Greek Mavericks: Seduced Into The Greek's World. Julia James
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She just wanted. She was filled with a restless, overpowering ache that was threatening to unravel her completely. If she didn’t have more of him. More of this.
“What do you like?” he asked, his voice a rich, deep whisper that whisked along her veins.
“You,” she said, the deepest and starkest truth there was.
“Surely you must like something specific.”
“Everything you do. Everything you are. That’s what I want. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.” The admission poured from deep inside of her. From deep within her soul. And she couldn’t be embarrassed.
“You are too easy on me, I think. I think you should perhaps make me grovel. I think you should perhaps make me beg.” He leaned in, pressing a hot openmouthed kiss to her neck.
“I’m the one that’s about to beg,” she said, her voice breathless.
“There’s no need. I am at your mercy,” he said, “your willing slave.” He kissed a line down her neck, down to the curve of her breast, his breath hot across her sensitized nipples. Then he traced the outline of one tightened bud with his tongue before sucking her in deep. She gasped, arching up off of the bed, sensation shooting through her like an arrow, hitting its target unerringly.
“You are very sensitive,” he said, his voice rough. A smile curved his lips. “And do not ask how I know you are particularly. I simply do.”
She had not been about to ask him anything, if only because she felt as though her voice could no longer form words. Her brain certainly couldn’t muster up the amount of cells required to say anything. Indeed, sentence formation was beyond her. He had transformed her, transformed her into a creature of feeling and needing. Who could do nothing but simply wait for the next sensation to bombard her.
Still, she managed to speak. “This has only made your arrogance worse, I hope you know.”
“I am a terrible trial to you,” he said, a smile curving his lips. “I can see. But I feel you enjoy my arrogance.”
He transferred his attention to her other breast, repeating the motion that he had done with the first, sending another direct shot of pleasure straight through her system. She shifted, parting her legs, rubbing herself against his thigh, seeking some kind of release from the pressure that was building inside her.
“So impatient,” he said.
“I am,” she panted. “If you could kindly move a little bit faster.”
“I only have this one chance to make a memory of our first time again. If I never get my memories back this is all I will have. I intend to take my time.”
He licked and kissed his way down the tender skin of her stomach, moving to the vulnerable flesh on her inner thigh before sweeping his tongue right through her slick folds. She cried out, sensation racking her body, wave after wave of release shuddering through her. And when it was over, she was panting, shaking and ready for more. Ready for everything.
“Leon,” she said, feeling desperate. “I need you.”
“I’m not finished,” he said, lapping at her again, his fingers teasing the entrance to her body.
“I want to explore you,” she said. “I want... Everything you did to me I want to do to you.”
She wanted to taste every masculine inch of him. To glory over the way he was made. To revel in a fantasy long awaited. Come to scorching life finally, at long last.
“No. It is my turn.”
And before she could protest he worked a finger deep inside her, continuing to tease her with his wicked tongue as he did. This sensation, the penetration was new for her. She loved it. Loved the feel of having him inside her. He added a second finger, stretching her gently as he continued to tease her clitoris with his tongue.
He couldn’t know that she needed this. That she needed this introduction, this moment of preparation. And yet somehow he seemed to sense it.
Pleasure built all over again, and she found herself close to the edge once more. Needing him. Needing all of him.
“Not enough,” she said, panting.
“You want me inside of you?” he asked, his voice slurred as though he had finally had that drink he’d been craving for more than a week. As though she were the alcohol that he had so long desired. As though he was drunk on her, on her body. On desire.
“Yes,” she said.
He rose up, positioning himself between her thighs, kissing her lips deeply as he tested the entrance to her body with the blunt head of his arousal. She braced herself, tensing her muscles involuntarily as he thrust all the way home. Pain lanced her, sharp and unexpected. She had known it might hurt a bit, but this was more than a little pain. But then, Leon was more than just a bit of man.
She clung to his shoulders, her fingernails digging into his skin as she tried to catch her breath. He just stared at her, his dark eyes inscrutable, unreadable. He flexed his hips, and she feared that he would pull away. Instead, he pushed back inside of her, groaning as he did.
And then they were lost. In need. In this intense, primal desire that had overtaken them both.
Pain was forgotten. Nerves were forgotten. Everything was forgotten but her desperate bid for completion. She ran her fingertips over his back, down to his strong muscled butt, back up again, sweeping over the square line of his jaw, the deep grooves around his mouth. She tilted her head to the side and kissed his neck, scraped her teeth along the tendon that was held so tight, that betrayed just how desperately he was clinging to his control. Just how close he was to losing his grip.
She could feel his muscles begin to tremble, could feel him growing closer to the edge. His own loss of control snapped hers. She cried out, arching against him, a deeper, more profound orgasm rocking her as her internal muscles tightened around him.
He thrust twice more. Hard, intense, a growl on his lips as he found his own release, holding her tightly against his body when it was all finished.
She was dazed. Storm-tossed. Completely and utterly at the mercy of what had just taken place between them. She could hardly remember her own name. And for one hysterical moment she imagined that was how Leon must feel. Wiped clean. Fresh. Remade.
There were worse things than being remade with him.
“Your ribs,” she said, suddenly remembering that he was injured. She moved her hand to touch his side and he caught hold of her, his dark eyes clearer now, his expression intense.
“Tell me,” he said, not moving from his position on top of her, his fingers like iron around her wrist. “How is it that my wife of two years was still a virgin?”
HIS WIFE WAS a virgin. There was absolutely no question about it. At least, she had been up until a few moments ago. What he didn’t know was why.
She was beautiful, and he was incredibly attracted to her. More than that, he had married her. It made no sense at all. Although he supposed it didn’t make any less sense than any other part of this situation they found themselves in.
A sense of cold dread filled his stomach and he turned toward her, his heart pounding hard. “Did you not want me? Did I force myself on you just now?”
“You know you didn’t. I said that I wanted you.”
“Then how is it we had never consummated