The Wedding Ultimatum. Helen Bianchin
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pressure of his oral stimulation, alternately exulting in it and hating herself, him, for the attack on her emotions.
Danielle almost cried with relief as his mouth left hers and sought a sensitive hollow at the base of her throat.
Not content, he trailed a slow path to her breast, teasing the hardened nipple until she tangled her fingers in his hair and endeavoured to shift his head.
Sensation arrowed through her body as he began to suckle shamelessly before shifting his attention to the other sensitised peak, and she gave an anguished groan as his mouth travelled to her waist, then trailed down over her quivering stomach.
He wouldn’t… But he did, holding her flailing hands together with effortless ease as he bestowed the most intimate kiss of all.
She attempted to use her feet, her legs, to buck against him, but he simply adjusted them beneath his weight, locking her into immobility as he took his time gifting a sensual feast that shattered her equilibrium and sent her climbing to heights she hadn’t known existed.
Did she cry out? She had no idea of time or place as sensation ruled.
He felt her body quiver, heard the husky sounds emerge from her lips, and he levered himself up over her in one fluid movement, nudging her thighs apart as he eased himself into her.
She was tight, despite his preparation, and he took it slow, feeling her stretch, aware of her momentary panic as she attempted to ease the pressure.
His mouth closed over her own, absorbing her startled cry as he withdrew a little before increasing that initial thrust, repeating the action until she took all of him.
Dear heaven. Danielle swallowed painfully against the feeling of complete enclosure as her muscles contracted around him, causing waves of sensation she was unable to control.
Then he began to move, slowly at first, and she twisted her head from one side to the other as the sensation intensified.
She was conscious of him watching her, and, unbidden, her gaze locked with his as he slowly rocked back and forth, increasing the pace until she was able to accept each long thrust.
It happened again, that powerful, almost excruciating, exquisite spiralling sensation that took her so high she felt as if she was going to fall off the edge of the world.
His climax followed soon after, and she witnessed his attempt at control, watched as he lost it, then marvelled at the extent of his passion.
Nothing she’d experienced came close to the primitive emotion he’d managed to arouse. Raw, spell-binding pleasure meshing with complete fulfilment.
It said much for the man who only hours ago had placed his ring on her finger. Was the seduction deliberate? Or was this his usual modus operandi in the bedroom?
If so, she decided shakily, it was little wonder women sought him out.
Seconds later she gasped in shocked surprise as he rolled onto his back, carrying her with him. His eyes were impossibly dark and slumberous with sated desire, and her own widened as his fingers tangled in her hair.
‘What are you doing?’
‘Removing the band from your hair.’
Free, its length spilled down onto her shoulders, and her eyes widened as he finger-combed the thick mass, then he cupped her face and brought it down to angle his mouth to her own in a kiss that tore at the very foundation of her emotions.
So, he could kiss, part of her brain registered dimly. On a score of one to ten, she’d have to accord him a twenty. And then some. Sensual skill…he had it in spades, aware just which buttons to press to achieve a desired effect.
This is a man you profess to hate, remember? For any number of reasons. Uppermost, the diabolical scheme he’d devised, waiving a considerable debt in exchange for several years of her life…and the gift of a child.
With a muted groan she wrenched her mouth away from his and used her hands to push against his chest.
‘I’d like to get some sleep.’ She’d had as much of him as she felt she could handle for one night.
Yet even as she voiced the words she felt him swell inside her, his arousal stretching and expanding until he filled her completely.
He couldn’t, surely? Not so soon?
‘So you shall,’ Rafe drawled as his hands moved from her waist to shape her breasts. ‘Later.’
He teased the tender peaks, brushing his knuckles back and forth, then he traced a feathery path over her midriff, her stomach, to where they were joined.
Her body jolted as sensation flared, and she clutched his chest as he gently rocked his hips in the first of several undulating movements, each more active than the last until she became lost in an electrifying ride that had her crying out as she reached the brink, then tumbled over the edge in a sensual free-fall.
She felt the breath tearing from her throat as she endeavoured to control it, and she had no idea that her skin was flushed with sexual heat, or that her eyes held a dreamy almost witching moistness in the aftermath of passion.
Rafe wanted to roll her over onto her back and take his own pleasure in a series of long hard thrusts that would surely shock. Except he tamped down the desire, equally sure it would leave her hurting.
Unless he was mistaken, she’d had few partners, and unimaginative ones at that.
Or she was a superb actress. Something he very much doubted.
With care he disengaged, then slid to his feet and lifted her from the bed. ‘Let’s go shower.’
Danielle looked at him blankly for a few seconds, then realisation sank in. ‘I’m not sharing a shower with you.’
‘Yes,’ he drawled softly. ‘You are.’
He didn’t give her the option to protest further, merely swept an arm beneath her knees and carried her into the adjoining en suite.
‘Put me down!’
Danielle smote a clenched fist against his shoulder as he reached into the capacious tiled cubicle and adjusted the water-temperature dial.
‘Don’t you dare,’ she warned sibilantly as he calmly stepped in beside her and closed the glass door.
He was too close, too intimidating, too much. After what they’d just shared she didn’t want him in her face, and she particularly didn’t want to have him administer to her in any way.
‘Isn’t anything sacred…even my privacy?’ she demanded seconds later as he picked up the soap and began lathering her skin.
‘Get used to it,’ Rafe drawled as she attempted to twist away from him.
Without success, and she sent him a venomous glare that had no effect whatsoever. ‘I hate you!’
Hard fingers closed over her wrist before the fist she aimed at his ribcage could connect. ‘Don’t,’ he warned. ‘You won’t win.’
He had the height, the strength, to beat her at anything she chose to fling at him. Although she did possess an advantage or two…one she didn’t hesitate to use, only to have him block it in an instant.
A cry of outrage escaped her lips as he lifted her high against him and curved her legs around his waist.
Gone was any hint of amusement. In its place was hard implacability, and she felt a moment’s instinctive unease.
‘You want to play?’
The query held a silent warning she was too angry to heed, and without thought she lowered her mouth to his shoulder…and bit him hard.
Danielle heard his angry hiss at the same time she tasted blood, and she cried out as he hauled her high, her scream of pain very real as he rendered a love-bite to the tender underside of her breast.
When