Page 55 of Love on the Rocks
“You’ve been reading it?” I crossed my arms, giving him an even better view of my breasts.
“Research. I have to do mine as well.”
“And what did you learn?”
“That Angelos is one lucky bastard.” He came around the side of the bed and I took a step back, still naively thinking I could walk away. “But I still have some questions.”
“Such as?” I cocked a brow at him.
“Well, for instance, I’d like to know what your favorite scene is.”
“Why don’t you guess?”
He flipped through the well-worn pages. The spine of the book was creased because I’d read it so many times. I practically knew it by heart. My pulse raced thinking that he’d read the scenes I’d fantasized over since I was a pimply adolescent.
“The obvious choice would be the hot tub on the yacht. But you’re anything but predictable, so I’m going to go with the mirror scene. It’s a bit tamer, but emotionally deeper, less superficial. Something tells me you like that.”
“Oh, so youdon’tthink I’m superficial.” I threw my hair back. “And are you proposing to give me something emotionally deeper?”
“Me? No, what you see is what you get.”
I let my eyes travel back down his body. “I haven’t actually seen that much, unlike you.” I sat down on his bed and leaned back on my elbows. “It’s only fair that I get a peek too.
“As you wish.” He tugged on the string of his pants and let them fall to the floor. Jesus, he was magnificent. All smooth muscle and that . . . that thing . . . standing to attention between his legs. No wonder I’d had an orgasm just rubbing myself on it. My poor vibrator was a flimsy knock-off—a tiny hand-rolled cigarette to that Cuban cigar.
My plan had been to tease him and walk away, but there was no way that was happening now. Not when I saw what he was offering. Anyway, who was I kidding? I knew exactly what I was doing when I came here tonight.
“Well, are you going to stand there all day? Or are you going to put that to use?” I said finally.
He walked over until he was standing in front of me. I ran my hands down his taut stomach and over his hips, contemplating how much of him I’d be able to fit in my mouth without gagging. I licked my lips but he slid his hand under my chin and lifted my head. “As much as I’d love that. That’s not how the scene goes.”
Then he yanked me roughly to my feet, spinning me around until my back was to him. I could feel the hard length of him pressed against my backside as he slipped one arm around my waist, holding me captive.
“I think it’s time to stop pretending you don’t want this,asteri mou.” I gasped as I recognized the words from the book. He gently brushed my hair aside, exposing my neck. My entire body trembled as his warm breath tickled my ear before his lips lightly nipped the sensitive skin. We were facing the mirror on the wall. I could see everything he was doing to me.
I squirmed against him, rubbing against his erection, and he hissed, clamped his arm tighter around my waist, then tangled a fist into the tie holding my robe together. With one tug it fell open. I suddenly felt vulnerable and exposed, and I tried to turn my face away from my reflection, but he wouldn’t let me.
“Don’t,” he whispered in my ear. “Look at how beautiful you are.”
My eyes slid back to my reflection. I usually didn’t spend much time analyzing my naked body—my clothed body, yes; my face and my hair, absolutely—but I never contemplated my nudity. Probably because of that summer I’d done lingerie work, and despite how I’d starved myself, all I’d heard was a litany of criticism about my thighs, the slight pooch of my stomach that never seemed to go away.
But as I watched Nikos’s hands glide over me, pulling back my robe to expose my round hips with faded stretch marks, thescar on my tummy, my heavy, proud breasts, I saw that he was right. My body was beautiful, sensual in its imperfections—soft, generous, warm.
His hands slid up, cupping my breasts, thumbs caressing the tips until I was arching back into him. “These fucking tits. I haven’t thought about anything else since you stepped of that boat,” he growled in my ear.
I groaned as he plucked harder at my nipples, wanting his mouth on them. He licked his finger and drew light circles around them, and heat pooled between my legs.
His hand ran flat down my belly and down to my thigh. He pulled my leg up, setting my foot on the bed, and angled me open. My breath hitched as I stared at his fingers in the mirror nudging me open.
“Always so wet for me.” He breathed in my ear. “Do you like that, watching my fingers fuck you?”
I couldn’t take my eyes off it. Those long, thick beautiful fingers sliding rhythmically inside me. I could feel the roughness of his callouses, but his hands were gentle, so gentle that it was driving me mad. I wanted him to be rougher. To manhandle me. This, this was too much. I bucked against him, and he nipped at my shoulder again. “Don’t be greedy,” he warned.
I arched against him again. I wanted him. Needed him deep inside me. “Please,” I said.
“Please what,asteri mou?”
“Please, just fuck me. I don’t want it soft or gentle. Throw me down on the bed and give it to me.”
