His to Command: the Housekeeper: The Prince's Chambermaid / The Billionaire's Housekeeper Mistress / The Tuscan Tycoon's Pregnant Housekeeper. Christina Hollis
Читать онлайн книгу.
this woman because he had met a version of her in the unconscious world he inhabited while asleep. Was that why he felt so intensely turned on? Or was it simply because his body was so hungry for a woman’s touch?
Except she wasn’t touching him at all—and maybe that was because she was clad in nothing but a pair of unattractive panties while he was still wearing his suit.
He lifted his head and brushed his mouth against hers. ‘You will forgive me if I leave you for a moment?’
Cathy froze as the erotic bubble in which she had been losing herself suddenly evaporated. ‘Leave me?’ she echoed.
Xaviero’s lips curved into a satisfied smile. Did they not say that low-born women made the very best of all lovers—with their unaffected passion and disregard for the convention that a woman must never be too enthusiastic if she wanted to snare a man? He began to trail his finger over her skin and felt her shiver in response. Because she would surely be aware that nothing permanent could ever come from such a liaison. Unlike the socially ambitious beauties of his past, this voluptuous little chambermaid would have no expectations of a future with him. And how liberating was that?
‘Just while I undress,’ he qualified, one lazy fingertip skating irresistibly to circle the heavy warmth of her breast. ‘I want to feel my skin next to your skin.’
‘Oh,’ she said softly. Cathy’s cheeks flamed with pleasure, revelling in how those simple words could thrill her so—her lingering doubts banished by the glorious reality of what was happening. ‘What a lovely thing to say.’
‘Well, then.’ Reluctantly he moved away from her pink and white body and stood up. She was so sweet—too sweet really. He couldn’t remember a woman ever being quite so straightforward. Quickly, he stood up, kicked off his shoes and socks and shrugged off his jacket—seeing the aquamarine eyes watching his every move, making no attempt to hide her expression of enjoyment. ‘You want me to perform a slow striptease for you?’ he questioned unsteadily. ‘Is that the kind of thing which turns you on?’
Her cheeks suddenly grew pink again. Perform? Have the Prince slowly remove his clothes and perhaps have second thoughts about what was about to happen? What she wanted to happen. And would happen, she thought fiercely—because she had never felt like this before. Never imagined that this kind of expectant joy could ever exist—and it had banished all her normal shyness. Why, she was lying on one of the hotel beds, wearing nothing but a pair of panties, and she didn’t even care!
She swallowed as she watched the Prince unbuttoning his shirt and revealing a broad bare chest. Up until now she had lived her life as she’d been taught—and where had it got her? Precisely nowhere. And yet she had never felt for Peter what she felt for the Prince. As if she would die if he did not quickly come over here and kiss her again.
Firmly, she pushed her conscience away—losing herself instead in the molten gold of his eyes as he pulled off his tie and let it drop to the floor, where it lay coiled like a silken serpent. She shook her head in reply to his question. ‘No,’ she said. ‘I don’t want any kind of show. I… I just…want you here again.’
‘Then you shall have me,’ he promised softly. ‘Just as soon as I get rid of these…’ His hand moved to his belt and then gingerly he slid the zip of his trousers down over his aching hardness. And then, after removing something which glinted silver in the light—something which he put down on the bedside table—he stepped out of his trousers. And his boxer shorts…
Cathy gasped and he smiled.
‘So big, mmm?’ he questioned with soft satisfaction as he climbed back onto the bed beside her and guided her hands between his legs.
Even though Cathy baulked at such intimacy, she wanted to please him—and after that initial touch she did not feel in the least bit shy. On the contrary, she was longing to know him and to explore him. To acquaint herself with every centimetre of his glowing olive flesh. Eagerly, her fingers tiptoed over the taut silken length—but he jerked away as if she’d scalded him.
‘No,’ he said fiercely, and caught hold of her hand, pressing his lips against her wrist and feeling the wild fluttering of her pulse. ‘Not yet. Not the first time.’
She wasn’t sure what he meant, but by then he had moved over her and begun to kiss her—melting away all her questions—dissolving everything except pure passion with the power of his kiss. It was…it was the most wonderful thing which had ever happened to her—as if she hadn’t lived properly until that moment.
‘Oh,’she moaned, her body moving restlessly beneath his as she silently communicated her growing desire.
Xaviero reached down to test her honeyed warmth, feeling her buck beneath his fingers—thinking how passionate she was. Usually, he liked to run through an entire repertoire of his considerable sensual skills—something which completely captivated all his lovers. Women thought him unselfish, and in many ways he was—although he was always accused of holding back emotionally. But he was aware that giving them so much pleasure was also a kind of sexual boast—an innate need to surpass every other man that they might have known. For wasn’t it the curse of the younger royal son to always feel the need to prove himself, in every sphere?
Yet as Cathy’s fingers kneaded softly at his shoulders and she grazed her lips over his nipple he felt himself shudder and knew he could not wait. Her fresh eagerness was like nothing he’d ever felt before—like fasting for days in the fierce heat of the sun and then suddenly finding a long, cool drink of something indescribably sweet.
He reached for a condom and began to slide it on, aware that she was watching him. If there was one thing which had been drummed into him since he had first entered puberty—it was the precious nature of royal seed.
Cathy bit her lip. Should she tell him how gauche she really was—and that she was terrified of disappointing him? But who in their right mind would want to let reality intrude and threaten this delicate magic he had woven over her? And then he pulled her back in his arms and began kissing her again, and it was too late to say anything.
She felt herself shiver as his tongue slid inside her mouth and that irresistible heat began to creep over her body once more, dissolving all thoughts in its wake. It was as if something had taken hold of her. Some urge. Some desire. Some need to feel him closer than close. Something beyond her control, which was orchestrating her movements.
She felt him suddenly tense as he shifted his position, his fingers parting her legs, and Cathy trembled as his mouth continued its heavenly plunder. There was a split second where one final consideration struggled to make itself heard and her lips parted to tell him. But it coincided with a single thrust, the sharp sense of pain mingled with the sweet sensation of this beautiful man filling her. Her strangled cry. And then his.
What was he saying? Surely not, ‘no’? No?
Something had changed. There was movement, yes—but the mood in that bedroom seemed to have shifted inexplicably from joy to anger. Yes, anger. Bewilderedly, Cathy struggled to chase the incredible feeling which had been so tantalisingly close, moving her hips in time with his.
‘Keep still,’ he bit out.
But it was too late. She writhed beneath him with an abandon which was driving him wild, and that—combined with her hot tightness—meant that he was lost. Completely lost.
It was the most intense orgasm he had ever experienced and yet he hated her for every gasping second of it, withdrawing from her just as soon as his body recovered its strength from those powerful spasms. Staring down at her as a heavy kind of blackness enveloped him.
‘Why did you keep something like that to yourself?’ he accused, getting off the bed and grabbing his robe, before knotting it viciously at the waist.
All she was aware of was the condemnation which was spitting from his eyes as he towered over her like some dark avenging angel. ‘But… Your Highness,’ she said shakily—still not quite daring to use his Christian name—and her sense of shame