smiling into her eyes.

“Yes!” She had no inhibitions left. Her only thought was to repeat the experience as many times as she could. She widened her legs a little more, loving the wet sounds his skill had produced as she invited him to give her more.

“What’s your hurry?” he demanded as he continued to tease her with touches that were far too light. “We’ve got all night.”

He might have all night, but she had to get away as soon as she could. And before then, she had more technical preparations to make. “You’re the hurry,” she insisted. “I need this, and I don’t see why I should have to wait.”

Her comment made him laugh. Wrapping her in his arms, he kissed her deeply, tenderly, searchingly, almost as if he really was making love to her rather than just having sex. Emotion came back like a drowning wave, and all the feelings she’d bottled up for years came pouring out.

“Tears?” Diego said with surprise as he caught one on his thumb pad.

She would not disgrace herself by crying openly like a child simply because this was her first experience of tenderness.

She should have known that Diego would not allow the tension to ease. He brushed kisses against her lips, her eyelids, and then over the pulse throbbing hectically at the side of her neck. She squirmed with pleasure as his stubble scraped her, and groaned shakily when he began to kiss his way across her collarbone toward her breasts. Anticipation of pleasure made her nipples stand painfully erect. “Please,” she whispered.

His amused gaze settled on her face. “You won’t thank me for rushing this.”

“Try me,” she challenged.

Her body was quite literally shaking with lust. Whatever the original motive behind her plan—to draw this out, to lure him on until she was sure she had him hooked, Diego had made delay impossible. She had to have him now.

“Fuck me,” she said quietly.

He smiled, and, arranging her to his liking, he sat her up and ran the palm of his hand very slowly down her spine.

“Now,” she insisted.

When he reached the swell of her buttocks, he captured them in one big hand. Arching her back, she searched for more contact, but he refused to touch her in the way she needed him to, however much she made her hunger obvious. “How long are you going to torture me?” she demanded.