Won by the Wealthy Greek. Cathy Williams
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the memory. But at least his conscience was clear. She was his equal in passion. She knew what she was doing. And so did he.
This time Iannis made no complaint when Charlotte raised her arms to undo his shirt. He made it easy for her to slip the tiny horn buttons free, and then offered his wrists so that she could release the buttons on his cuffs. Moving his arms away from his sides, he allowed her to ease the shirt from his trousers and had to stop himself smiling when she was forced to stand on tiptoes to slip it from his shoulders. As she did her breasts pressed against his naked chest, and even through her top he could feel the insistent thrust of her hardened nipples.
She heard the fast breath he sucked in and looked up in satisfaction. ‘Maybe you will be the one who has to beg,’ she said, raising her eyebrows, gently mocking him.
‘Hussy,’ Iannis murmured with pleasure as she went on about her task. He eased onto one hip and saw her glance stray to the buckle on his trousers. ‘Do you want some help?’ he offered huskily.
‘I think I’ll manage,’ Charlotte answered, keeping steady eye contact as she loosened the soft kidskin belt from its silver tine.
Her voice was contained, but her eyes, her breathing, everything about her told him different, Iannis thought, tensing as very slowly Charlotte began lowering the zip on his trousers. He had never allowed a woman to take charge before—and never felt so turned on before. Charlotte had turned the tables on him in a way he could never have anticipated. She eased the trousers down over his hips and he stepped out of them. As she dipped down to help him he saw her hair still tangled from the sea. It made her look so vulnerable, so terribly fragile.
Fragile, but dangerously strong-willed. He remembered just in time what she had done. It was that strength he was pitting himself against now, not her vulnerability.
He groaned, all rational thought obliterated as she slipped the fingers of each hand beneath the elastic of his briefs. It cut off his train of thought as effectively as if she had taken him in her mouth. But it felt great. She felt great, he realised, easing into the sensation.
Charlotte swallowed hard as she brought the black silk briefs down over Iannis’s lean hips. She had never seen a man so aroused before. She had never wanted a man like this before, she realised, but for Iannis she would do anything. Sinking slowly to her knees in front of him, she took him in her mouth.
Iannis exhaled a ragged sigh. The touch of her lips and tongue was tentative to begin with, but as she grew in confidence she became more certain and more extreme. The sensation was building in him so fast it was as if he was a virgin, with no notion of control. He was suddenly suffused with the desire to do as much for her, and more—and that feeling was growing with every thought-stealing stroke of her tongue.
He moaned softly, throwing his head back as she closed her lips around him, pressing him firmly against the roof of her mouth as she began to suck. Soon he wouldn’t be able to stop himself, Iannis realised as his hips flexed convulsively. She was a Siren, a water sprite. She had bewitched him, Iannis Kiriakos, to whom control was everything—in every area of his life.
‘Stop,’ he managed huskily. ‘Stop, Charlotte! Stop now!’
She ignored him.
When was the last time anyone had disobeyed him? Could he recall a single incident? Much as he wanted her to continue, catching sight of Charlotte’s tangled, salt-clogged hair, Iannis knew his need to pleasure her was greater. She was the most dangerous and the most infuriating woman he had ever known. But she drew other feelings from him too, and it was these that made him reach down and bring her to her feet.
‘Did I do something wrong?’
Wilful, strong, and yet so very fragile, Iannis thought as he drew her into his arms. ‘No,’ he admitted, wishing things could be different between them, ‘you did nothing wrong. You did everything right.’
Charlotte gazed up, wanting to believe him. ‘So, why—?’
He rested one finger over her swollen lips, making a sound he might have made to a child. But then he replaced that finger with his lips and all Charlotte’s concerns dissolved into sensation. His lips were firm and insistent, and he teased the seam of her lips apart with lazy passes of his tongue, then took her, plunging deeply and slowly into the moist darkness of her mouth.
Her hips moved convulsively to provide a warm cradle for his erection, and the touch of his naked body against every inch of her torso, even through the thickness of her clothes, was all it took to tip her over the edge so that she cried out in surprise as the violent spasms claimed her.
Iannis supported her, bearing her weight when her legs gave way and lifting her off the ground to deepen his kiss for the duration of her climax.
‘You greedy girl,’ he murmured softly when it was all over. ‘Did I give you permission for that?’
His voice was low and teasing, and he felt so strong, so wonderful against her. She never wanted him to let her go, never wanted the moment to end. And the way he was looking at her—his gaze penetrating, warm and amused—she wanted that look to last for ever. ‘I’m sorry, I—’
He cut her off with his finger again and made the same soft sound as he let her go. ‘Where’s the shampoo?’ he said, looking around.
‘Shampoo?’ Charlotte mumbled, still mesmerised, still lost in the aftermath of sensation.
‘The shampoo,’ Iannis repeated. ‘In here?’ he enquired, opening a cupboard on the wall.
Charlotte managed to whisper, ‘Yes,’ her gaze following Iannis, drinking him in, relishing the sight of him.
‘Conditioner?’
‘Conditioner?’ A croak seemed to emerge from her throat of its own accord.
‘Yes—you know,’ Iannis said wryly. He ruffled his own hair, then, seeing the state she was in—how reluctant to emerge from the erotic trance into which he had placed her—he raised his shoulders in a shrug and shook his head.
‘Shower,’ she managed to whisper.
Iannis checked, and then came back to her.
‘I hope you have a good water tank or we’ll be taking a cold shower,’ he observed dryly.
The water was still running, Charlotte realised, coming to. ‘Oh, no!’
‘No matter,’ Iannis said. ‘We have more than enough heat between us, and to spare. Come,’ he said, beckoning to her. ‘Come to me, Charlotte.’
Charlotte raised her arms for him and Iannis eased her top over her head. The old swimming costume felt tight across her straining breasts. She had never seen her nipples so erect.
‘Magnificent,’ Iannis remarked, following her gaze. With both his hands he very lightly cupped her breasts, and with an even lighter touch scraped his thumbnails very slowly around the base of the insistent peaks before taking them in a firm grip through the worn fabric and tugging on them.
Charlotte gasped and threw back her head as the pleasure lapped over her, but Iannis removed his hands immediately.
‘Not again,’ he warned. ‘I won’t allow you to lose control again.’
As he dropped a kiss on her shoulder Charlotte felt his beard-roughened face scrape against her tender neck and shuddered with delight. Then she felt him nudging her a little, and realised that he had already loosened her shorts and pushed them down over the swell of her hips.
Tilting her chin up, he made her look at him. Very lightly he touched her lips with his tongue… teasing her, Charlotte realised, when he stopped and held her away from him. It made her long all the more to press against him, to feel his erection pressed hard against the cushion of her belly.
Were her eyes as dark as his? They seemed to control her without the need for words. She lost herself willingly in the deep black pools of light, groaning in response when he slipped the straps of her costume down