Captive in the SpotlightBlackmailed Bride, Innocent Wife

by Annie West

  ‘Good.’ His lips curled into a slow, sultry smile that, despite everything, made her insides turn over and her heart patter. Was she going mad to react so?

  ‘Come here, cara.’ His voice was a stroke of velvet, barely concealing an immutable will.

  ‘Now?’ She couldn’t prevent the catch in her voice as fear overcame desperate bravado. Her fingers clutched frantically at the back of the sofa.

  ‘Now.’ He held out one hand.

  Looking into the steely depths of his stare, Alissa read an intent that panicked her.

  ‘Not here!’

  ‘Here. Now.’ He gestured imperiously, commanding her presence.

  He couldn’t be serious! She flicked a horrified glance at the door. ‘Anyone could come in.’

  ‘My staff have retired for the night. Besides, no one enters this room without my express permission.’ He paused and Alissa swallowed as she read the predatory hunger in his face. She’d never felt so small, so vulnerable.

  ‘Unless you wish to back out of our arrangement.’ His face tightened, making him look more austerely remote than ever. And more compelling.

  He meant it. Absolutely, unequivocally.

  That was all it took for cold, hard fury to fill her.

  Damn Dario Parisi and his unholy bargain, his superior air and his demands for satisfaction. She’d give him satisfaction all right. Somehow, despite her inexperience she’d manage and in the process she’d show him how much she despised him. Then when she had his money, when Donna was on her way to the U.S., she’d...

  ‘Alissa.’ It was a breath of air, a whisper of sensuous promise. A command.

  Gleaming eyes held hers and awareness pulsed between them. She ignored it, delving into the well of indignation that lent her strength to stalk across the room.

  * * *

  Dario barely had time to register satisfaction at her capitulation. Suddenly there she was, soft curves pressing close, her evocative lily scent drugging his senses. Thought atrophied as his libido roared into top gear and every drop of blood rushed south.

  She snagged his silk bow-tie in one hand, tugged it undone then ripped it off. The action sucked his breath from his lungs in startled delight. His body tightened predictably as her hands moved to his shirt.

  Buttons followed. She was like a dynamo, a whirlwind. He read savage intensity in her small, set face. Not once did she raise her eyes to his. Yet the feel of her neat hands yanking his jacket from his shoulders, reefing his shirt free, aroused him more than he’d thought possible. Only a supreme effort of will held him still, letting her have her way instead of reciprocating. Soon...

  She ripped his shirt open and pushed it from his shoulders. Her hands, warm and erotically supple, paused. Her palms slid down, following the swell of muscles. There was a sharp intake of breath and she snatched her hands away as if singed.

  It didn’t surprise him. He was burning up. Never had he stood passive as a lover stripped him ruthlessly, almost desperately. It was profoundly arousing. His desire was a voracious hunger, an explosive force.

  Dario reached out, unable to wait to claim her. It didn’t matter what she’d done or why she’d agreed. All that mattered was that she was his. This was more than revenge, more even than desire. This was raw and elemental.

  The velvet at her waist was exquisitely soft, but not as soft as her skin. He clamped his hands round her tiny form and dragged her up till she was plastered against his bare chest. She felt like the promise of paradise.

  She’d feel better naked.

  He smiled as he bent to claim her mouth. That lush, siren’s mouth he’d dreamt of so often.

  ‘No!’ She wrenched her face from his hold.

  She was refusing him! In that instant he felt he’d implode, so all-consuming was his craving.

  Then she planted an open-mouthed kiss on his collar-bone and he quaked. Her hands slid down his chest, scraping his nipples and dragging out a groan of longing. Fire shot to his belly. He was so hard, just at the touch of her lips and hands on his bare flesh. He teetered on the verge of losing control.

  He fumbled to drag up the skirt of her dress. Velvet bunched in his fingers then slipped as her hands went to his trousers. Lightning shot through him. At the touch of her fingers on his belt his belly contracted. His lungs were on fire, each breath scouring his chest.

  He’d expected their union to be spectacular but he hadn’t been ready for this cataclysm of sensation. It was exquisite torture as she slipped his belt undone, her fingers provocatively hesitant as she reached for the fastening of his trousers.

  Her face was obscured as she kept her head down, watching her hands at work. Finally the fabric fell and he sucked in a thankful breath. He lifted his hands to tug her hair undone but she was too fast. Before he could touch her she was kneeling, undoing his shoelaces.

  Potent, erotic images filled his brain as he watched her slide off his shoes, socks, trousers. Images of her pleasuring him with her luscious mouth, her delicate, nimble fingers. He choked back a growl of need, feeling his body race into overdrive.

  She’d bewitched him. That was the only explanation. The longer she knelt, head bowed, the harder it was to wrest his mind to any sort of cogent thought. When he had mastery of himself again he’d resent the power she wielded over him. For now he intended to enjoy it.

  He grasped her shoulders and pulled her up. His eyes closed as he cupped her neat, rounded bottom and pulled her close. His pelvic thrust against her feminine softness was urgent, instinctive. Bliss.

  ‘Let your hair down.’ It was a hoarse plea that emerged as a growled command. He couldn’t manage it. It was all he could do to hold himself still. He wanted this to last more than the twenty seconds it would take to rip her underwear off and thrust inside her.

  The drumming beat of his need was the only sound as she reached up and dragged out hairpins. Seconds later her hair, long tresses of fire, coiled around her shoulders and further, to rest like a silken invitation across her breasts. How would it look against her pale bare skin? He had to find out.

  Drawing on every scintilla of strength he’d once taken for granted, he stepped back half a pace. He shuddered at the loss of body contact. But soon...

  He reached for her zip, reefed it down in one desperate jerk, then gathered her skirts in his fists and lifted the dress over her head. His breath ceased as velvet spilled to the floor. He lowered his hands, drinking her in.

  She was perfect. Skin like moonlight. So pale and luminous he was almost scared to touch her with his big hands. Her breasts were high and full, her waist a bare hand span, her hips a swell of invitation. Her hair fell in glorious waves around her breasts.

  She looked like a mermaid, a Venus, an angel.

  Women came to him in silks and diaphanous laces. In sexy bustiers and suspender belts. Alissa wore unadorned cotton. In a deep indigo, it was the perfect foil for her milky skin. And on her legs, lace-topped stay-up stockings. The sight of silky white thighs above sexy dark hosiery was so erotic. She had spectacular legs. She was spectacular everywhere. Satisfaction thrummed in his blood.

  ‘Look at me, Alissa.’ Slowly she raised her head. Her lips were firm, rosy curves. Her chin tilted regally, baring her slender neck. Her eyes blazed azure fire.

  It took a lust-hazed moment to realise it wasn’t the burn of desire. That the angle of her jaw was a challenge, not an invitation. That her lips were primmed, not pouting.

  Disbelief tugged at his consciousness. Something like guilt burned acid in his gut. No, not guilt, he assured himself quickly. Alissa was here by choice. She wanted what he had to offer. He wasn’t taking advantage of her.

  And yet...

  And yet everything revolted at the idea of her deigning to pleasure him. This connection between them was mutual. From the first he’d known it. Even now, despite her air of icy self-possession, she couldn’t conceal the rapid pulse at the base of her throat, nor her uneven breathing. She felt it too, though she tried to hide it.


  And she was going to admit it.

  ‘On the sofa.’ The words were a rough order. It was a blow to his ego that he’d stood, a shaking, desperate man, putty in her hands, while she’d kept her mental distance.

  He stooped to retrieve a condom from his wallet then took off his boxer shorts. The slide of fabric over his groin exacerbated his anger and his determination. He was so aroused one touch from her would send him over the edge.

  He turned and stalked to where she sat primly, knees together, hair a glowing curtain concealing her breasts. That was even more exciting than if she’d been spread naked before him.

  Dario pulsed with need and saw her eyes widen as she took in the sight of him, completely bare and hungry for her. Did he imagine it or did she shrink back? No matter. Soon she wouldn’t shy from his touch, she’d beg for it.

  He felt his smile as a taut stretch of muscles when he knelt before her and put the condom within reach.

  ‘What...?’ Her voice petered out as he wrapped his hand round her ankle. So slim, so delicate.

  He lowered his mouth to her leg as he unbuckled the tiny strap. Silk stockings and even silkier skin that contracted in shivery ripples as he slid his lips along it. Deftly he slipped off her shoe, taking her foot in his hands as he kissed her calf all the way to her knee. She shifted but he held her, massaging with his thumbs as he kissed back down to her ankle.

  Her breathing changed, became deeper. The tension in her muscles eased as his massage relaxed her, made her more aware of physical sensation. He smiled against her instep then moved to her other foot. This time as he progressed with hot kisses up her leg he heard her gasp of pleasure, quickly stifled.

  Now both shoes were discarded, he allowed himself access to her thighs. With just a little pressure they fell apart before him and he had to take a moment to focus on his plan. Not to seize immediate gratification but to pleasure her till she relinquished the last of her obstinate self-possession.

  Yet it was a moot point who got most pleasure as he trailed caresses up her thigh. His heart pounded so loud it was a miracle she couldn’t hear it. At the top of her stocking he slipped a finger under the elastic and swiped his tongue along the lace mark, pleased at her tiny jump of reaction. She tasted honey-sweet. Her single mew of pleasure urged him on, upwards, till the scent of feminine musk tingled in his nostrils.

  Resisting temptation, he pressed only the lightest of kisses against flesh-warmed cotton, before caressing her other thigh with his lips, tongue and fingers.

  Her languorous ease vanished. Her muscles grew taut. Smiling, he moved up again, lingering a moment to tease her through the fabric of her panties, before sliding his mouth up over her belly to her navel and higher.

  It was heaven here, enfolded by her smooth thighs, right at her centre. He buried his face in her long hair, revelling in its fine texture and fresh scent. It spilled through his fingers, an erotic caress against palms already sensitised by contact with velvet-soft skin.

  But beneath it was treasure. He released her bra and pulled it away, nuzzling those long tresses aside to discover her pink and white flesh.

  The ruched peak of her nipple was beneath his tongue then in his mouth as he suckled strongly. A rapier blade of need sliced through him. He was lost in pleasure.

  The swell of her other breast enticed him. He tugged at her nipple with thumb and forefinger while he bit down gently on the other one and was rewarded with a shiver of response. Did she know she thrust herself higher into his embrace with each lap of his tongue?

  ‘Do you like that, Alissa?’

  Her eyes glittered feverishly as she struggled for breath. Was she ready to admit to this force between them?

  ‘Yes.’ It was a sob and it was music to his ears. He’d needed to hear her say it and know this was mutual.

  Only after he’d drawn sighs of shuddering pleasure from her did he lift himself higher. Her breasts cushioned his chest as he kissed her hair, her closed eyes. He licked the outline of her ear and nipped its sensitive lobe.

  Dario hoped she felt half the excruciating pleasure he did from this druggingly slow lovemaking. His body strained to breaking point as he leashed his urgent lust. Never had it been so difficult to restrain himself.

  Finally he felt the slide of small fingers at his waist, his back, his shoulders. Triumph and relief warred as he bent again to do homage at her breasts. Her hands tunnelled through his hair, grabbing him close.

  Alissa shifted restlessly under him and he arrowed a hand down, beneath the indigo cotton, now satisfyingly damp to the touch. Unerringly he found her sensitive nub of pleasure, teasing it with light strokes till she rose helplessly against his every touch.

  Never had a woman’s response been so powerfully erotic. So satisfying. So arousing. She clamped his face to her breast and her body curved up to his in abandon as if all she thought, all she knew was him.

  Yes!

  Alissa moaned a protest as he dragged himself back, gulping breaths into his air-starved lungs.

  She was the most glorious sight, eyes narrowed to gleaming, provocative slits. Her lips were parted and swollen even though he hadn’t yet tasted them. Her hair splayed, a wash of copper and rust streaked with gold, across the dark blue upholstery. And her breasts...

  ‘Please.’ Even her voice was a throaty invitation.

  Reluctantly he pulled back. ‘Patience, little one.’

  Swiftly he retrieved the foil package, fitting the condom with a speed born of urgency. He tugged down her panties. She shimmied her hips to ease the way and his belly cramped in excitement. Soon...

  When he rose again she was naked, a triangle of russet hair hiding her feminine secrets. The scent of her arousal filled his senses. Very soon he’d learn those secrets. Lowering his head, he dragged his tongue over the path his fingers had followed.

  She shuddered into desperate life, her legs clamping his head then falling away as if abandoning the effort.

  ‘Please. Dario.’ She urged him higher. He caressed her again, exulting in her response as her hips tilted and she shivered all around him.

  ‘Dario!’ It was a low, keening sound but he recognised the desperation in her cry. Didn’t it echo his own need?

  He rose, about to tell her to stretch full length on the settee so he could blanket her with his body. But even that would take too long. He needed her now.

  Instead he clamped her hips and dragged her to the very edge of the seat. He leaned in, hard against her softness, full and ready against her openness.

  Lightly he tilted his hips and she rose to meet him. The slide of her slick flesh against him was almost too much. His eyelids flickered as lightning sparked behind them. No, too soon.

  With a smile that must have been more grimace, he slid a hand between them, circling, probing, entering. Her eyes widened and heat flared in their blue depths. Again he stroked and she lifted to meet him, her gaze clinging.

  How he wanted...no, how he needed her.

  Her face revealed wonder, as if she’d never known such pleasure. An illusion, of course, but a heady one. He was at breaking point when she reached for him.

  ‘Dario. Now...please.’

  His heart gave a huge surge that sent his pulse out of kilter. He dragged her hand up to cup his face and turned to nuzzle it. The scent of Alissa, sweet and salt and absolute temptation, filled him. He licked her palm and her eyes closed.

  ‘Watch me,’ he whispered.

  She opened her eyes as he lifted her legs round his hips and positioned himself at the entrance to paradise.

  ‘Yes.’ It was a hiss of sensual need.

  Slowly, inexorably, he surged forward. His shoulders, his buttocks and thighs, every inch of him strained with tension as he entered that tight, slick space.

  Such was the force of will needed to restrain himself he almost missed the tiny sensation of resistance and the breathless grimace that contorted her features.

  ‘Alissa?’ Did she hear him? For a moment that look
ed like distress on her face. He paused, shocked at the message his brain sent him, unable to comprehend it. Then she lifted her hips and thought fled as he slid forward.

  Instinct took over as he withdrew then pushed again, more strongly this time. She moaned in pleasure and tension spiralled. He stroked her face, her breasts, encouraged her to stretch up so they were flush together, skin against skin. Heat against heat as he filled her and she welcomed him home with tiny answering movements.

  She linked her hands round his neck as she stared into his eyes. His heart swelled to bursting point. A second later, with the first rapid spasm of her body round his, he felt the spark flare in his blood. She cried out as if in surprise and her body clenched around his.

  He knew a moment’s satisfaction at her climax before he plunged into a vortex of fire. It racked him with pleasure, sent flame racing along his veins. Light exploded in his numbing brain and filled him with ecstasy.

  It seemed forever before he slumped forward, pulling her close. His chest heaved as he buried his face against her but the instinct to hug her to him was so strong he didn’t care whether he breathed freely or not.

  He was too spent to think, to do anything other than ride the aftershocks of cataclysmic orgasm and stroke her hair with fingers that shook.

  He’d just had the most fulfilling sexual encounter of his life. With his wife.

  A wife who had been a virgin until five minutes ago.

  CHAPTER TEN

  ALISSA WOKE TO a feeling of well-being pervading even her bones. She sensed daylight, yet her limbs were weighted, her body relaxed and replete, her mind empty of everything but the recognition of comfort.

  Dimly she realised this was different from other mornings. There was no tension, no anxiety gnawing her vitals the instant she woke to a new day.

  Luxuriously she stretched, wondering what—

  She froze. The pillow she’d nuzzled was a cushion of living muscle dusted with masculine hair. Her shin had slid between two solid male thighs and one hand was clamped around the curve of a very solid shoulder.