Miranda Lee - In the Australian's Bed

At least he could touch her there. And his free hand stroked down the centre of her body and slid between her legs.

Her moan echoed his own feelings. Already she was panting, her legs growing restless, her hips writhing as a woman’s did when release was near. The selfish part of Jake wanted to stop so that he could be inside her. But experience warned him that things didn’t always work out that way for a woman. Better he give her a climax this way first.

‘Jake,’ she cried out, her eyes dilated and desperate.

His mouth crashed down onto hers, smothering her cries as she came apart under his hand. He kissed her with a desperation of his own, his tongue echoing what he would rather be doing to her with his body. Its job done, his hand moved to play with her breasts, his still wet fingertips encircling her taut nipples. Jake kept kissing her, and playing with her nipples, elated when in no time her back began to arch away from the bed in that tell-tale way. Moaning, she clung to him, her left leg lifting up onto his hip, inviting him in.

Jake needed no further invitation, groaning as his flesh slid home to the hilt. The sensations as he pumped into her were a mixture of agony and ecstasy, for he could not possibly last very long. Yet he wanted to, wanted to feel her come again with him inside her.

Her muffled moans were encouraging, as were the movements of her body. She followed his rhythm, her hips rising with his forward surge and sinking back when he withdrew. He stopping kissing her and cupped her face instead, looking deep into her glazed eyes.

He didn’t say a word, just concentrated on her, slowing his rhythm appreciably but going deeper with each stroke.

She gasped, then groaned.

‘Good?’ he asked.

She nodded, then grimaced.

He was in his stride now, no longer balancing on that dangerous edge, determined to make her come again. She drew in more sharply with each successive stroke, her mouth falling even wider apart. Her hands tightened around his back, her nails digging into his flesh.

He felt no pain, only pleasure. The pleasure of pleasing her.

Her climax was imminent. He could feel it, deep inside. The tightening. The quivering. The rush of heat that always preceded the first spasm.

‘Jake. Oh, Jake,’ she cried out, and then she was there. But so, astonishingly, was he. Instantly. Brilliantly.

Poets often spoke of stars exploding when two people in love made love. Jake always thought that was just so much crap.

But this time, it was not unlike stars exploding. His body trembled and his head did cartwheels. His mouth found hers again and he knew that this was where he wanted to be for the rest of his life. With her. No one else. Just Angelina. And he didn’t mean living together, either. He wanted her as his life partner. His wife.

Angelina Winters. Till death them did part.

It didn’t occur to Jake till much later, when he was lying quietly with her sleeping form in his arms, that Angelina might not be altogether cooperative in his achieving that goal.

‘I might not want what you want, Jake,’ she’d said to him earlier that day.

Jake thought about all she’d told him about herself so far. Her insistence that she was independent-minded career woman. Her claim to not want marriage and children.

And then he thought of her eyes today as he’d carried her into this bedroom.

Bulldust, he decided. All of that other stuff. Dorothy was right. Angelina had marriage and motherhood written all over her. She’d been burnt, that was all, by the wrong kind of man. Some sleazebag, probably. All it needed was the right kind of guy to come along, someone who really loved her.

‘ Me! ’ he pronounced out loud.

Jake still wasn’t sure about becoming a father, but heck, he hadn’t thought till now that he’d ever fall in love, or want to get married himself. But he did. And when Jake wanted something, he made it happen.

Angelina Mastroianni was going to be his wife, no matter what she thought she wanted. Because Jake knew what she really wanted. He’d seen it just now. And felt it. What he needed to do was make her feel it again. And again. And again. He had one weekend to cement his position in her life, and in her heart. Given that was a pretty short time span, Jake decided that the best way he could achieve that was through her body; her warm, luscious, possibly neglected body.

That pathetic boyfriend of hers hadn’t been doing the right thing by Angelina. Jake was sure of it. Which was fine by him. It gave him an advantage.

Just thinking about making love to her again turned him on. Retrieving a condom from where he’d shoved a few under the pillows, he slipped it on, amazed but pleased to see that he was as hard as he’d been earlier, confirming his belief that this was a once-in-a-lifetime relationship.

Scooping her naked body back against him in the spoon position, he gently stroked her breasts till she stirred in his arms, then his hand slid slowly further down her body.

‘Oh,’ she gasped when his fingers started softly teasing the centre of her pleasure.

But there was nothing soft, or gentle, in Jake’s mind. It was full of hard resolve, as hard as his desire-filled flesh.

As soon as she moaned, and began wriggling her bottom against him, he eased himself inside her from behind.

Angelina stiffened for a second, only to melt as soon as he started rocking back and forth inside her. She would never have conceived of making love like this, on their sides, with him pressed up against her back and his hands on her front, playing with her.

It was nothing like last time; that tender and romantic position where Jake had kissed her all the while and held her like a true lover. This was entirely different. This felt…decadent. Yet oh, so exciting.

Her head whirled as a wanton wildness overtook her.

‘Harder, Jake,’ she bit out in a voice she didn’t recognise. ‘Harder.’

He groaned, then increased his tempo.

‘Yes,’ she groaned, her body immediately rushing towards the abyss. ‘Oh, yes. Yeesss!’

CHAPTER TEN

ANGELINA knew she was in trouble the next morning. Deep, deep trouble.

It was not long after sunrise, Jake was still fast asleep in the bedroom and she was curled up on the red leather sofa, her naked body wrapped in Jake’s bathrobe, her hands cradling a not-too-hot mug of coffee, her eyes taking in the sun-drenched terrace, and the bridge beyond. The traffic on it was only light at this early hour, she noted.

But not for long. The day promised to be as bright and warm as yesterday.

Yesterday…

She took the mug away from her lips and sighed. Dear heaven, what had she done?

A small, dry laugh escaped her lips. What hadn’t she done? more like it. Her behaviour in bed was bad enough, but it hadn’t been confined to Jake’s bed, had it? She’d been bad in the spa bath as well, and in the kitchen whilst he’d been microwaving them a meal. And here in this very room, on the rug, in front of the television.

It was as though Jake’s making love to her that second time had released something in her, and suddenly she was hungry for it all. Every experience possible with Jake.

He hadn’t minded, of course. Though she’d had the impression he was a bit surprised at one stage. Not with what she did. Perhaps he was just surprised that she would what she did, and with such avidness.

But as much as Angelina was worried sick by where this would all end, she could find no real regrets in her heart for the actual events of last night. How could you regret something that made you feel the way she felt this morning? Like a real woman for a change. A desired and desirable woman who had been made love to very, very well.