Page 30 of On His Bride's Terms

Primo was shaking his head. ‘I can’t imagine what it must be like to have two parents who aren’t permanently at each other’s throats. My parents’ marriage was one of two states: either ice-cold, with tension thick enough to cut with a knife, or dramatic histrionics. The morning our mother left,’ Primo went on, ‘Quin was clinging to her, crying and begging her not to go. But I was numb. I had to peel him off her. To this day I can’t stand dramatics.’

Feeling a little less exposed after hearing this, Faye said, ‘That’s a form of self-protection. Your brother acted out his anguish, but you pushed yours down.’

Primo arched a brow. ‘Was psychology part of your art degree?’

But his words held no edge or defensiveness. Faye wondered what it would take to really ruffle the surface of this very self-contained man.

At that moment his gaze dropped again to her chest. His jaw tightened.

Feeling emboldened, Faye asked, ‘Is something bothering you?’

His gaze came back up. His eyes were glittering. ‘You know exactly what you’re doing.’

She didn’t, actually, but it felt heady to finally see some evidence that shecouldruffle Primo’s feathers—even a little bit. She looked down and could see the curve of her breast. She pulled her dress apart a little bit more, exposing herself, and then very deliberately tipped her glass of wine so that the cold liquid fell on her breast, running in a rivulet around and over her nipple.

‘Oops.’

‘Faye...’

She looked up. Primo’s face was stark. He’d put his drink down and his hands were on the arms of the chair, knuckles white.

‘Come here,’ he ordered softly.

Faye felt like saying,You come here, because she wasn’t sure her legs would work when she stood up. But she found herself untucking her legs and obeying his order, until she was standing in front of him, her glass in her hand.

‘Give me your glass.’

She handed it over and he put it on a side table. Then he looked at her and leaned forward, putting his hands on her waist and drawing her to him, so that she had to put her knees on the chair either side of his thighs.

Her hands went to his chest and she could feel the strong thud of his heart. Faye’s own heart was palpitating.

Primo reached up and slid his hands under the wide straps of the dress. ‘May I?’ he said.

She was sitting on the man’s lap, legs spread wide. She nodded, and bit her lip as he pushed the material down her arms, making the dress fall to her waist, exposing her bare breasts.

Faye lifted her arms from the straps.

Primo lifted the wine glass from the table and held it to Faye’s hot skin, making her nipples pebble into tight buds of need. Then he slowly and deliberately poured more wine, first over one breast and then the other, before putting the glass back down. Then he cupped her breasts in his hands and proceeded to very thoroughly lick them clean of all traces of wine, lingering on her nipples, sucking and tugging on the sensitised flesh, until Faye was unconsciously moving her hips against him to assuage the ache.

As if reading her mind, Primo kept his mouth on her as one hand delved under the skirt of her dress and found her lace underwear, pushing it aside so that he could explore her flesh, finding where she was hot and moist, delving deep inside with first one and then two fingers.

Faye was feverish now as, with his tongue and mouth and wicked fingers, he brought her to a shuddering orgasm. She looked down at him, stunned, as her body shuddered with voluptuous aftershocks. But she was still hungry. And she could feel every muscle in his body was taut.

She lifted herself up and stood on shaky legs. She pulled her underwear off completely and then positioned herself over Primo again. She undid his shirt and pushed it open, spreading her hands and fingers across his chest. And then she reached down and undid his belt buckle and button.

He said with half a smile in his voice, ‘We could go somewhere more comfortable...’

Faye shook her head. ‘No, here. Now...’

While she was undoing him, finding his length and putting her hand around him, he was reaching for her hair and unpinning it so that it fell around her shoulders.

She came up on her knees, either side of his thighs, and he put his hands on her buttocks, squeezing the flesh as she slowly and carefully moved down onto his hard length.

They both sucked in a breath as her body took him in and sensitised muscles moulded around his flesh. For a moment Faye didn’t move, too full of something that felt almost...emotional as she looked into his eyes.

And then, terrified of what that meant, she started to move, up and down, making Primo’s jaw clench. Their skin grew slick with perspiration and his hands squeezed harder, urging her on, allowing her to move but then holding her still so that he could surge up and into her. And all she could do was cling to his shoulders and bite back a low moan of pleasure.

This orgasm came less quickly than the last one, but it was no less devastating—like a massive body of water that kept surging and surging until it broke against her, her body clamping down on Primo’s until he too found release, holding her still as he thrust up, touching her so deeply that she couldn’t breathe for a long moment, and then fell, limp against him, her face buried in his neck.

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