Ruthlessly Bedded, Forcibly Wedded. Эбби ГринЧитать онлайн книгу.
fell to the ground and Cara looked at the bare expanse of chest in front of her. Heat suffused her face. She reached out a reverent hand and touched him tentatively, trailing fingers over his hard flat nipples. His chest surged as he sucked in a breath, and when Cara looked up his eyes were momentarily closed.
In the next breath he’d opened them, and the dynamic changed. He turned her around, lifting up the hair resting on the nape of her neck, clearly looking for a zip or some opening on her dress.
It almost hurt to breathe when she said, ‘It’s a jersey dress.’
He turned her back, his features almost comically impatient. ‘A what?’
Cara couldn’t answer. She just brought her hands to the bottom of her dress and pulled it up, over her thighs and hips, over her waist and chest, until everything was obscured and she knew he was looking at her body. She couldn’t see his reaction. But she felt it in the air. Everything went still.
Finally the dress was free of her head, and as she pulled it away she felt her hair fall down her back. She couldn’t look at Enzo, feeling unnacountably shy. She was also very aware of the functional nature of her underwear, how boring it must seem compared to how she would imagine other women might dress for him, in concoctions of lace and silk. She wore plain white cotton underwear, and if she remembered correctly these particular pants were so old they had a hole in the seam. Mortification twisted Cara’s insides as she suddenly had a reality check and an implosion of panic. Her breasts were too small, her hips too narrow. Her brother had always told her derisively she had the figure of a boy.
With her head downbent she brought her arms up to cover her chest, and immediately felt heat as Enzo came towards her and tugged them down again. Cara fought rising emotion, feeling ridiculously inadequate. She didn’t want to see pity in his eyes, disgust at her less than womanly body.
A finger came under her chin, forcing her head up. She kept her eyes closed. Enzo still held her arms away from her body, and her chest heaved with the effort to control her emotions.
‘Cara…’
It was that inflection again, making her insides melt. Reluctantly Cara opened her eyes. She steeled herself, tilting her chin in an unconscious show of dignity, and met his gaze. It was dark, unfathomable and hot. Very hot. Cara frowned. ‘But I’m…not…’
‘Not what?’ he asked gruffly, even as his eyes travelled down over her body, taking in every dip and curve, and the high, firm breasts, tips hard and thrusting against the cotton of her bra.
Cara felt wanton and aching all over. He wasn’t looking at her with disgust at all. ‘I thought…I thought you wouldn’t find me—’ She swallowed miserably.
He looked at her again. ‘Attractive?’
He shook his head and took his arms from hers, let his body do the talking. With lethal grace he opened and dropped his trousers, stepping out of them. His shoes and socks were gone, bare feet tanned and big. Cara gulped. She’d heard the waitresses at the club talking lewdly over the years about men and their anatomies and proportions. His legs were long and tautly muscled—the legs of an athlete, not someone who worked out in the gym. Her gaze finally landed on that part of him that was still hidden under snug briefs. Very snug briefs, straining with the erection they encased. With a dry mouth she watched helplessly at the mercy of her rapidly heating libido, as he pulled them down and off, wincing slightly, freeing the full extent of what looked to Cara like a massive erection.
Her eyes flew to his. Surely there was no way—?
He reached for her and pulled her towards him, all the way, until they stood thigh to thigh, chest to chest. And where Cara could feel him pressing against her, the power of his sexuality a pulsing enticement to touch, all trepidation melted away in an instant, the beat of her blood drowning it out.
He caught his hands in her hair again, seemingly luxuriating in the long, heavy strands, twisting them around and through his fingers. She reached up and pressed her mouth and lips against his neck, tongue darting out, teeth nipping gently. He tasted salty and it made her skin prickle. His chest against hers was like a huge steel wall, the muscles rippling, causing her breasts to ache for his touch.
His penis now slid tantalisingly between her legs. The fabric of her panties was a delicious torture, and Cara found her hips impatiently moving against Enzo, seeking a deeper connection, wanting to feel him skin to skin. Wanting to feel him inside her. She was aware of this even though she’d never experienced it before.
Somehow they moved, and Enzo sat down on the side of the bed in front of Cara. He snaked a hand around her waist and drew her to him. She looked down with slumberous eyes. Her awakening, here in this room, was something she was already storing away in pieces for a future time when she would resavour every bit. He reached his hands behind her back and she felt him undo the clasp of her bra. It fell down her arms and away with a whisper, and her breasts tightened, the tips puckering even more in the air under his gaze.
He cupped one breast, his hand huge and dark against her pale skin, her freckles standing out starkly. She didn’t have time to be self-conscious because he drew her even closer, and she had to put her hands on his shoulders to steady herself. But she wasn’t ready for the sensation when she felt his breath as he closed his hot wet mouth around one nipple, tugging and pulling, suckling and rolling the tip. Cara gasped inwards, her belly contracting, sucking in short, shocked breaths, her hands tightening convulsively on his shoulders.
The sensation of his mouth on her breast caused a tight wire of almost excruciating pain right down to her groin. Between her thighs she could feel his erection, and instinctively she closed them slightly, trapping it. His mouth jerked from her breast.
‘Witch,’ he said again.
He moved subtly, the hard length of his penis now rigid between her legs, and drew the other nipple into his mouth. This time Cara cried out. She felt so moist at the apex of her thighs that she was embarrassed. Was it normal?
As if reading her thoughts, Enzo brought his hands to the top of her panties and pulled the edges down. Sudden self-consciousness made Cara stop his hands. Her face flamed. What if what she was feeling wasn’t normal? But with surprising gentleness he pushed her hands away and pulled her pants down all the way, moving her back so that she could step out of them.
She felt his eyes on her. She was completely naked, exposed. And then she felt one hand cup the right cheek of her bottom. She looked down, drowning in the dark dilated pupils of his eyes. They were both breathing harshly, skin already glistening with a light sheen of sweat.
His other hand cupped her between her legs, sending heat right to where she ached most. Her breath stopped altogether. The redness of her curls down there made her cringe inwardly, the stigma of her colouring bringing back childhood taunts, still pathetically cutting. But Enzo didn’t seem to notice. And it was soon gone from her mind when she felt his fingers thread through the curls, exploring her innermost secret folds.
Cara had thought she couldn’t take any more sensation, but the throbbing pleasure of feeling his hand and fingers there nearly made everything go black.
‘Dio. You’re unbelievably responsive…’
His words were lost on Cara as her head fell back. She could feel her hair brush against her bare waist. With a wantoness she couldn’t stop, she felt herself opening her legs wider, allowing him access. His fingers slid all the way into the moist heat of her core, moving in and out in a rhythm that had an achy feeling starting to coil through her. Her hips jerked and moved against his hand, all thoughts and feelings centered on those nerve-endings. She felt him move his thumb against her down there and yelped.
Her head came up and she looked down at him, genuinely mystified at this amazing tightening and coiling, this gathering of feelings that all seemed to centre around her belly and between her legs. She could feel her breathing quicken so much she thought she might be in danger of hyperventilating. Her movements became more instinctive, more desperate. She wasn’t in control of her own body any more. She was quite literally