‘I will drive you wild,’ he warned her, seeming even to enjoy this battle. As if any battle with her was an excitement for him. ‘I will make you beg …’
Mia kept her hands clenched in tight fists by her sides as a stubborn answer.
She heard his soft laugh at her stubbornness, then he took one pointed stinging nipple into his mouth and sucked hard at the same time as he slid a finger deep inside her.
Wild, he’d called her. Well, she went wild. It flared up with no constraint. Her hands snaked up and caught at his hair, her fingernails raking into his scalp as she cried out in a wretchedly raw response to what he was doing to her.
He muttered something—it sounded shaken. Then he was repeating the sequence of events so that she reacted in the same way. It was so utterly, mind-blowingly pleasurable that she didn’t even feel ashamed of herself, just elated—so exquisitely elated because she had truly believed that she did not have it in her to respond to any man as violently as this.
‘You will beg me or caress me,’ he warned.
Her eyes flicked open, green fire lasering into burning black. ‘I never beg,’ she informed him with amazing coolness.
‘No?’
With a sudden bright glow in his eyes he slid down the full length of her, landing on his knees beside the bed. ‘Beg?’ he offered silkily.
‘Go to hell, Mr Doumas,’ she bit out, using that formal title as an insult.
What he did was bury his mouth between her thighs.
Mia begged. She clutched at him in exquisite agony, and pleaded with him to stop. She wrapped her long legs around him and tried to pull him up and over her. She dug long anxious fingers into his sweat-slicked shoulders. She gasped and writhed and panted and hated him with a vengeance as he held her fast with hands at her hips and drove her to the very edge of sanity.
‘Oh—please,’ she sobbed, ‘please stop now!’
‘Say my name,’ he muttered against her flesh, his tongue making a snake-like flick at her with the cruel intention of ripping the breath from her body. ‘Beg me again and use my name.’
‘Alexander,’ she whispered helplessly.
‘Alex,’ he corrected. ‘My lovers call me Alex.’
‘Alex!’ she groaned. ‘Alex, please, please …’ she murmured deliriously.
‘Please—what?’ he demanded.
‘Please come inside me!’ she cried out in aching agony.
It was so humiliating because he laughed as he slid his long, lean, hot body along the full length of her, then entered her with no more warning than that.
‘Like this?’ he taunted. ‘Is this what the five-million-pound wife requires?’
But it was too late for Mia. The cruelty and the insult went sailing right past her because she had shot straight into an orgasm that went on and on and on, and made him go very still in stunned reaction.
He could feel her—actually feel her beating all around him on wave after wave of pulsing ecstasy. It shook him, shook to the very roots his conviction that he’d often experienced what was best in a sexual climax. This woman was experiencing what had to be the best, and not one part of her missed out on the raging feast. Not her fingers where they flexed and clutched at his body, not her breasts as they heaved and arched and quivered, not her mouth as it gasped and groaned and panted.
He caught her mouth. He needed to capture it, needed to join in that wild experience, and at last he began to move inside her, feeling that incredible orgasm go on and on and on while driving him towards his own mind-blowing finish.
When it came he lost touch with himself, with her, with everything. His mind shut down. He felt it happen—felt the flow of blood leave his brain as it surged down to that point of such unbelievable pleasure that it was almost agony to feel it eventually fade away.
Mia thought she might have died a little afterwards. Certainly something deep inside her had been lost for ever. She didn’t know what, couldn’t begin to try and work out what. But as he lay there, heavy on her, his big body still attacked by the pulsing aftershocks of what they had just created between them, she knew that something vital had gone from her—had been passed, maybe, from her to him, she didn’t know.
But it was most definitely gone.
When he eventually moved, sliding sideways onto the mattress to bury his face in the pillow, Mia turned and curled up away from him. She was shocked, shocked by the uninhibited wildness of what had just taken place. Shocked by the power of his passion and her own ability to let go of every ounce of self-control.
And now came the aftermath, she thought bleakly as they continued to lie there, together but separate, intimate but strangers.
Silent, appalled strangers who had been caught in the tangled web of their own sexuality, only to find after it all that they were still very separate entities.