His expression shuttered as he covered her with his hot body, hard legs moving between hers to push them apart and make space for himself. His hips lowered against hers, firm shaft pressing against tender flesh.

She shivered with anticipation.

“Say my name,” he growled as he held her head in two hands.

“Why?” she asked, letting her fingers trace the bulging muscles of his arms where he caged her.

“Because I want you to.”

She smoothed the sole of her foot on his leg. The movement caused a little rock of friction where his shaft rested against her.

He let more of his weight settle on her hips, stilling her tease. His stare warned her to comply.

She smiled. “I don’t work for you anymore. I don’t have to listen to you.”

“You’re my wife. You belong to me.”

“Do I?” There was something wrong with her that she responded to that possessiveness. But he wasn’t a man who collected things for the sake of it. He was spare about the things he accumulated, but he insisted on the best. To be counted among what he valued meant something.

“You do,” he assured her, shifting so he could palm her breast. Lowering his head, he breathed hotly across the tip.

Her nipple tightened so fast it hurt.

“Cesar,” she gasped.

“Good girl,” he said, giving her a lusty, superior smirk.

She scraped her nails against his shoulder, but he only shaped and massaged her breast. “I liked watching you come against my hand,” he said gruffly. “It used to drive me crazy that you would rather take a memo than let me make love to you.” His thumb flicked across her taut nipple and she felt it as a sharp pull in her abdomen and a flood of wet heat between her legs. “I admire control, but not when it prevents me from having what I want.”

“Who wants to give up a career for a one-night stand?” she asked with a hitch of her breath that held bitterness. “I needed my job more than I needed an orgasm.”

“It was a very good orgasm, wasn’t it?” He nipped her chin then looked down at where she was rocking her hips against him. “You already want another one.”

“Don’t you? I thought you had been waiting so long,” she said, goading him.

His nostrils flared and he slid his hand down between them, exploring and making her breath catch again, finding her ready for him and smiling faintly. He guided himself to her entrance and pressed.

The penetration stung. Not bad, but enough for her to press her hand against his chest to still him.

“Hurt?” A panicked look came into his eyes.

“A little, but it’s okay.” She shifted, relaxing and inviting him to continue.

He held himself very still, swearing as he glared at her. “You’re going to kill me, Sorcha,” he warned.

“But what a way to go, hmm?” A smile trembled on her lips and she let her calf slither across his tense buttocks, encouraging him to drive deeper.

He groaned, ducked his head to cover her mouth with his and slid home, hard and fast.

He shuddered. She let out a little sob that was both pleasure and pain.

He held still again, letting her get used to him. They kissed and she wriggled under him, trying to incite him, but he only stopped her long, drugging kisses.

“Cesar,” she gasped when he let her, feeling urgent. It wasn’t just sexual frustration. It was months of wanting to feel him moving in her again. It was being convinced a few hours ago that she would lose him and having him rise to protect her. She loved him. In this moment, she loved him so deeply she wanted to pour her whole self into him. She wanted him to mark her, claim her, use her up.

“Gently, tesoro. I don’t want to hurt you,” he said, peeling her fingers from his hair to lock them over her head in a firm grip. Then he kissed her again, deeply and passionately, just this side of ravaging. And he stroked the side of her breast, caressing around and under, dancing his fingers across her nipple so she whimpered into his mouth with pleasure.

Her secret terror was that he would only want her this once. She ought to be savoring this moment, letting him take it slow, but she was hungry and greedy and eager.

“Please,” she gasped, turning from his kiss. “I need you to make love to me.” Her eyes glittered with emotion. Her breaths came in shaken pants. Her entire body trembled.

He released her hands and drew back. She dug her nails into his shoulder blades, reeling under the sudden stimulation and his incredibly possessive look. He returned with an air of luxury, each thrust and withdrawal becoming a reinforcement of his right to make love to her.

She wrapped her arms tighter around him, moaning in glory, caressing his buttocks, feeling them tighten as he pushed deep, making her scalp tingle and her loins clasp at his intrusion, eager to hold onto the delicious sensations.


Tags: Dani Collins Billionaire Romance