At the Brazilian's Command

He took his time to soothe and stir her, and before long she had eased down in the bed as he continued to stroke and kiss her...her arms, her neck, the top of her chest above the swell of her breasts. It all seemed so safe and innocent. He had that down to a tee.

When she opened her eyes it was to find Tiago turned on his side, watching her. To have him monitor her responses aroused her even more, and a shaking breath shivered out of her as his big hand cupped her breast. His palm was so warm and firm, and a little roughened from his work with horses. He had intuitive hands, intuitive fingers, and when he shifted position to move over her, and his dangerous, swarthy dark face blocked out the light—blocked out everything but Tiago—she was more conscious than ever of his size and his strength. And also his willpower, and his control, and that aroused her too.

She held her breath with excitement when he stopped, wondering what would come next.

Making her comfortable on the pillows, he drew the covers back and stared down at her body, and for once in her life she didn’t rush to cover herself. She wanted Tiago to look at her. She didn’t want any secrets between them. She wanted him to see her body respond to him. Exposed like this.

His touch when he stroked her breasts was on another level. She tried to stay still but found it impossible, and with a whimper of need she reached out for him.

Tiago smiled. His dark eyes burned with hunger but he had more control than she had, and even as she writhed beneath him, trying to urge him on, he only dipped his head to brush her lips with his. That was almost enough, that kiss, but he denied her the weight of his body. His kisses fired her, his fingers teased her, and she was agonisingly responsive to his touch, but nothing she could do would make him do more.

He curved a smile. ‘I’m the luckiest man on earth.’

She was aching—really aching. She needed his firm touch now.

She gasped with relief as he returned to the assault on her senses, using firm strokes across her belly and down her thighs. And all the time he held her gaze in his.

She cried out when his hand finally found its destination. Easing her legs apart, he teased around her clitoris with a touch that was indescribable, while she lifted her hips in a hunt for more contact, crying out in desperation, not caring what he thought. She needed this—needed him. She needed this now.

At first she thought he was only going to tease her and leave her aching, but as if he could sense the level of her need he relented. Using one gloriously roughened finger-pad, he applied just the right amount of pressure, just the right amount of friction, at just the right speed.

Exclaiming at the intensity of sensation, she lost control. Tiago held her firmly in place, using his hand to increase her pleasure and make it last. Even when the pleasure waves began to fade she was incapable of speech, and could only grab a breath as he murmured with amusement, ‘I think you needed that.’

He had no idea. Sex as sport might be second nature to him, but she was a novice and would have to put these feelings in her heart to one side.

She laced her fingers through Tiago’s hair. His hair was so thick and strong. She loved the feel of it beneath her hands, just as she loved the rasp of his stubble against her neck.

Pressing kisses against her breasts, he eased her down in the bed and at last gave her what she longed for: the weight of his body pressing into hers.

She lost control again. That was all it took. She had imagined this moment for so long that now it was here she could only ride the sensation, while Tiago held her firmly in his arms, dropping kisses on her mouth.

‘Good?’ he murmured, knowing very well that it was.

‘Stop,’ she whispered, ‘or I won’t be held responsible for my actions.’

‘Don’t be,’ he said, finding this amusing. ‘Let me be responsible for your actions.’

She responded instantly as he teased her into a state of readiness and fell happily into wild release. Tiago’s kisses thrilled her. He thrilled her. She hadn’t realised how fierce she would be when it came to her need for this man. They were a fierce couple. Their hungry kisses spoke of mutual need. Tiago’s tongue claimed her. He claimed her. He challenged her in a way she welcomed. He made her fight him. He made her test him. He made her feel alive.

When he surprised her by standing up she actually groaned, her disappointment was so extreme, but he didn’t lose eye contact with her for a moment, and smiled as he reached for the buckle on his belt.

Folding her arms beneath her head, she rested back, watching him, enjoying the sight of his deft, pleasure-dealing fingers working to free him of the clothes that stood between them. His torso was hard and tanned, muscular, and magnificent, and her body was ready for him. She had never needed Tiago more.