“If it’s half as much as I hungered for you, and they were half as excruciating as mine, then…serves you right.”
He grunted a sound so carnal and predatory yet amused, sowed a chain of nips from her lips to her nipples in chastisement as he dragged her dress down. It snagged on her hips.
He reversed his efforts, tried to get it over her head, and she hissed, “Rip it.”
His eyes widened. Then with a growl, he ripped the white satin in two. She lurched and moaned, relishing his ferocity, fueling it.
He swept her underwear down her legs, then stood to fling away his jacket, cummerbund and tie then gave her a violent strip-show shredding of his shirt. Candlelight cast a hypnotic glow to accompany his performance. Passion rose from her depths at the savage poetry of his every straining muscle. To her disappointment, he kept his pants on.
Before she could beg him to complete his show, he came down before her, buried his face in her flesh, in her core, muttered love and lust. When she was begging for him, he rose with her wrapped around him, took her to bed, laid her on her back on its edge, kneeled between her thighs, probed her with deft fingers.
He growled his satisfaction as her slick flesh gripped them. “Do you know what it does to me-to feel you like this, to have this privilege, this freedom? Do you know what it means to me, that you let me, that you want me, that you’re mine?”
Sensation rocketed, more at the emotion and passion fueling his words than at his expert pleasuring. She keened, opened herself fully to him, now willing to accept pleasure any way he gave it, knowing he craved her surrender, her pleasure. She’d always give him all he wanted.
He came over her, thrust his tongue inside her mouth to the rhythm of his invading fingers, his thumb grinding her bud in escalating circles. He swallowed every whimper, every tremulous word, every tear, until she shuddered apart in his arms.
She collapsed, nerveless and sated. For about two minutes.
Then she was all over him, kissing, licking, nipping and kneading him through his pants. He rasped, “Release me.”
She lowered the zipper with shaking hands. Her mouth watered as he sprang heavy and hard into her palms. He groaned in a bass voice that spilled magma from her core, “Play with me, mi amor. Own me. I’m yours.”
“And do you know what hearing you say this means to me?” she groaned back.
He growled as her hands traveled up and down his shaft, pumping his potency in delight. She slithered down his body, tasted him down to his hot, smooth crown. His scent, taste and texture made her shudder with need for all of him. She spread her lips over him, took all she could of him inside. He grunted his ecstasy, thrust his mighty hips to her suckling rhythm.
His hand in her hair stopped her. “I need to be inside you.”
She clambered over him, kissing her way to his lips, “And I need you inside me. Don’t you dare go slow or gentle…please…”
With that last plea, she found herself on her back beneath him, impaled, filled beyond capacity, complete, the pleasure of his occupation insupportable. “Cybele, mi amor, mi vida,” he breathed into her mouth, as he gave her what she’d been disintegrating for, with the exact force and pace that had her thrashing in pleasure, driving deeper and deeper into her, until he nudged her womb.
Her world imploded into a pinpoint of shearing sensation, then exploded in one detonation after another of bone-rattling pleasure. He fed her convulsions, slamming into her, pumping her to the last abrading twitches of fulfillment.
Then he surrendered to his own climax, and the sight and sound of him reaching completion inside her, the feel of his body shuddering over hers with the force of the pleasure he’d found inside her, his seed jetting into her core, filling her to overflowing, had her in the throes of another orgasm until she was weeping, the world receding as pleasure overloaded her.
She came to, to Rodrigo kissing her, worry roughening his voice. “Cybele, mi alma, por favor, open your eyes.”
Her lids weighed tons, but she opened them to allay his anxiety. “I thought you knocked me senseless the first time because it was the first time. Seems it’s going to be the norm. Not that you’ll hear anything but cries for an encore from this end.”
She felt the tension drain from his body, pour into the erection still buried inside her. His gaze probed her tear-drenched face, proprietary satisfaction replacing the agitation in eyes that gleamed with that Catalan imperiousness. “In that case, prepare to spend half of our married life knocked senseless.”
She giggled as he wrapped her nerveless body around him and prowled to the bathroom. He took her into the tub, already filled, laid her between his thighs, her back to his front, supporting her as she half floated. He moved water over her satiated body, massaging her with it as he did with his legs and lips. She hummed with the bliss reverberating in her bones.
She would have taken once with him, would have lived on the memory forever. But this was forever. It was so unbelievable that sometimes she woke up feeling as if she were suffocating, believing that it had all been a delusion.
She had serious security issues. This perfection was making her more scared something would happen to shatter it all.
He sighed in contentment. “Mi amor milagrosa.”
She turned her face into his chest, was about to whisper back that it was he who was the miracle lover when a ring sounded from the bedroom. The center calling.
He exhaled a rough breath. “They’ve got to be kidding.”
She turned in his arms. “It has to be something major, if they’re calling you on your wedding night. You have to answer.”
He harrumphed as he rose, dried himself haphazardly and went to answer. He came back frowning. “Pile up, serious injuries. Son and wife of an old friend among them.” He drove his fingers in his hair. “¡Maldita sea! I only started making love to you.”
“Hey. Surgeon here, too, remember? Nature of the beast.” She left the tub, dried quickly, hugged him with both arms-an incredible sensation. “And you don’t have to leave me behind. Let me come. I hear from my previous employers that I was a damn good surgeon. I can be of use to you and the casualties.”
His frown dissolved, until his smile blinded her with his delight. “This isn’t how I visualized spending our wedding night, mi corazon. But having you across a table in my OR is second on my list only to having you wrapped all around me in my bed.”
After the emergency, during which their intervention was thankfully lifesaving, they had two weeks of total seclusion on his estate.