Page 33 of Bedding his Innocent Mistress

He swore into her ear and his hands in her hair were rough and demanding, pulling at her so that he could kiss her neck, his stubble like sandpaper. She groaned, her heels digging into the leather seat, her hips moving as she thrust down on his length again and again and he laughed, a throaty sound of surprise.

“Slow down, querida. Let’s not make this the first time I don’t get a woman to orgasm.”

She laughed, and shook her head. “I don’t care. This feels so good.” But he shook his head and pushed at her dress, bringing his mouth to her breasts, sucking one deep as he rolled slowly, changing their rhythm so that it was a slow, torturous invasion and wave after wave of promised pleasure began to roll through her. She moaned, a husk of sound from deep in her throat.

“I love having you in my mouth,” she said softly.

He swore. “Yeah, that’s going to help.” A sarcastic comment that made her laugh again. Something warm filled her heart. She kissed him then, gently, on the lips, but he took control of that, too, his kiss a retaliation; a possession. She whimpered as his tongue lashed hers and his mouth pressed down against her lips, and then he thrust deep inside of her and she fell apart. It came up on her shockingly fast. She exploded with intensity, crying out again and again as an orgasm fogged through her. He rolled her hips with his hands, moving her when she succumbed to the completion of her orgasm.

He grabbed her face with both his hands and thrust into her again. Her sensations were just subsiding, throbbing through her body, when another intense crescendo began to build and she tossed her head back. But he cupped her face and lifted her. “Look at me,” he demanded, holding her steady as he thrust hard into her. “I want you to look at me. I want you to look at the man that does this to your body. And accept that I’m the only man who can make you feel like this. Okay?”

The heat of his possession filled her like a flame. She groaned, her eyes drifting shut, but he spoke huskily. “Look at me,” he said again.

And she did.

She watched him, her eyes showing how lost she was, how afraid, and his reassuring her, because he was lost too.

*

Between Rafe in the limo and Lisette buying Ivy cocktails all evening, Steve was a distant dot in the back of her mind by the time she finally got home that night. Somewhat clouded by the last mojito, still smelling Rafe in her hair, tasting him on her lips, she pulled her phone out of her bag and stared at it with a silly smile on her lips.

So that was pretty amazing.

It had been. Why pretend she hadn’t been blown away by the whole making love in the back of a glamorous stretch limo thing? It wasn’t a declaration of love. She wasn’t an idiot. Nothing had changed between them; she wanted what she wanted and Rafe was giving it to her. That was all.

Just what I was thinking. Are you coming over tonight?

Alarm bells sounded and a renewed determination fired through her. She loved being with Rafe, but she’d never get to the point where she saw so much of him that she forgot how to operate without him. Once bitten, twice shy.

Not tonight. I’ll dream of you though. She sent the text, hoping it was suitably softened.

There was no reply.

Once she’d showered, and flung herself into bed, Ivy checked her phone once more.

Nothing.

No reply.

With a fit of pique, she wrote, Do I only get a response when you think sex is in the offing?

She sent it, not questioning the wisdom of the snarky message.

You’re annoyed I didn’t reply?

She glared at the phone. Well, it’s a bit rude…

I didn’t think your message needed an answer. You answered my question.

She frowned. Uh oh. Was she being needy? Misreading him?

She began to type out a pithy reply, then deleted it and wrote something snappy, then deleted that. She fell asleep with the phone in hand, message unsent. A fact she was incredibly grateful for the next morning.

Feeling less than fresh, Ivy showered and dressed for work, had two weak cups of tea and prepared to face the day. It was a chilly morning, brusque with an ice-cold wind. She kept her head bent as she made her way to the tube, grateful to find her way onto one that wasn’t super busy.

She had a heap to do, and it wasn’t until Tahlia knocked on her door a little before lunch that she even realised the time.

“Delivery,” Tahlia called with a grin. “You’ve certainly caught someone’s attention.”

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