Ally Blake - Bargaining with the Billionaire - The Blackmail Bargain / The Billion-Dollar Bride / How To Marry a Billionaire

Enslaved by his kisses, his slow, worshipful caresses, her mind drifted until all she was aware of was the sleek slide of his body against hers and the building excitement inside her—a different kind of tension, one she welcomed because Curt made it so easy.

His mouth and his hands discovered other pleasure points: the sensitive place where her throat joined her shoulder, a certain spot at the back of her neck. Some he kissed, some he nipped, slowly, exquisitely letting her become accustomed to his touch.

At last he said against the upper curve of her breast, ‘Not nervous any longer?’

‘No,’ she said languidly, afloat on a tide of honeyed delight. If she called a halt now she’d never forgive herself.

She lifted a heavy arm and buried her fingers in his hair, warm from his body, black against her skin. If he wanted to pull away she didn’t have a hope of holding him, but the pressure of her fingers reiterated her need and her desire and her surrender.

Peta waited, while his breath smoked across her skin, and then he smiled and turned his head slightly and his mouth closed around a pleading nipple.

The first strong tug of suction sent a sexual signal ripping through her; her body arched in astonished response, and a note of wonder broke in the back of her throat.

In one fluid movement Curt slid both arms beneath her back, holding her free of the sheet so that her breasts were offered to him while he resumed the drugging seduction.

Peta had never known such rapture. It swamped everything else, rioting through her in scintillating waves, setting her alight and anchoring her intensely in that bed, in Curt’s arms, willing prisoner of his mouth and hands and of the mastery of his lean, aroused body.

When he lifted his head she moaned in dismay, but this time it was to take her mouth, his open hunger displayed for the first time. She responded with ardent agreement, writhing against him, and eventually his hand found the flare of her hips, and delved further into the place that ached for him.

Peta pressed against that seeking hand, gasping when he set up a rhythm, gasping even more when his fingers entered her in a simulation of the intimacy she needed so desperately.

‘Please,’ she muttered helplessly into his neck. ‘Oh, please…’

‘You don’t need to ask,’ he said, his voice abrasive with barely leashed hunger. ‘I’m more than willing to please you.’

He positioned himself over her; she looked up into molten eyes and a face drawn into a hard, triumphant mask. For a moment her heart quailed; he filled her vision, blocking out the rest of the world so that all she could see was Curt.

And then he lowered himself and she felt his blunt probe at the passage that waited for him. Peta’s eyes widened as he eased slowly in. She swallowed.

The cords in his neck stood out. ‘All right?’

‘Oh, yes,’ she breathed, and hooked her arms around his shoulders and pulled herself up around him, enclosing and enfolding him, offering herself to him in the most basic, most primal way of all.

Blue fire swallowed every shard of grey in his eyes; his powerful shoulders flexed and he thrust hard and deep, taking her in one strong push that cracked Peta’s world open and forced her into another dimension.

Colours she had never seen before spun in front of her, unknown sensations ricocheted through her, and she cried out hoarsely and clutched him, fingers digging into his hide as she clenched muscles she hadn’t known to exist around the length of him.

‘Peta?’ he demanded, easing back.

She shuddered at the fierce intensity of his tone. ‘Don’t you dare stop,’ she commanded.

His expression relaxed and he kissed her and began to push again. ‘No,’ he said against her lips.

Peta learned that making love was like a dance, a smooth meshing of bodies, of rhythm, of movement, of breath and touch and the sounds of their loving—soft murmurings, the relentlessly increasing thud of their hearts. Tender when she wanted tenderness, erotically demanding when she needed that, but always in control, Curt led her along undiscovered pathways of passion until she shuddered and bit his shoulder and moaned deep and long, head flung back in pleasure so keenly sharp it was close to anguish because it wasn’t enough…

That was the moment everything changed; a rough, low sound was torn from his throat, and from then on there was nothing deliberate about his movement, nothing controlled or restrained.

Their bodies fought and melded, struggling to reach some unachievable goal in a primitive mating battle that led inexorably to wave after wave of pleasure so extreme she thought she might die of it.

And then a bigger, more dangerous wave caught her and tossed her up into an alternate universe where nothing but ecstasy existed, spreading through her in unbearable delight.

Dimly she heard herself cry out again before she was lost in Curt’s possession. Dimly she heard a guttural sound break from him when he too reached that place, and his big body went rigid and they moved together like a single entity.

And then the slow descent into dazed, exhausted peace sucked her into darkness.

She woke to a different darkness and lay in stunned stillness, trying to work out where she was. She was in her usual position, on one side. She was hot—but not with the usual heat of a summer night. This heat came from within her and beat against her.

Subtle sensory clues wove their way between her defences. A different feel to the bed—no movement, but she knew someone was beside her. When she opened her eyes the memories smashed through, and she recalled everything, from her surrender to those final moments when she’d convulsed with unmatched rapture in Curt’s arms.

CHAPTER EIGHT

FOR perhaps four heartbeats Peta clamped her eyes shut, longing to take refuge in cowardly sleep, until the practical streak she’d inherited from some unknown ancestor forced her to face the truth. She opened her eyes again.

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