Page 32 of Stolen For My Spanish Scandal

‘You are exactly what I want,’ I said fiercely. ‘Exactly.’

She felt so soft, and she made another little sound as I let my fingers trail down over her chest, brushing lightly over the curve of her breast and then down further, following the line of her hip to her rounded stomach.

I stroked the little bump where our baby lay, allowing the fierce possessiveness to grip me, and then I let my fingers move over it and down further.

‘C-Con...’ she whispered as my fingers grazed over the lace between her thighs. It was damp, the evidence of her arousal slick against my fingertips.

Hunger wound its way around my soul, tightening until I could hardly breathe.

I dropped to my knees in front of her, pushing her back against the window seat, then tore apart the thin silk that was in my way.

She gasped as I touched her, stroking the soft, sensitive folds between her thighs, feeling soft curls and moisture and heat, and then she gasped again as I leaned forward, pressing my mouth to her stomach, trailing kisses down over it until I reached the salty heat of her.

‘Oh... Con...’ Her voice was ragged, a tremble shaking her.

When I licked my way inside her she jerked against me and cried out.

She tasted delicious, a delicate feast I couldn’t get enough of, so I hooked her thighs over my shoulders, gripping her hips as I tasted her, deeper and more fully.

She fell back onto the cushions, crying out yet again as I pushed my tongue deep inside her.

She was mine now, every part of her, and I was going to take my own sweet time exploring her.

Her fingers curled in my hair, gripping me tight, and she shook beneath my hands. But I didn’t rush. I feasted on her, making her cry out and sob.

And only when I was ready did I give her what she was begging for, making her sob my name as the orgasm came for her.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Jenny

ILAYGASPINGagainst the window seat cushions, pleasure still cascading through me. I couldn’t move, could only stare at the ceiling, feeling as if I’d been shattered into a million tiny, glittering pieces.

Con had broken me, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to be put back together again. Or maybe I did, if only so he could break me again like he had just now.

I’d told him I didn’t want a platonic marriage and I’d thought I understood what that meant. Except I hadn’t. Not really.

Oh, I’d seen the flare of black fire in his eyes as I’d told him I’d changed my mind, that I’d marry him after all. And I’d sensed the tension in the air growing tighter, hotter, as I’d said he’d have to give up the idea of a sexless marriage.

He’d asked me if I was sure, and I didn’t know why he’d bothered to ask.

So he’d shown me.

It was as if I’d poured petrol on a smouldering fire. Flames leapt in his eyes and he’d come closer, pressing me back against the window seat, letting me know that it wasn’t just a fire that burned inside him, it was a volcano.

Perhaps he’d thought his passion would scare me, but that had been impossible, because all I’d wanted in that moment was him.

I’d ignored what he’d said about love. All I’d been able to focus on was the heat in his gaze, and when he’d whispered that every part of me was his my soul had shivered.

I’d felt self-conscious as he’d pulled away my dress, because he’d never seen me naked and I wasn’t anything like the other women he’d been with. I wasn’t tall, willowy Olivia, for example.

Except then he’d told me that I was exactly what he wanted, and then he’d touched me so softly, delicately, making me feel precious. He’d kissed me. He’d dropped to his knees before me. He’d...tasted me, making it very obvious that he was enjoying every second...

It had been the most erotic thing I’d ever experienced.

I shut my eyes, conscious that I was wearing only a bra and he was still kneeling on the floor, my thighs over his shoulders, my most secret places laid bare for him to see.

I tried to move, but he laid a firm hand on my stomach, pinning me. ‘Don’t,’ he said, his voice rough with desire. ‘Open your eyes, Jenny. I haven’t finished.’

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