Total pages in book: 159
Estimated words: 157450 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 787(@200wpm)___ 630(@250wpm)___ 525(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 157450 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 787(@200wpm)___ 630(@250wpm)___ 525(@300wpm)
Shit.
Make this last.
She moves. Slowly and hesitantly at first. But as her confidence builds, she finds her rhythm. I open my eyes as she rises once more, and this time I flex my hips, meeting her. Her cry is visceral and wakes every sense in my body.
Fuck. I grab her hips, moving her faster and faster. She’s panting. Short, sharp gasps for air. Gripping my arms. Her head lolling from side to side with each thrust of mine.
Head tipped back. Calling to the gods, she’s every inch a goddess. Her hold on my arms tightens, and she cries out and stills on top of me as she comes.
It’s enough to trigger my release, and I cry out, holding her to me as I come and come and come.
* * *
Alessia lies in the afterglow of their lovemaking. Maxim has his head on her stomach, his arms around her, as she runs her fingers idly through his hair. She loves the feel of his hair beneath her fingers. Her mother never gave any indication that the sexual act could be so pleasurable. Perhaps that is not the relationship she has with Baba. Alessia frowns. She doesn’t want to think about her parents having sex, but her mind wanders, and she remembers her grandmother, Virginia. Now, she married for love. They were happy. Even when they were older, her grandparents would exchange looks that made Alessia blush. Her nana’s was a marriage that she hoped to emulate. Not her parents’ marriage. They were never demonstrative with each other.
Maxim never hesitates to hold her hand or kiss her in public. And he talks to her. When has she ever sat for an evening and had a proper conversation with a man? Where she comes from, if a man talks to a woman for any length of time, it is considered by some to be a sign of weakness.
She glances at the little light-up dragon on the nightstand, a beacon in the darkness. He bought this for her because he knows she’s scared of the dark. He brought her here to protect her. He cooked for her. He bought her clothes. He made love to her….
Tears prick the corners of her eyes, and her heart overflows with uncertainty and longing, burning her throat with unspoken emotion. She loves him. Her fingers tighten in his hair as she’s overwhelmed by her feelings for him. He wasn’t angry with her when she told him she was betrothed. If anything, he was anxious that her heart might belong to another.
No. My heart is yours, Maxim.
And he was shocked that she thought he might beat her. Her hand goes automatically and instinctively to her cheek; her father is less of a talker, more of a man of action….
She runs her fingers over Maxim’s shoulder and traces the outline of his tattoo. She wants to know him better. Perhaps she should ask him more questions. He is evasive about his job. Maybe he has many? She shakes her head. It is not her place to question him. What would her mother say if she did? For now she will enjoy the little bubble that they share together in Cornwall.
Maxim nuzzles her belly and kisses it, distracting Alessia from her unsettling thoughts of home. He looks up at her, his eyes a vibrant emerald in the soft glow from the little dragon. “Stay with me,” he says.
She smooths his hair off his forehead and frowns. “I am staying with you.”
“Good,” he says, and he kisses her belly again, but his time his mouth moves lower…and lower.
* * *
I open my eyes as early-morning light seeps through the gaps in the blinds. I’m wrapped around Alessia. My head on her chest, my arm around her waist. The warmth and sweet smell of her skin invades my senses, and my body rises to greet her. Gently I nuzzle her neck, leaving drowsy kisses at her throat.
She rouses, her eyelids fluttering open.
“Good morning, princess,” I whisper.
She smiles, a sleepy, sated look on her face. “Good morning…Maxim.” Her tone is tender, and I think I hear her love in the way she says my name. Or maybe I’m imagining it because I want to hear it.
There. I want her love.
All of it.
I’m prepared to admit it to myself.
But can I admit it to her?
The whole day extends before us, open and free—and I’m with her. “Let’s spend the day in bed.” My voice is husky with sleep.
Her fingers skim my chin. “Are you tired?”
I grin. “No…”
“Oh,” she says, and her smile mirrors mine.
* * *
His tongue. His mouth. What he does to her. Alessia is lost in a storm of sensation. Her hands tighten on his wrists as she hangs on a precipice. She’s close. So close. He teases her again and again with his able tongue and gradually eases a finger inside her, and she falls, her orgasm ripping through her as she cries out.