The Revenge Collection 2018. Кейт Хьюит
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and jerky. The outline of his impressive erection made her heart skip a beat.
She realised that she had never actually considered the dynamics of sexual intercourse; how something so big would fit into her...
‘Your face is as transparent as a sheet of glass,’ Javier told her drily. ‘There’s no need to be nervous. I am going to be very gentle.’
‘I know you will.’ And she did. He might be ruthless on the battlefield of high finance, but here in the bedroom he was a giver and utterly unselfish. That was something she sensed.
Javier decided that he would leave the boxers on. He didn’t want to scare her. He was a big boy and he had seen that flash of apprehension on her face and interpreted it without any difficulty at all. He’d said he was going to be gentle and he would be; he would ease himself into her and she would accept his largeness without anything but sheer, unadulterated pleasure.
He had forgotten that this single act was supposed to be about revenge.
He positioned her arms above her head and she shifted into the position so that her breasts were pointing at him. Hunkering over her, he delicately circled one rosy nipple with his tongue until she was writhing in response.
‘No moving,’ he chastised sternly. ‘Or else I might have to tie those hands of yours together above your head...’
‘You wouldn’t.’ But now that he had put that thought in her head, she found that she rather enjoyed playing around with it in her mind.
Maybe another time, she thought with heated contentment only to realise that there wouldn’t be another time. This was it. This was all he wanted. A night of fun so that he could get the completion he felt he deserved.
She felt a sharp, searing pain as she pictured him walking away from her, taking his sense of completion with him, returning to the queue of beautiful, experienced women patiently waiting for him.
She squeezed her eyes tightly shut, blocking out the intrusive, unwelcome image and succumbing to the riot of physical sensations sparked as he trailed kisses along her collarbone, down to her pouting, pink nipple.
He took his time. He drew her aching nipple into his mouth so that he could caress the tip with his tongue in firm, circular movements that had her gasping for breath. Every time she lowered her arm to clutch his hair, he pushed it back up without pausing in his devastating caress.
‘Now let’s try this another way,’ he murmured, rising up and staring down at her flushed, drowsy face.
‘I’m not pleasing you...’ Sophie’s voice was suddenly anxious and her eyes expressed concern that she was taking without giving anything in return.
‘Shh...’ Javier admonished. ‘Like I said, you’re doing more for me than you can ever imagine possible.’ Doing more than any woman had ever done before.
She made him feel young again. He was no longer the boy who had grown into a man whose only focus was forging the financial stability he had grown up wanting. He was no longer the tycoon who had made it to the top, who could have anything and anyone he wanted. He was young again, without the cynicism invested in him by his upwards journey.
‘Straddle me,’ he commanded, flipping her so that their positions were reversed, and she was now the one over him, her full breasts dangling like ripe fruit, swinging tantalisingly close to his face. ‘And move on me...move on my thigh...let me feel your wetness...’
Sophie obeyed. It was wickedly decadent. She moved against his thigh, slowly and firmly, legs parted so that she could feel the nudge of an orgasm slowly building.
She didn’t care that he could see the naked, open-mouthed lust on her face or hear the heavy, laboured breathing which she could no longer get under control.
She didn’t care if he watched her, in her most private moment, come against his leg.
She was so turned on, she could scarcely breathe. She gasped when he held her breasts, massaging their fullness, drawing her down towards him so that he could suckle on first one, then the other, while she continued to pleasure herself against him, hands pinned on either side of him.
As limp as a rag doll, she lay for a while on him, taking time out to quell the rise of an impending orgasm because she wanted to have it all. She didn’t want to come like this. She wanted to feel him moving hard in her.
The apprehension she had earlier felt when she had seen his impressive size had faded completely.
He was in no rush. He stroked her spine and then, when she propped herself up once again, he kissed her slowly, tasting every morsel of her mouth. Her hair fell around her and he pushed his hand through its tangle and gazed at her in perfect, still silence.
‘You’re beautiful, Sophie.’
Sophie blushed, unused to compliments. She felt as though she had given away her carefree youth somewhere along the line and that single compliment had returned it to her for a little while.
‘I bet you say that to all the women you get into bed with.’ Her voice was soft and breathless and he quirked an eyebrow in amusement.
‘Is that the sound of someone fishing for compliments?’
Sophie thought that actually it was the sound of someone trying to be casual when in fact she was eaten up with jealousy over lovers she had never met or seen.
‘It’s been a very long time since anyone paid me a compliment,’ she told him truthfully and for a few moments Javier stared at her seriously.
‘Weren’t you tempted to get some sort of life of your own after your husband died? Or even when he was alive, given the extraordinary circumstances?’
Sophie felt a distinct twinge of guilt that she had allowed him to believe something that couldn’t have been further from the truth. But then she reminded herself that she was simply avoiding opening a can of worms and where was the harm in a very small white lie? It hardly altered the fact that she was a virgin, did it?
She decided to completely skirt around the whole thorny business of life as she had known it when she had been married to Roger.
‘By the time my husband died,’ she said instead, snuggling against him, ‘I was so snowed under with financial problems, I barely had time to eat a meal and brush my teeth, never mind launch myself into the singles scene and start trying to find a man.’
‘And you must have been pretty jaded with the male sex by then,’ Javier offered encouragingly.
‘Um...with life in general,’ she returned vaguely.
‘And with your husband specifically,’ Javier pressed. ‘Understand one hundred percent—he lied and used you and on top of that managed to ruin what was left of your family company.’
Sophie sighed. Put like that, she marvelled that she had had the strength to go on after her mother had moved down to Cornwall. She marvelled that she just hadn’t thrown in the towel and fled to the furthest corners of the earth to live on a beach somewhere.
She had been raised to be dutiful and responsible, however, and she could see now, looking back on her life, that those two traits, whilst positive, had in fact been the very things that had taken her down the wrong road. At the age of just nineteen, she had been dutiful and responsible enough to put herself last so that she could fall in line with what everyone else seemed to want from her.
‘Let’s not talk about all that,’ she said gruffly, sensing the tears of self-pity not too far away. What a fantastic start to her one big night that would be—snotty nosed, puffy eyed and blubbing like a baby in front of him!
It enraged Javier that she still couldn’t seem to find it in herself to give the man the lack of due credit and respect he so richly deserved, even with a string of unpalatable facts laid out in front of her. But, he thought with harsh satisfaction, who was she here with now? Him! And he was going to take her to such heights that by the time he walked away from her he would