by Jennie Lucas
“I want you,” Stefano breathed, cupping her face. “I’ve never waited so long for any woman. Annabelle.”
His lips were hard and hungry as he kissed her. She felt his fingertips stroking softly down her body, her neck, her waist, and she forgot to breathe. She needed him more than she needed air. She gasped as he slowly kissed down her neck, tasting her bare shoulder as his hands cupped her breasts beneath the fabric. Her nipples tightened, and he moved his mouth to suckle her through the silk.
Her fingers gripped his shoulders as she gasped aloud.
He pulled her arms upright and yanked the silk camisole up off her body. Her white lacy bra came next. Her upper torso was completely bare as he pushed her back amid the flowers. She shivered in the hot sunlight, beneath the dappled shadows of tree branches swaying in the wind, as he looked down at her.
For several seconds, he stared at her in awe, whispering incomprehensible words of reverence. Then he swiftly pulled off his shirt. He looked like an ancient god of passion and war. Dark hair laced the tight, hard muscles of his chest and the flat plain of his belly. His shoulders were powerful and wide, his arms strong enough to fight a thousand men for her.
His body fell against hers. She felt his hard chest crush her breasts as he moved against her, the heavy weight of his body pinning her against the cool earth. His lips plundered her mouth in a kiss of seduction and fire. His hands moved down her half-naked body, stroking and caressing every bare inch of her skin. He suckled her earlobes, kissing along her neck to the hollow between her breasts. Her breaths came quick and fast as he slowly kissed down her naked belly. He flicked his tongue into her belly button and she moaned, shifting her weight beneath him. Desire pooled low in her belly. She felt a driving need for more …
He wrapped his hand around the mound of one breast and suckled her taut, naked nipple. She felt him take her inside his wet, warm mouth and arched her back with a soft cry.
He swirled his tongue against her, teasing her nipple gently with the sharp edge of his teeth.
As she gasped, writhing beneath him, he moved to her other nipple, licking and suckling her.
She felt his hands move down her naked waist, down to the waistline of her pants. Over the fabric, he stroked her hips, grazing lightly over her thighs.
He lifted her legs around his hips.
She felt his hardness through multiple layers of fabric. It was unmistakable. He felt so hard and huge, pressed up against her. He swayed, moving between her legs, and her breathing came in haggard gasps.
She’d never known it could be like this. She hadn’t known….
Suddenly, Stefano choked out a low, guttural curse. As the sun moved behind a cloud, a shadow shifted across Stefano’s face as he ripped away from her.
It took a minute before she remembered how to speak, before her lips could even form words. “What—what’s wrong?”
He stared down at her furiously, his jaw hard. “We have to stop. I never thought … I’m not prepared. Damn me to hell!”
Even through her pants and his jeans, she’d felt him against her, rock hard and huge.
“You seemed pretty prepared to me.”
“I didn’t bring a condom,” he bit out, scowling in fury.
Looking at him, a laugh escaped her. “You mean you don’t carry one in your wallet?
You? The playboy everyone warned me about?”
“A mistake I will soon rectify.” Standing, he yanked her camisole back over her chest.
Wadding the rest of their clothes into a ball, he picked Annabelle up from the flowers.
Carrying her against his bare chest, he strode swiftly out of the meadow and back through the forest.
“Put me down!” she said. “I can walk!”
“Not until you’re in my bed,” he said grimly, never breaking stride as he crashed through the forest. “I’m not giving you the chance to change your mind.”
Back at the paddock, he carried her to the gentle mare he’d saddled for her. As if she weighed nothing, Stefano lifted her onto the dappled horse, then swung onto the saddle behind her. Thrusting their crumpled-up clothes into the saddle’s pack, he wrapped both of his arms around Annabelle. With a flick of the reins, he tapped his heels against the horse’s sides.
The mare leaped forward, and Annabelle rested her head back against Stefano’s chest.
She closed her eyes, hearing his heartbeat, feeling protected in his arms. They flew forward through the trees and back down the hillside, back toward the golden fields that surrounded the hacienda.
Sitting in Stefano’s lap astride the horse, leaning against his muscled chest with his arms wrapped around her, Annabelle drowsed in a sensual dream. Her lips were bruised from his kiss. Her silk camisole clung to her bare skin where he’d suckled her with his wet mouth.
Red and purple flower petals flew from her loose blond hair, whirling in the breeze as the horse soared over the ground, sharp hooves flying.
With every leap of the animal’s long stride, Annabelle felt the warmth and strength of the powerful man who held her. She felt how much he still wanted her.
Annabelle twisted her head to look back at him as he guided the horse. His dark eyes were focused intently on the horizon. He looked like a knight, she thought, riding a charger to save a medieval castle. She felt every jarring step of the horse’s fast gallop against the earth.
She saw the sharp hooves and the distance to the ground, but in Stefano’s arms, she wasn’t afraid. Not even of what waited for her.
His bedroom.
His bed.
When they arrived in the courtyard, Stefano pulled the mare to a stop with a low whistle. Tossing the reins to one of the young stablehands, he leaped down. Not bothering to explain, he lifted Annabelle into his strong arms.
She had a single vision of the teenager’s shocked face as Stefano carried her to the house.
His fast stride never wavered as he took her upstairs. They were inside his bedroom before Annabelle’s eyes had adjusted from the bright sunlight to the cool darkness inside. She blinked and saw his bedroom, the mirror of her own but with Spartan, masculine furniture.
Stefano put her down on his enormous bed. He looked down at her, bare-chested, dark-eyed and impossibly handsome. The rest of the world disappeared. She could see only him. Wanted only him.
Even if it destroyed her.
Stefano pushed her back against his pillows. He kissed her, his lips deliciously hard, and she felt his hands reach for her camisole. Roughly, he ripped the silk apart in his bare hands and dropped it to the floor.
“Don’t rip my clothes!” she gasped.
“I want it all off,” he growled. “Now.”
Flinging himself on top of her, he moved his hands down her body, stroking her naked breasts to her flat belly. His gaze locked with hers as he undid the zipper of her pants and yanked them down over the curve of her hips, past her feet, before tossing them to the floor.
Annabelle’s mouth parted in shock as he knelt at the foot of the bed.
Roughly pushing her legs apart, he kissed up the inside of her naked thighs. He cupped the mound between her legs over her underwear, causing her to tremble and arch her back, rising to meet him. She closed her eyes, gripping the white cotton sheet in her fists, as if she were afraid she might otherwise go spinning upward into the sky. His mouth moved to the edge of the cotton fabric, licking just beneath the elastic with a flick of his tongue. Then he ripped it off her body entirely, and she gasped.
She realized she was naked, spread-eagled across his enormous bed. No man had ever seen her naked before. She opened her eyes.
Looking at the hunger in his eyes, she sucked in her breath. Slowly, never taking his gaze from hers, he took off his jeans and dark boxers. Naked, he knelt before her on the bed.
Staring up at him in the half shadows slatted with streaks of light from the blinds, Annabelle sucked in her breath at his masculine beauty. He was so hard, and so ready for her. But he was so huge. Ho
w would he ever fit inside her? How badly would it hurt?
Biting her lip, Annabelle looked up at him, her eyes dazed with wonder and desire and fear. With a groan, he lowered his head to kiss her. He kissed her softly on the forehead, her eyelids, then finally her mouth with a long, intense kiss.
“Look at me,” he whispered, biting her lower lip, “and ask me if I think you’re beautiful.”
He pulled away, his knees braced on the mattress as he straddled her hips, and even as the question rose to Annabelle’s mouth, she had no need to ask. The physical proof of his desire jutted hard from his body.
“Touch me,” he said roughly. “And ask if I want you.”
She’d never seen a naked man before, let alone touched one. Timidly, she reached out a fingertip and stroked him from the tip along the shaft. He jerked beneath her touch. Gaining confidence, she took him fully in her gentle grasp. He exhaled. He was so huge in her hand, and so hard. When she looked up in wonder at his handsome face his expression was strained, as if he were fighting to keep control.
“You want me,” Annabelle said softly. It was a statement, not a question.
Stefano looked down at her, spread across his bed. His dark eyes seared her skin. She realized he could see all the scars on her whole body. Everything that surgery and time had not healed, everything she’d hidden for twenty years, he could see.
But to her surprise, she wasn’t afraid. She wasn’t ashamed. Beneath his eyes, she was beautiful.
He lowered his body over hers, and as he kissed her, she felt it all over her body. The intensity of his embrace felt like Christmas, like home, like love itself. She felt the hard roughness of his thighs against hers, felt his muscled, hair-covered chest slide against her plump breasts. They were so different and yet, as he held her beneath him, they were the same. They were one.
She felt him between her legs, sliding over her most secret core, demanding entrance.
His hands cupped her breasts as he suckled her nipples and stroked her breasts. She gasped as she felt his fingers move down her flat belly to her hips and finally between her thighs, closer and closer to the sweet aching place that begged for his touch. He teased her, making her tight with longing and desire as he licked and stroked her body. Finally, when she was nearly half-mad with need, he brushed her molten core with his fingertips, in the barest whisper of a touch.
Her hips jerked forward in the explosion of sensation, and she gasped. He touched her again, so softly. With his other hand, he pushed a single exploratory fingertip inside her, and she gripped the sheets in her hands, twisting back and forth, wanting deeper. Wanting more, but not knowing how to ask.
But he already knew. In a swift motion he moved down her naked body, placing his head between her legs. Pushing her thighs apart, he tasted her with the full width of his tongue.
She cried out, arching her back beneath the electric arc of pleasure. The shock was intense. She tried to move away. He held her down with his hands, making her submit to incredible pleasure such as she’d never known.
He slowly licked her, his tongue lapping the hot wet center of her need, flicking against her hot aching peak, swirling in progressively tighter circles until she was writhing in sweet agony. Her body was so tight and taut, and climbing higher still. Her breathing came in ragged, short gasps as the edges of her vision started to go dark. The tension was unbearable, making her shake and twist beneath the savage, ruthless lapping of his tongue. The pleasure was building. Exploding. She clutched the back of Stefano’s black hair, trying to pull him away before she … before she …
But he wouldn’t let her escape—he wouldn’t—
Her world exploded and waves of bliss poured over her like colors, the blue of the Spanish sky, red poppies, deep brown earth and the black of her lover’s eyes. She screamed out his name and Stefano moved, sheathing himself in a condom in a fast movement before he braced his hands on either side of her body, positioning himself between her legs.
In a single rough movement, he pushed himself inside her.
Pain shot through Annabelle as he ripped through her, splitting her apart. She heard the intake of his breath as he broke the unexpected barrier inside her.
“Annabelle?” he said in a strangled voice. “How is it possible … how can you be a virgin?”
She twisted her head away, her eyes tightly shut at the shock and revulsion she imagined she heard in his voice. He started to pull away from her, but she couldn’t bear for it to end, not like this!
“I’m not a virgin,” she whispered, gripping his shoulders, holding him inside her. “Not anymore.”
She heard his low, hoarse gasp. “Look at me.”
Shaking, Annabelle opened her eyes, waiting to see scorn in his handsome face.
Instead, she saw only shock and something else—wistfulness?
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said quietly.
“It’s too late,” she said in a low voice. “It’s done.”
“If I’d known you might be a virgin—”
“Don’t stop now,” she choked out. She shook her head, blinking back tears she struggled to hide. “Please don’t leave me like this.”
Stefano closed his eyes, then with a ragged intake of breath, he slowly pushed back inside her. The movement was slow, impaling her inch by inch. His jaw twitched with the tight ferocity of his control.
She gritted her teeth, bracing against expected pain.
But instead, as he moved slowly inside her, she was shocked by a new feeling that rose above the pain. Pleasure rebuilt inside her like dark clouds of a thunderstorm on a hot summer day. Darkening. Building. Ready to explode.
He filled her so deeply. With each thrust, he went deeper still. She saw by the tension of his body what it cost him to hold back like this. He was so careful—so gentle. His eyes were closed, his jaw twitching with the effort of self-control.
She loved him for that. Reaching up, Annabelle pulled him down and softly kissed his lips. The last vestiges of her body’s pain dissipated and the tension coiling low in her belly started to fill her with every thrust. She gripped his shoulders as he rode her, digging her fingernails into his skin, desperate for more, to feel him harder, deeper. And with a ragged gasp, he obliged her. Annabelle’s head fell back as she gasped for breath, lifting her hips to accept each hard thrust as he rode her. He was so huge, so hard, and as he held her down with his weight, slamming into her so deeply, she cried out from pleasure so intense it almost felt like pain.
His low growl built to a roar as he gripped her hips, pushing inside her with one final shattering thrust. He was so deep, deep, deep inside her that when he shouted her name in the hard ecstasy of his release, joy exploded through her and she screamed as her world went black.
When Annabelle came back to herself moments later, she found herself cradled against Stefano’s naked body, wrapped in the powerful shelter of his arms. She looked around in amazement. The bed looked as if it had been hit by a tornado, with white sheets and covers twisted and ripped around them. Everything else was chaos, but she and Stefano were at peace, the eye of the storm.
Annabelle exhaled in wonder, hardly able to believe what she’d experienced. She pressed her cheek to Stefano’s naked chest and felt the rhythm of his breath. She closed her eyes, listening to his heartbeat, feeling closer to Stefano than she ever had to anyone on earth.
Nestled in his strong, protective arms, Annabelle smiled in wonder and joy as happiness washed over her.
Then her heart almost stopped in her chest.
Her eyes flew open. Stefano was a playboy. Every joy he’d just given her was sweet sugar laced with poison. She’d let her inhibitions go and surrendered everything to his conquest. Her feelings were in his hands now, but how long would he be interested in her? A day? Two? Or was he already done?
She’d just given herself to a man who always lost interest in every woman after he bedded her.
She’d given him her virginity. Her trust. Her … heart?
No. Annabelle shuddered. Please God, she couldn’t be that foolish. She wouldn’t give her heart to a man who would betray and desert her in a matter of days, if not hours.
Would she?
“So what happens now?”
Still half-asleep, Stefano opened his eyes lazily at the trembling sound of Annabelle’s voice. Both of them were still naked and lying across his bed amid the ransacked white cotton sheets. He smiled to himself. Dios mío, he’d never felt such passion for any woman. Beneath that cool reserved exterior, she had even more fire than he’d ever imagined.
When he’d first kissed her in the meadow beneath the wide blue sky, breathing in the scent of the flowers—the scent of her—Stefano had thought he would die if he didn’t have her. But making love to Annabelle had exceeded his wildest expectations.
Now, to his shock, he wanted … more.
“What happens now?” he repeated, a tender smile on his lips as he looked down at her cradled to his bare chest. He frowned as if in thought, then grinned. “We go downstairs for dinner?”
“We slept together,” she pointed out.
“Yes,” he murmured, kissing her temple. “I noticed that.”
But Annabelle’s beautiful face had an unhappy, pinched expression. “You must have a usual procedure after you’ve bedded a woman. How does this end?”
Stefano blinked. A usual procedure? Sí, he did have one. After he made love to a pretty woman who was barely more than a stranger, he always got dressed, told the woman he’d never forget their night together, left the hotel room and promptly forgot her.
But this … this was different. This was Annabelle.
She was a virgin. He’d made love to her in his own bed. Most of all: he knew her. For the first time in his life, he’d become friends with a woman before he’d slept with her. He’d been forced to wait so long to seduce her, he’d had to fight so hard to win her, that he’d actually started to … care.
