once she’d calmed, he looked up at her face. Her eyes remained closed but those taut, tight lines were gone, her mouth full and soft, her expression relaxed.
No mask now. She looked younger, vulnerable. Heartbreakingly beautiful.
When was the last time he’d watched a lover climax? He couldn’t remember. He’d always been too into finding his own pleasure to watch someone find theirs.
There was a constriction in his chest. One that hadn’t been there before.
With an effort, he forced the feeling away because hell, he wasn’t done yet.
He shifted, reaching over to one of the limo’s many storage cupboards set into the door, finding the stash of condoms he always kept in there. Bringing one out he debated getting her to do the honors, then discarded the idea. Her mouth had just about blown his head off and he was too close to the edge.
Ripping the packet open, he tossed the foil, then protected himself.
Then he reached for her, gathering all her relaxed warmth into his arms before sitting back, bringing her into his lap.
She’d opened her eyes by this time, blinking at him, registering slowly where she was and what was happening.
The weight of her on him was perfect, the wet heat of her pussy pressing against his cock, pushing him even closer to the edge.
Her face was flushed a deep rose, her breathing fast and shallow. Her lipstick smudged, her mascara running. She didn’t look like the Victoria de Winter who’d walked into his meeting room an hour or so earlier. Cool and calm and tough as nails. No, this Victoria was soft and hot and panting. No mask. No ice. And this time, no control.
He met her gaze. “Yes?”
She didn’t reply. Instead she lifted her hips and slid down onto him as easily and gracefully as if they’d been doing this for years.
As if she’d been made especially for him.
The heat of her closed around him and for a second he couldn’t think. Couldn’t even move. Could only watch as her mouth opened in a soundless gasp, her eyes widening, pleasure unfurling over her face. “Oh … Donovan …”
His name had never sounded so erotic. Hearing it shredded what was left of his control.
He gripped her hips, beginning to move. Setting a hard, driving rhythm. Watching her as he did so, her pupils dilating into blackness. She looked dazed, like this was new to her, and shit, he knew how she felt. This intensity, this feeling, was new to him, too.
Not a good thing …
But no, he didn’t want to think about that, so he didn’t. Only moved harder, faster. Her hands on his shoulders, her fingers digging in, holding onto to him like she was drowning. Then her lashes fell shut, her eyes closing tight, her mouth opening, a cry of what sounded like anguish tearing from her throat as her body arched, her hands, her knees, her pussy clamping down on him like a vise as she came.
It was only then that he let his own mask slip, her orgasm detonating his own. And he had to close his eyes in the end because it was too much, too intense, pleasure exploding around him, annihilating every single thought in his head.
It took a long time to come back to himself afterward, as if somehow his soul had slipped its moorings and got free. Gone somewhere else. Somewhere he didn’t remember.
When he opened his eyes again, he found her staring at him as if she’d never seen him before in all her life.
“What have you done to me?” she whispered.
Chapter 4
As soon as the words came out of her mouth, Victoria knew she shouldn’t have said them. They sounded too needy. Revealed far too much. Also, it really wasn’t him she should be asking it of.
The question she should have been asking was what had she done to herself.
Because it had gotten out of hand, this little power game. And instead of winning, conquering like she expected, it felt horribly like it was Donovan who’d ended up with the upper hand.
The pleasure had been … devastating. She’d never experienced anything like that before.
Muhammad Yunus, Alan Jolis