The Dominant Male. Sarah Holland
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He just stood where he was, smiling mockingly, a ruthless glimmer in his steel-blue eyes as she pushed and pushed and pushed, getting more and more flustered.
Eventually she stopped, breathing harshly, dwarfed by his height and defeated by his physical strength.
‘So much for the modern woman!’ he drawled, and then pulled her hard against his body, his dark head swooping, his ruthless mouth closing over hers as she opened it to gasp and was silenced by his kiss.
Her vulnerable eyes flashed with a plea for mercy, but her mouth opened beneath his with a moan of helpless desire. And, although she struggled angrily against him, he really was too strong for her, kissing her deeply, determined to impose his will on her, enjoying her puny struggles as he controlled her easily, hard hands stroking her naked midriff, one pressing the small of her back so that she could feel every inch of his body hard against her.
It was wonderful, mindless ecstasy, and eventually she surrendered with a sigh of sweet capitulation, unable to fight any more, obliterated by him. She found her hands on his broad shoulders, clinging to him as she felt the last traces of common sense, of will-power, of fidelity to Bobby slide from her grasp like grains of sand on a hot summer beach as the water rushed in to engulf them.
He took immediate advantage, sensing her submission, and deepened the kiss. She clung to him blindly, unable to stop herself, drowning in a desire she hadn’t felt for years, years, centuries…
It was as though she had been covered in dust, a relic from a long-forgotten age, hiding from life, from love, from passion behind Bobby’s unthreatening personality until this man, Gabriel Stone, had come along to rip aside the façade and bring her, literally, to her knees with the excitement of being a woman in a man’s arms.
He slid one strong hand down to cup her rear, making her moan hoarsely, gasping for breath.
‘Don’t…please…’ she whispered shakingly against his hot mouth.
‘Make me stop!’ he whispered back, his breath hot on her tongue as his strong hand fondled the curve of her buttocks and made her burn with hot, moist desire.
‘You know I can’t…you’re stronger than me!’
‘Then give in and do as you’re told!’
Her heart leapt with fierce excitement, but the memory of Jack Ratchett and that hellish experience five years ago was still strong enough to break through her excitement and make her find a way to stop him.
She couldn’t fight him physically. But she could scream her head off—and that was precisely what she did.
She pulled her head back from him and screamed loudly.
His eyes flashed with steel-blue rage as her piercing scream rent the air. They both heard the sounds of people running towards the tent
Bobby lumbered in, followed closely by two other men and one woman.
For a second they all just stared at Rhiannon, standing flustered and breathing hoarsely, her eyes glittering, her face flushed, backed up against the silken wall, while Gabriel Stone towered as tall as the ceiling, hands thrust in the pockets of his expensive black suit, a look of hard, arrogant power on his tough face.
‘A sensational reading.’ Gabriel turned swiftly, taking charge. ‘I’m afraid Rhiannon was so startled by her accuracy with the tarot cards that she quite lost her self-control.’
‘Rhiannon…?’ Bobby asked gently, coming towards her, glancing suspiciously at Gabriel Stone.
‘It’s OK,’ she said shakily. ‘I’m all right.’ But she didn’t tell him what had really happened, and as her eyes met Gabriel Stone’s she saw the gleam of triumph in those blue depths, because he had made her support his story…he had made her obey him.
‘I do apologise, Mr Stone.’ The male organiser was more concerned with keeping Gabriel Stone happy. ‘We hired her in good faith, and…’
‘Please, don’t apologise for her.’ Gabriel Stone cut him off with a curt, contemptuous note in his voice. ‘If she was scared by the reading it was my fault, not hers. I won’t have her penalised. Understand me?’
‘Oh, yes, of course, Mr Stone!’
‘Good.’ He turned to look at her. ‘Thank you very much for an exciting glimpse of the future, Rhiannon.’
‘Don’t mention it!’ she muttered.
‘I shall remember precisely what the cards predicted.’
‘I’m sure you will!’
‘And I shall most definitely,’ he drawled mockingly, ‘be in touch with you to discuss it more fully in the future.’
Her eyes smouldered at him.
‘Until then…’ Gabriel Stone turned and strode coolly out of the tent, giving no more than a cursory nod to the men and the woman who practically bowed to the ground in their haste to curry favour with him, his money and his undeniable power.
Rhiannon watched him go, her eyes filled with hatred.
Hatred and desire…
RHIANNON presented almost two thousand pounds to the charity organisers. Naturally they were thrilled. It was the single biggest contribution of the day. Rhiannon told them that Gabriel Stone had donated the largest amount and they all swooned like mad, saying things like, ‘He really is the most marvellous man,’ and ‘How can one man be so generous and so sexy?’
‘Does he always contribute so heavily?’ she asked, because she had to know if he had been generous for good or bad motives.
‘Oh, yes!’ Marella, the head of the committee told her. ‘Mr Stone is a born philanthropist. He doesn’t just make millions and keep them all to himself. He donates to worthy causes wherever he finds them. And he has a particular fondness for children’s charities.’
Rhiannon mulled this over. The brute had made it appear as though he wanted to buy her, not help children. Yet clearly he would have donated as much whatever the circumstances.
That doesn’t make him a saint, though, she thought angrily. Look at the way he behaved towards me!
‘We’re going to be late for dinner, Rhiannon,’ Bobby whispered in her ear as she was about to accept another cup of tea from Marella. ‘I booked the table for seven-thirty…’
Rhiannon quickly excused herself and went to get changed in one of the superb bathrooms of the Manor. She had brought her evening outfit with her, and it almost felt as though she’d had a little holiday because she had to pack her day clothes, her Welsh Witch costume, her tarot cards and her make-up into a little suitcase.
In the mirror, she saw the faint bruising of her lips from Gabriel Stone’s kiss, and she wondered if she would ever need lipstick again. Her heart thudded harder as she remembered the strong arms around her body, the insistent pressure of his mouth, the exciting intimacy of their tongues sliding together and the burning heat of her blood…
I hate him! she thought defiantly, fighting the force of her own desire. How did he know what I yearned for? Is it written all over my face?
Staring into the mirror, she saw the wildness of her green eyes, the pout of her red mouth, and wondered, What told Gabriel Stone that I wanted to be dominated by him?
It was her secret.
Her secret, dammit, and nobody else was supposed to know—not even Bobby. Like Pandora with her golden casket, she had kept it buried for five long years, never thinking about it herself, if she could help it—let alone telling anyone else.
It wasn’t just the desire to