by Annie West
One stride and he was pushing her back onto the bed, lifting her higher so she lay full length. Then he was beside her, over her, the weight of one solid thigh pinning her legs, his groin hot at her hip.
Flynn’s mouth swooped on hers, enticing, demanding, driving her crazy, and she grabbed his shoulders, desperate. His hand slid across her bare stomach and she sighed into his mouth. At last! She shimmied her hips, ready to help him drag her knickers off. Instead his hand arrowed beneath them, zeroing straight beneath the lace to the nub of her desire.
Ava gasped and clung to his broad shoulders as long fingers circled, delved and circled again. Wildfire raced through her, tongues of flame licking everywhere.
Her hips rose needily as with one expert stroke, then another, he built a crescendo of sensation. It crested in seconds, a fiery maelstrom that blasted through her, leaving her quaking in ecstasy.
Dazed, Ava stared into Flynn’s face, now tight with restraint. His features looked moulded from bronze, his eyes molten hot.
Shakily she reached out to cup his jaw, feeling the tension hum through him. She dragged air into oxygen-starved lungs.
‘I need you,’ she whispered.
He pressed his lips to hers in a kiss so delicate she felt adoration and love and her heart swelled. His feelings were there in every touch, every caress.
‘I love you.’ Her mouth curved. It felt good to say it out loud. Powerful and precious.
Flynn’s eyes looked black as night as he scanned her face, as if committing it to memory.
‘Ava.’
Just two syllables, but they were invested with such depth of feeling her throat convulsed from the emotional overload.
His fingers stroked again, gently, and she stiffened, lax muscles suddenly rigid, senses alert. There it was again, that spark of desire flickering anew.
Flynn’s mouth tipped up at the corner as her body came to life again.
He didn’t give her time to think but slipped down, swirling his tongue around her nipple, then drawing it into his mouth. She’d never felt the like of it. She grabbed his thick black hair, clamping him to her as delight and wonder broke upon her. Each lave of his tongue sent her spiralling further out of control till she couldn’t stop the mews of pleasure.
Desperation gave way to relief as he finally skimmed her panties off, pushing her legs apart. She complied with alacrity, more than ready for him.
But instead her new husband slid down further, pushing her knees wide and settling there, where the heat burned brightest.
‘Flynn!’ Her shocked gasp died when he nuzzled her aroused pulse-point and she almost lifted off the bed.
Eyes wide, she saw him watching her. One slow lick and her breath evaporated. Another and she was rigid with pleasure. But what made the experience so shockingly erotic was Flynn’s knowing gaze as he watched the hectic flush spread over her breasts and throat. Her eyes widened and her trembling lips parted in a gasp as another climax broke upon her.
It was so intense she could have sworn she floated free of her body, quivering as wave after wave hit, anchored only by the grip of the man she loved, the man who pleasured her so generously.
Still quivering, Ava was grateful for the comfort of his big body as he moved up the bed and wrapped her close, soothing her with large, calming hands as he pulled her across and over him. Against her ear his heart pounded strong and steady, a contrast to her own wildly hammering pulse. Only his quickened breathing indicated it was difficult for him to take his time. That and his erection, hot against her.
She burrowed in to Flynn, overwhelmed, needing the reassurance of his arms around her.
Finally her pulse slowed to something less than frantic and she nuzzled his collarbone, one weighted hand trawling over his ridged abdomen.
‘Thank you, Mr Marshall.’ Her voice was husky, not her own. ‘That was very...’ Words failed her.
‘Pleasant?’ he murmured against her hair. ‘Nice?’
A huff of laughter broke from her still tight throat. ‘How about earth-shattering?’
‘I’m afraid not, Mrs Marshall.’
His voice caressed like a lingering touch and a tiny shiver rippled across her bare flesh.
‘Earth-shattering is in a completely different category. We’re working up to that slowly.’
Ava tilted her head, meeting his look. Her heart gave a great thump at the tenderness she saw there. ‘I’m not sure I’ve got the stamina. Or that I’d survive it.’
Flynn’s lips curved rakishly. ‘You don’t know what you’re capable of yet.’
His stare sizzled and she was grateful she lay in his arms as every bone in her body melted.
He pressed a kiss to her ear, then nipped the lobe, and something jolted through her. He did it again, and to her amazement her replete body began to reawaken.
‘Allow me to demonstrate.’
The demonstration took some time.
In her wildest fantasies Ava had never imagined loving like this. His care, patience and generosity were phenomenal. Though he seduced her into pleasure, clearly it came at a cost. He was strung taut as a bow, his big body humming with tension, jerking when she raked her fingers over him.
When finally he settled over her, his weight heavy between her spread thighs, Ava was in a haze of wellbeing. Excitement rose at the prospect of Flynn finally easing that hollow ache within.
Ava lifted heavy arms, sliding them around the smooth skin of his sides. She loved his heat and hardness, his warm scent in her nostrils.
‘This could hurt a little.’ Flynn’s voice was tight, the tendons in his neck pronounced.
‘I don’t care. I just want you. Now, Flynn. Please.’
With a long, slow push he moved. Ava caught her breath at the unfamiliar sensation. So strange and yet so wonderful. Still it went on. There was a moment’s pause as she fought for oxygen, striving to absorb the unaccustomed feeling of fullness, then with a grunt of satisfaction he slid home, right to the core of her.
‘Okay?’ A frown raked his brow.
Ava’s pulse pumped hard and fast, her breath was ragged, but she felt her smile widen. ‘Marvellous.’
Then there were no more words, just the smooth slide of Flynn’s body against hers, starting slowly, almost tentatively, until Ava found the rhythm in her blood and learned to move with it. Their pace picked up, their breaths mingling. Ava’s pulse thudded as Flynn’s gaze held hers, the stroke of his body in hers drawing her impossibly higher all over again.
Such need, such connection...it was beyond her imaginings.
Wanting to hold him as close as possible, Ava managed to lift her legs. She wrapped them high around his waist, drawing him to her with the last of her strength, and was rewarded with a hoarse gasp of masculine pleasure.
As if she’d released him from restraint Flynn moved faster, harder, taking her somewhere she’d never been before. Then, with a final mighty thrust, he catapulted her into that other world. Rapture engulfed her, overwhelming her senses with pleasure so intense she thought she might die of it.
She heard Flynn call her name, felt the hot release of his orgasm, and sank into oblivion, sated, exhausted, and loved beyond her wildest dreams.
* * *
Flynn looked down into her flushed face, at the hint of a smile curving that petal-soft mouth, and felt as if the ground had dropped away beneath him.
His heart plunged, then steadied. His chest pumped like a piston, hammering desperately. He’d passed through fire. Shreds of ecstasy lingered, lending this moment a vibrant, unreal quality that was unfamiliar.
Sex was always good, but this...
He shook his head, trying to gather his thoughts.
Forcing his protesting body to move, he rolled onto his back, clasping Ava so she lay across him, her head
on his chest. Of their own volition his hands spread over the hot silk of her skin, so incredibly soft. Untouched till him.
The thought should have made him smile. To be Ava’s first lover was an unlooked-for honour. He’d barely been able to believe it when he’d realised how inexperienced she was. Who’d have thought it of Michael Cavendish’s daughter?
But Ava was nothing like her father. He wouldn’t have married her if she had been.
She was unique.
A virgin till she gave herself to him.
Maybe that was why he felt so odd. Winded, and not just physically from that searing, glorious orgasm and from watching her come apart for him time and again. She’d been so responsive, so innocently wanton, purring like a cat when he stroked her, her eyes wide with shock as he pleasured her so thoroughly.
Why had he?
Sure, he had enough experience to know a satisfied partner made sex all the better. But he’d far surpassed what was necessary. Even inexperienced Ava had known that, urging him to take her as he’d wanted for so long.
He pulled her close, inhaling the perfume of her rose-scented skin. His hands tightened.
Damn! He was hard for her, ready to take her again, though she slumbered, snuggling trustingly as she dozed. His lips thinned. He’d have to wait. She wasn’t ready and he didn’t want to hurt her.
Flynn told himself that was why he’d taken such care, giving her climax after climax, ensuring she wasn’t too tense to enjoy her first time.
But his motivation hadn’t been quite so simple. He’d felt an unsettling kernel of discomfort when she’d gazed into his eyes and told him she loved him.
He should have expected it. It wasn’t the first time she’d said it, with that dewy-eyed look of wonder. Yet hearing the words, watching her say them, had battered at him.
Flynn stroked the sinuous curve of her back, enjoying having her here, where she belonged.
She was exactly the right woman for him and he intended to look after her, ensuring she had everything she could possibly want or need, everything she’d once had and lost.
Still her words niggled.
Flynn set his chin. Ava would never regret her decision to marry him. He’d make sure of it.
Yet his determination couldn’t quite banish his discomfort. He frowned. He knew beyond all doubt that marrying Ava was right. It had been the sensible, logical decision. The best decision for them both.
But in all his analysis he’d missed one thing—the way he’d feel when Ava looked at him with stars in her eyes and said she loved him.
Could it be...? Was it possible that guilt had motivated him to provide such a fancifully romantic wedding? To make her wedding night everything and more that a blushing bride could wish?
Guilt because it wasn’t love that had led him to marry her.
CHAPTER SIX
AVA SMOTHERED A GASP as Flynn opened the apartment’s front door. Even from the entrance its view across London was spectacular. She’d expected something special after he’d ushered her into a sleek Aston Martin at Heathrow, and when he’d led her to the private lift in this prestige residential block. But still...
‘You didn’t tell me—’
Powerful arms closed around her, sweeping her up against Flynn’s chest. He made her feel delicate, cosseted. Ava enjoyed the unfamiliar sensation of being fussed over. She’d never been cosseted in her life.
Her world was full of firsts with Flynn. Even dreams seemed possible.
Ava wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing a kiss to his bronzed throat. She loved the way the pulse-point there quickened when they made love. It proved that, despite Flynn’s constant restraint, his insistence on treating her like some dainty princess, he was as aroused as she.
‘Welcome to my home, Mrs Marshall. Our home, until we find somewhere together.’
He carried her into the penthouse, nudging the door shut behind them, and her heart gave a tiny jump of excitement. This was the first day of the rest of her life. A life she and Flynn would share.
‘Thank you, Mr Marshall.’ She planted another kiss on his throat, inhaling his unique fresh scent.
‘What didn’t I tell you?’
Still he didn’t put her down, but strode into an enormous sitting room with expansive views. Ava wondered if he enjoyed holding her as much as she liked being held. In Prague he’d carried her to the bath when they’d woken after making love. A bath scented with rose petals! Then he’d carried her back to bed, as if concerned walking would be too taxing for her after that bone-melting initiation into lovemaking.
‘You didn’t warn me you’re rich as Croesus.’ She kept her tone light, ignoring a frisson of disquiet.
It wasn’t that she didn’t like luxury. She’d been born to privilege. But she’d seen how the desire for wealth could corrupt people. She shivered and he clasped her closer.
She’d rather have her busy, average life with its simple pleasures than move back into that cold, harsh world where money ruled.
‘I prefer to call myself comfortable.’
He lowered her to her feet and Ava sank back against him. Being in Flynn’s arms made her feel complete, as if all was well with the world.
What a change from the past, when she’d avoided men who’d tried to get too close.
Ava let her head rest on his shoulder as she scanned the room’s designer-perfect luxury. She was beginning to realise how much her life might change with Flynn. She’d altered since she met him—love did that. But now there was his lifestyle to adjust to too.
‘If that painting is what I think it is...’ she peered, eyes widening, at the masterpiece on the far wall ‘...“comfortable” is an understatement.’
Flynn shrugged. ‘It’s just a painting.’
‘Just a painting?’
Through her brother Rupert she had an interest in art. This work was an iconic piece of French Impressionism. A piece any gallery would proudly hang. She loved its colour and vibrant sense of light. Yet Flynn saw just a painting?
‘It looks good there, don’t you think?’
Ava expected to see pleasure or pride in his face. Instead his expression was dispassionate.
She frowned. Why buy a work of art unless you had a passion for it?
‘You bought it to fit the room?’ It seemed excessive, spending a fortune on a single piece just to make the room look right.
Flynn shrugged. ‘It was a good investment.’
Ava stared from the painting to him. It was true. He felt no connection with the work. He looked as if he was calculating the cost-benefit ratio of buying this work over some other.
A cool finger of memory traced her spine.
When she was tiny a truckload of books had been delivered to the Hall. Given her love of picture books, she’d been thrilled as pallet after pallet of books had been unloaded, only to be disappointed when she’d been ordered to keep away. Those serious-looking hardbacks weren’t for reading, she’d been informed. Her father had bought them in bulk to fill the half-empty shelves in the old library and he didn’t want sticky little fingers on them.
She hadn’t understood till years later that he’d done it so the room, and by association he, could look suitably impressive. For what was a commercial mogul without his den? Or an aristocrat, even if only by marriage, without his ancient country estate and an impressive library?
‘Show me the rest of the place?’
Suddenly Ava was eager to leave this beautiful room, with its unsettling sense of being a showpiece instead of a home. Besides, exploring would give her a chance to discover more about Flynn. She longed to uncover clues to the man she’d married. Though she knew the important things, she was still a stranger to his everyday world.
Ava smiled as he threaded his fingers through hers. Who ca
red about luxury when there were simple pleasures like this to enjoy?
‘If you keep looking at me like that...’ his voice was gruff ‘...we’ll go straight to the bedroom and stay there.’
‘Well...’ She pretended to consider, her insides turning molten in anticipation. ‘We could finish our tour in the bedroom.’
A spark ignited in his eyes and she watched that telltale pulse in his throat flicker.
‘Or we could stay here.’ Her gaze lingered on a leather sofa long enough to take even Flynn’s tall form. Excitement buzzed. In the two days they’d been married they’d never made love outside a bed. What would it be like, lying there brazenly naked with Flynn?
‘Except my housekeeper won’t yet have left for the day.’
Flynn’s words punctured Ava’s erotic fantasy. ‘You have a housekeeper?’
‘I don’t look after all this myself.’
Of course not. She should have realised. But she hadn’t been thinking about anything except Flynn.
‘Don’t worry.’ He leaned close. ‘She doesn’t live in. We’ll have plenty of privacy.’
Ava nodded and swallowed down the knot of tension that had risen. She had no reason to feel unnerved. Having daily help wasn’t like living at Frayne Hall, with its retinue of staff. Her father had insisted on having people on tap to do his bidding, including Flynn’s parents—his mother in the kitchen and his father in the grounds.
But Ava couldn’t repress regret. She’d made a point of leaving that behind her, throwing off the shackles of her family’s way of life.
‘Come on. There’s a lot to see.’
The apartment was magnificent—decorated in a style that screamed expense. Everything from the giant media room to the rooftop pool, spa and sauna was designed for maximum enjoyment. The facilities were state-of-the-art, right down to the sophisticated electronic environment controls in each room.
Yet Ava couldn’t shift a sense of unease. Each room was perfect, a showpiece worthy of a design magazine. But none, not even the kitchen, seemed homelike.
The views were spectacular, the finishes gorgeous, but her minuscule kitchen with its sunshine-yellow curtains and collection of quirky novelty teapots had far more character and warmth.
