No sooner had it started than he broke the kiss, keeping her pinned to the wall with his strength, his thumbs running in swirls over her cheeks, his brown eyes dark with intensity.
‘I have never been closer to ripping a woman’s dress off and taking her in public than I was in that ballroom,’ he said roughly.
A pulse ran through her, deliciously powerful. In answer, she nuzzled into his hand and kissed his palm.
He stepped back, trailing his fingers down her neck to the edge of her dress, his breathing heavy. ‘We’re almost at my apartment.’
They set off again to the end of the corridor, walking at a speed only a tiny rate below a run, until they came to a spiralling marble staircase with a heavy rope barrier across the base of it. Talos moved it swiftly, indicating for her to go up. At the top was a small passage with a door at the end and a small security box by the side. He punched in the code and the door swung open.
Lights came on with the motion and Amalie found herself in an enormous masculine living space, richly furnished with plump charcoal-coloured sofas against a backdrop of muted blues and creams. The room’s walls were covered in huge colourful paintings.
There was no time for looking with depth. Talos threw his jacket, sash and bow tie on the floor and guided her through the living area and into a bedroom dominated by the largest bed she’d ever seen—an enormous sleigh bed with intricate carvings.
On the wall opposite the door stood a floor-length mirror, edged with the same intricately carved wood. Catching sight of her reflection, she came to a stop.
Was that woman staring back at her with the flushed cheeks and wild eyes really her? Amalie? The woman who had formed a cosy life for herself while shying away from everything this man—this gorgeous man—was offering her? The man staring at her with a hunger she had only ever seen in films.
Transfixed, she watched as he stepped behind her, not touching her other than to place his hands on the tops of her arms. A small moan escaped her throat when he dropped a kiss in the arch of her neck.
Swaying lightly, she let her eyes flutter closed and sighed as his fingers swept across her shoulder blades and down her spine to rest at the top her dress.
Bending his head to kiss her ear and brush his lips lightly against her temple, he found and unfastened the hidden hook, then pinched the concealed zipper and slowly pulled it down, all the way to the base of her spine. His hands slid back up the exposed flesh to the top of the dress, then skimmed it assuredly down to her hips, exposing her bare breasts. When he released his hold on it the dress fell in a lazy whoosh to her feet, leaving her naked bar skimpy black knickers and gold shoes.
He wrapped an arm around her middle and held her against him, so she could lift her feet one at a time and step out of the vast amount of material. Talos kicked the dress away, then met her eyes in the reflection of the mirror, a dangerous, lustful glimmer in his stare.
Her chest thrust forward, almost begging for his touch.
The hand holding her so protectively brushed over her stomach and up her side, circling round her breasts to trace along her collarbone and up her neck to the base of her head. Slowly he worked at the elegant knot of her hair until he freed it, gently pulling it down to sprawl across her shoulders.
‘Have you had many lovers, little songbird?’ he asked, inhaling the scent of her hair.
Speech had deserted her; all she was capable of doing was shaking her head.
‘Have you had any lovers?’
The second shake of her head had more force behind it, but inside she reeled.
Was her virginity that obvious?
He must have read the question in her expression. ‘I am an expert at reading between lines,’ he said enigmatically, before twisting her round to face him. He ran his thumb over her bottom lip. ‘Why don’t we even things up and you undress me?’
With hands that trembled, she reached for the top button of his shirt, fumbled with it, then found some dexterity and undid it, then the next. Working quickly, aware of the heaviness of his breathing, she undid them all, then spread the shirt open. Not even conscious of what she was about to do, she pressed her lips to his chest and breathed him in, inhaling the muskiness that evoked thoughts of dark forests and adrenaline-filled danger.
His chest rose and swelled, his hand reaching into her hair and gathering it in his fingers.
Her fingers trailed down the thickening black hair to his abdomen and found the hook fastening his hand-stitched trousers. She swallowed as the palm of her hand felt the heat beneath. She unhooked it, but then her nerve deserted her. Suddenly a burst of sanity crashed through the lustful haze she’d been entranced in.
She’d never touched a man intimately before.
She wanted to touch Talos with a need bordering on desperation, but for the first time her virginity was something she was wholly aware of.
How could she be anything but a disappointment to him? A man as rampantly masculine as Talos would have had scores of lovers, all confident in their bodies and sexuality.
Talos felt Amalie’s hesitation, felt the fear creep through her.
His suspicions about her being a virgin had been right. He would have been more surprised to learn she’d had any lovers.
He didn’t care about her reasons for never having had a lover; cared only that at this moment she was here, with him, and that the crazy chemistry between them could be acted upon. Amalie wasn’t on the hunt for a relationship any more than he was; her comment about marriage only being a piece of paper had concurred with his own thoughts entirely.
But confirmation of her virginity did force him to take a deep breath and try to cool his ardour. All prior thoughts of simply discarding their clothes and falling into bed were gone. He needed to take it slow. He didn’t want to hurt her. By the time he made her his he wanted her so turned on but also relaxed, he could enter her without causing any pain.
Gently he twisted her back to face the mirror, placing an arm around her belly. Her eyes closed and her head rolled back to rest on his shoulder, her breath coming in tiny hitches. He could feel her heartbeat hammering with an identical rhythm to his own.
Moving quickly, he unzipped his trousers with his free hand and worked them off, deliberately keeping his boxers on so the temptation to plunge himself straight into her could be more easily denied.
Done, he pressed himself into the small of her back, felt her tremble, saw her lips part in a silent moan.
‘Open your eyes,’ he commanded quietly into her ear.
They fluttered open and met his gaze in the reflection of the mirror.
His fingers played on the lace of her knickers and then tugged them down, delighting to find the dark silky hair below. He dipped a finger into her heat and groaned when he found her moist and swollen.
Keeping the pressure there light and rhythmical, he splayed his other hand upwards and captured a raised breast. It fitted perfectly into his hand. He could hardly wait to taste it, to taste every part of her but before he could take her into his arms and carry her to his bed her back arched, her groin pressed hard against his finger and she stiffened. He watched in awe at their reflection. Her eyes were tightly closed, her lips parted, her cheeks flushed. Then she shuddered and became limp in his arms. If she hadn’t been secure against him, he had no doubt she would have fallen to the floor.
He’d never seen or felt anything like it—such a primal, animalistic response. It filled him with something he couldn’t name...could only feel, gripping his chest.
Keeping her pressed tight against him, he turned her enough to lift her into his arms.
There was no resistance; her eyes gazed into his, dazed bewilderment ringing out. When she reached a hand to press a palm to his cheek he swallowed, his heart beating so fast it had become a painful thrum.
He laid her down o
n the bed and shrugged his open shirt off, discarding it on the floor.
She’d covered her breasts. He took hold of her hands and carefully parted them, exposing her full nakedness to him.
To his eyes, Amalie was perfect—her arms and legs toned and smooth, her skin soft, her breasts high, ripe peaches, begging to be tasted.
Bringing his head down to hers, he captured her lips. She returned his kiss with passion, her tongue sweeping into his mouth, her hot, sweet breath flowing into his senses. Her hands reached for his head and razed through his hair.
As he deepened the kiss he stroked his fingers down her body, exploring the soft skin, delighting in the mews escaping her throat.
Breaking the kiss, he ran his lips down her throat and lower, to her breasts, capturing one in his mouth...
Theos.
For the first time since his teenage years he was on the verge of losing control already. He had never felt so constricted by his boxer shorts, the tight cotton material as tight a barrier as steel.
But she tasted so good, of a sweet, feminine essence his senses reacted to. Not just his senses. Every part of him reacted to it.
‘Is something wrong?’ she whispered, uncertainty in her voice.
‘No,’ he promised, dragging his mouth back up to her lips and kissing her again. ‘Everything is perfect.’
Her hands grabbed at his face, her fingers kneading his cheeks before sweeping over his neck and chest and down to his abdomen. This time she didn’t hesitate, pushing under the cotton to lightly touch the head of his erection.
Her kisses stopped and she sucked in a breath.
‘It doesn’t bite,’ he teased, smoothing her hair off her forehead.
Her lips twitched into a shy smile and she burrowed her face into his neck before her tongue darted out to lick his skin. She rubbed her leg against him, all the while slowly trailing her fingers down his length, which throbbed madly under her gentle ministrations. She made no attempt to take hold of it, seemingly content simply to stroke and explore. That this only made him harder than ever—something he had not thought possible—only added to his painful ardour. If he didn’t find some release soon he feared he might actually combust.
‘I don’t use birth control,’ she whispered into his neck.
‘I didn’t think you did,’ he assured her, moving her hand away so he could lean over to his bedside table, where he dimly remembered throwing a packet of condoms into a drawer. They were still there. He pulled one out and ripped the foil off, all the time keeping his focus on Amalie, who had sat up and was now exploring his chest with her fingers, the expression on her face something close to rapture.
Kissing her first, he got off the bed and tugged his boxers down.
She met his eyes and swallowed.
‘Don’t be scared,’ he murmured, kneeling back on the bed and gently pushing her flat, so her head rested on the pillow and she was laid out beneath him.
Her smile was dazzling. ‘I’m not.’
He kissed her again, then disentangled her arms, which had hooked around his neck at the first press of his lips.
Working swiftly, he securely rolled the condom on, then knelt between her parted thighs. He brushed his hands over her beautiful downy hair, a thrill racing through him to feel her damp heat all over again, his arousal increasing when she bucked upwards to meet his touch.
Then, moving slowly, he laid himself on top of her, taking care not to put his full weight on her. Moving even slower, he guided his erection to the welcome warmth of her opening.
Her hands gripped his shoulders, her nails digging into his flesh.
Her eyes were screwed tight shut.
‘Look at me, little songbird,’ he said, stroking her cheek.
She opened her eyes. That dazed look had returned to them.
He pushed forward a little more, clenching his teeth as he stopped himself from driving in any deeper. Amalie had never done this before. If he were to do what he so desperately wanted and simply plunge deep inside her he would hurt her, no matter how hot and wet she was for him.
Theos, she felt so tight.
He inched forward some more, giving her time to adjust before pressing a little further. Each new push forward elicited the same gasp from her lips: a hitch of surprised pleasure.
As he continued to inch slowly into her he brushed his lips against hers, relishing the short, ragged breaths she breathed back into him.
When he was fully sheathed inside her he paused to catch his own breath and closed his eyes, forcing his mind to think of something—anything—other than what they were doing at that moment.
But no matter how hard he tried, even with his eyes firmly shut, all he could see was Amalie.
She shifted slightly beneath him, her hands moving from his shoulders to trail down his back, causing thrills of shivers racing down his spine.
Only when he was sure he had control of himself did he withdraw—not all the way, but enough so that when he pushed back he had to grit his teeth more to retain his control.
This was torture. The most divine torture he had ever known.
For the first time in his life he truly wished he could make love without the barrier of a condom, to experience every single aspect of it.
He withdrew a little further, pressed back a little deeper.
Once he was certain Amalie had adjusted to this whole new experience, and that there was no discomfort for her, he allowed himself to settle into a rhythm, all the while telling himself to be gentle, to make this special for her.
He’d never experienced anything like it. Every thrust felt as if he were diving deeper into some unknown abyss, one filled with beautiful, dream-evoking colour.
There was something so pure about her responses. Nothing was for effect; everything—all her touches, all her kisses, all her soft moans—was an expression of how she was feeling at that moment and the pleasure she was taking from their lovemaking.
When he gripped her bottom and raised it, just enough to let him penetrate a little deeper, her cry into his mouth was the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard. Even though he was desperate for his own relief he held on, keeping the rhythm that had her tossing her head from left to right and made her breath shallow. Then he felt her thicken around him, felt her pulsing at the same moment she breathed out his name and clung to him, burying her face in his neck as her orgasm made her whole body vibrate and shudder.
He held on, waiting until her climax was spent, then raised himself onto his knees and spread her thighs further apart. He wanted to look at her, to drown in those emerald eyes. Placing one hand on her shoulder and the other on her breasts, he upped the tempo, thrusting in and out, gazing at her beautiful face, her wide eyes, her red-kissed lips, revelling in the little pulses that still came from within her, until he took one final, long thrust and his world exploded in colour.
When the jolts racketing through him finally abated his face was buried in Amalie’s hair, which was sprawled over the pillow like a fan. Her arms were locked tightly round him; the only sound was the heavy thudding beat of their hearts.
Lethargy spread through him and he eased himself off her, something dim in the back of his sluggish mind reminding him he had the condom to dispose of. Dragging himself off the bed, he could feel her eyes on him as he padded to the bathroom.
He returned a few moments later, his chest tightening to see she’d slipped under the silk sheets. A shy smile played on her lips.
He hadn’t thought this through. As a rule, he didn’t bring women to his palace apartment, preferring to conduct his affairs in the privacy of his villa, or wherever in the world he happened to be.
It suddenly dawned on him that not only had he broken his unwritten rule of not conducting an affair within the palace walls, but he’d also run from Helios’s ball
. It was inconceivable that his absence would go unnoticed.
He couldn’t bring himself to care. His grandfather was in bed and his brothers would understand. They’d both had their heads turned by beautiful women over the years. The ball was for Helios, and to a lesser extent for Theseus—not for him. He would never need to marry. The burden of continuing the Kalliakis dynasty was in his brothers’ hands.
Now that the flush of lust had been satisfied he should get dressed, get a chauffeur to take Amalie back to the cottage. Except...
She stretched under the covers, that smile still playing on her lips. ‘Can we do that again?’
* * *
Amalie pulled Talos’s shirt, discarded on the floor the evening before, closer around her, catching a wonderful whiff of his woody scent. She sighed dreamily.
That had to count as the most wonderful night of her life.
It amazed her to think she’d spent so long denying this sensual side of herself, marvelled that it had ever scared her. What had she been so frightened of? How could such pleasure be terrifying?
She gazed at Talos sleeping, from her vantage point of the bay window, where she’d settled herself earlier. She’d woken with the sun, the buzz in her blood from their passionate night still alive in her veins, zinging too loudly for her to fall back into sleep. Usually she did everything she could to eke out as much sleep as she could muster. But not today.
The view from his bedroom window was stunning, overlooking the palace maze. In the distance lay the open-air theatre the gala was to be held in—an enormous round dome, cut into the ground like something from Middle Earth. Judging by the view, and the fact that if she craned her neck she could see turrets in the distance, she figured his apartment must be in the far left tower of the palace.
The view from the window was nothing compared to the vision on the bed, curled on his side, one arm splayed out where she had been sleeping, as if he’d been seeking her. She wanted nothing more than to crawl back under the covers, but was determined to hold back and let him sleep. After all their lovemaking he would be exhausted.
Talos Claims His Virgin Page 12
