His Best Acquisition: The Russian's Acquisition / A Deal Before the Altar / A Deal with Demakis. Dani CollinsЧитать онлайн книгу.
she whispered with an ache in her voice.
He didn’t want to hear about other men. The mere suggestion shook him out of his blind, ferocious need and brought him back to reality. Was she trying to incite him with jealousy? Well, he would be the only man on her mind right now.
“Do you want me?” he growled.
“So much.” She pushed her breasts and stomach against him, cheek rubbing his shaved one like a cat begging to be stroked.
“This?” He guided the tip of his erection to part and find the center of her.
She caught her breath and stilled.
He ground his teeth, waiting in agony.
Slowly she slid herself against him, rocking her hips, nearly exploding his mind as she teased them both with a hesitant, barely there caress. “Oh, yes,” she breathed.
He thrust.
HER STARTLED SCREAM was quickly choked off, but it was a cry of pain.
Through his shock, Aleksy recognized that his shoulders burned under the cut of her fingernails. Engorged and rampant, his erection ached at the tight pressure stopping him from finishing his entry. Beneath him, Clair had gone stiff and taut.
For several racing heartbeats, he held motionless with incomprehension.
A strained whisper stirred the air near his ear. “I didn’t think it would hurt that much.”
Her words didn’t fully penetrate, but Aleksy instinctively tried to pull back.
Clair squeaked and clamped her legs on him. “Please don’t move.”
Understanding hit him in waves. This wasn’t a misjudged case of too much too soon. This was— She was—
“You’re a virgin?” He was amazed he found the word. And so loudly.
She flinched. Her hands slid to his ribs, and her tangled lashes trembled with uncertainty. “Not anymore?”
“I don’t do virgins,” he bit out, but he was locked indelibly inside one. How? His normally agile brain wanted answers, but sensations crowded his ability to think. She was tight and tense, silky and hot and vulnerable. He was livid, knew this was wrong, but couldn’t draw away. His body was shaking, intense sexual arousal riding his pulse, sending all the wrong signals when he was compelled to be still. This couldn’t be happening. He had to stop it.
“Please don’t ruin it,” she said faintly.
It? He was ruining her.
* * *
The sharp pain was subsiding, leaving a sting and a deep awareness of the hard length lodged inside her, hot and still.
He was furious. There was no hiding from that unpleasant reality, but Clair was more caught up in how her body was trying to accommodate his intrusion. Her internal muscles flexed. An answering pulse, surprisingly erotic, made her melt around him. He settled a fraction more deeply inside her.
Her breath hitched and so did his.
She let hers go slowly, unable to look at him. His harsh I don’t do virgins was still cutting her in two. She didn’t know what to do! Her skin was still sensitized and wanting to be stroked. His penetration transfixed her. It was incredibly intimate but wickedly persuasive. She felt as if she stood in the doorway to a new understanding and desperately wanted to grasp the concept.
While she could tell he wanted to exit stage right.
Tears of frustration gathered in her eyes. “Please—”
“Stop saying that,” he rasped, hands moving to cup her head. His thumbs drew circles at the corners of her eyes, rubbing the leaking dampness into her temples. “When you’re ready, we’ll finish this.”
He sounded gruff but almost tender. The kiss he touched to her lips was gentle. Brief but followed by one a little longer. A little more thorough.
She sighed in relief. He wasn’t giving up on her. As he took her mouth, she curled her arms around him, pulling him into her, wanting to feel all of him. When she tilted her pelvis, he slid home. There was a final sting, but—oh—such a sense of rightness. Too many sensations to pick apart and name. She was all feeling and he was part of it. All of it. She squirmed against him, filling her hands with him, seeking maximum contact while reveling in the fresh magic of being possessed by him.
He kissed her with ravenous generosity, exciting kisses that transmitted joyous signals through her, making her move against him.
Thick Russian words filled her ear as he slid his wet mouth down her neck, tucked his hand under her bottom, carefully withdrew and thrust.
It felt so perfect, so good. Clair threw back her head, a lusty groan tearing raggedly from her lips. She couldn’t speak, could only embrace this primitive state and encourage him with ancient signals, stretching and arching beneath him, moaning her pleasure.
Urgency built, quickening their rhythm. The sensations were so acute she wanted to scream. She needed more. “Please, Aleksy, please.”
With a growl, he thrust faster, offering what she craved, taking and giving, straining over her, driving her to a peak, holding her there, pushing her off…
She fell, but into flight. Breathless, soaring flight. Distantly aware of his guttural yell, she rose to skim the sun, where she burst into brilliant, ecstatic flames. It was the most delicious death until, like the sparks from a spent firecracker, she drifted in pieces back to earth.
* * *
Aleksy reeled as he left her. Dealing with the condom was his excuse, not that he voiced it, but he had to get away from her. He was spent, body twitching with exertion and coated in sweat, but he wanted her again. She was like Christmas dinner, when it didn’t matter that he’d already gorged himself. Greed for more consumed him.
He splashed cold water on his face, then glared in self-disgust at his reflection, his scar standing brilliant white against his flushed skin.
Incredible, mind-shattering sex that shouldn’t have happened at any pace. You’re going too fast. No wonder she’d been so shy about surrendering to passion. And when she had…
Please don’t ruin it. What was he supposed to have done? Left her frustrated and disappointed by her first experience with a man? Would that have salvaged something of the civilized gentleman in him?
As if there’d ever been anything civilized in him, he thought with bitter self-recrimination, old blades of guilt and abhorrence flashing between himself and his image. He was well aware of the primitive forces in him. He held them in check with his rigid standards, always. Shame and contempt filled him for dallying with a virgin. He’d stolen from a man he didn’t even know.
How dare she put him in this position?
He moved back to the bedroom to confront his mistake and found her sitting up, the sheet knotted in her fist against her collarbone leaving her pale shoulders bare.
She looked like a bride on her honeymoon, thoroughly tumbled, lips puffy and ripe, hair tousled, expression still retaining some vulnerable innocence while her new knowledge made her skim a hesitant, admiring look over his frame.
That look was a baited hook that caught in his gut. Lower even. The erection that hadn’t completely subsided pulsed with renewed life.
He hated the response he couldn’t control; he refused to be led by it, especially where she no doubt thought she could take him. Planting his feet hard on the floor, he crossed his arms and stood at his full height.
“I won’t marry you.” His cold warning grounded out the sexual electricity still crackling in the air.
Her