The Platinum Collection: An Australian Conquest: The Incorrigible Playboy / His Most Exquisite Conquest / His Bought Mistress. Emma Darcy

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СКАЧАТЬ saw her eyes dilate with shock.

      He didn’t care.

      She’d invited him to take her without caring and his level of frustration with her was so high, turning away from following through on her invitation was beyond him. His hands lifted and cupped the breasts they’d wanted to cup in Mickey’s office days ago. He fanned her rock-hard nipples with his thumbs. The soft sheer fabric of the butterfly blouse gave a sensual sexiness to feeling her like this, causing a rush of hot blood to his loins.

      He wanted her.

      He’d been burning up for her all week.

      Her eyes refocused on his, still slightly glazed but clearing as she sucked in a deep breath.

      Yes, look at me! he thought savagely. Know it’s me and not Mickey!

      He undid the button holding her blouse together and spread the edges apart, wanting to feel the naked lushness of her breasts against his chest. His arms slid around her waist, scooping her into firm contact with him. It felt good. It felt great.

      ‘Harry...’ It was a husky gasp.

      He didn’t want to hear anything she had to say. His name on her lips shot a soaring wave of triumph through him—his name, not Mickey’s—and he was hell-bent on keeping it stamped on her consciousness. His mouth crashed onto hers, intent on a blitzkrieg invasion that would blast any possible thought of his brother from entering her head.

      To his surprise her tongue started duelling with his and a wild elation burst through his brain when her hands clutched his head, not to tear them apart but to hold them together, her fingers kneading his scalp, her mouth working to meet and escalate the passion surging through him.

      He pressed one hand into the sexy pit of her back, forcing her body into contact with his erection as he pulled the bikini string at her hip apart, changed hands to do the same with the other, whipped the scrap of fabric from between her legs. The lovely female curves of her naked bottom were sensual dynamite, igniting his need for her to the brink of explosion.

      He tore his hands off them to sweep the blouse from her shoulders and pull it off her arms. It broke her hold on his head, broke the marauding madness of their kissing, but it had to be done. She was fully naked now, totally accessible to anything he wanted with her.

      He bent and scooped her off her feet, holding her crushed to his chest as he strode from the deck, into the villa, up the steps to the mezzanine level. He tumbled her onto the king-size bed, snatched up the contraceptive sheath he’d laid ready on the bedside table, discarded his board shorts in double-quick time, pulled on the sheath and leapt onto the bed, rolling her straight into his embrace, not allowing any sense of separation to strike any doubts about what they were doing in her mind.

      Their mouths locked again, driving passion to fever pitch. Her body was arching into his, explicitly needful. He barely controlled the urge to zero in to the ultimate intimacy with her. Only the bitter recollection of her one night insistence forced him to a different course of action. If this was all there was to be between them he’d satisfy every desire she’d ever stirred in him—eat her all up so he could spit her out afterwards, not be left fantasising over what he could have done.

      He wrenched his mouth from hers, trailed hotly possessive kisses down her lovely long neck, tasted the tantalising hollow at the base of her throat, slid lower to feast on her sensational breasts, swirling his tongue around her provocative nipples, sucking on them, devouring them, taking his fill of her luscious femininity, revelling in the little moans vibrating from her throat, the twist of her fingers tangling with his hair.

      He reached down to part the soft folds of her sex, his own fingers sliding, searching, finding the excited wetness that gave him easy entry to stroke the excitement to a much-higher level. She cried out, her body arching again, her need growing in intensity. He moved lower, determined on driving her crazy for him.

      He spread the folds apart to expose the tight bud of her clitoris and licked it, slowly teasing at first, then faster, faster until she was writhing, screaming for him, begging, her legs encircling him, feet beating a drum of wild wanting. He surged up to take the ultimate plunge, but the savage need inside him demanded a last absolute surrender from her.

      Her head was thrashing from side to side. He held it still. ‘Look at me!’ he commanded.

      She blinked and looked but there was no real focus in her eyes.

      ‘Say my name!’

      ‘What?’ It was a gasp of confusion.

      ‘Say my name!’

      ‘Har...ry...’ It was a weak waver of sound.

      ‘Say it again!’

      ‘Harry, Harry, Harry...’ she cried hysterically. ‘Please...’

      ‘You want me?’

      ‘Ye-s-s-s.’ She beat at his shoulders with tightly clenched fists. ‘I’ll kill you if you don’t...’

      He silenced her with a deep, thrusting kiss as he propelled his flesh into hers. When he lifted his head, the animal groan of satisfaction from her throat rang jubilant bells in his ears. She clutched his buttocks, trying to goad him into a fast rhythm, but he wanted the excitement to build and build, not explode all at once. He started slowly, revelling in her eagerness for him, the convulsive little spasms that told him she was totally engaged in feeling him—him, not Mickey.

      He felt her creaming around him and couldn’t keep controlling the rampantly growing need of his own body. It overtook his mind, oblivious to everything but the physical scream to reach climax, releasing the fierce tension raging through every muscle of his body. It pumped from him in a glorious burst of ecstatic satisfaction, and with all tension draining away, he rolled onto his side, pulling her with him, wanting to hang on to the sense of intimate togetherness as long as he could.

      She didn’t attempt any move away from him. Maybe she was drained of all energy, too. Whatever...she left her legs entwined with his, their bodies pressed close, her head tucked under his chin. He stroked her hair, enjoying the soft silky texture of it, thinking he still had the freedom to touch. He wondered how she was going to act for the rest of the night. Would Ellie emerge and see him for the man he was, or would Elizabeth stick to her guns?

      He couldn’t call it.

      He told himself he didn’t care.

      At least he had the satisfaction of making her want him with every fibre of her being, if only for one night.

      * * *

      Elizabeth didn’t want to move. It felt unbelievably good, cuddled up with Harry, having her hair stroked. Her mind drifted to her childhood, sitting on her mother’s lap, head resting just like this while her hair was stroked lovingly. No one else had ever done it. She’d always been the one to comfort Lucy, not the other way around. It was weird, feeling comforted by Harry but...she didn’t want to move.

      She liked being naked with him, too, the warm flesh contact, the sense of his male strength holding her safe. It was so nice and peaceful after the storm of incredible sensation. Having sex with Harry...her mind was still blown by it...just totally unimaginable before experiencing it. She’d never tipped so utterly out of control, never been taken to such peaks of exquisite pleasure-pain, and the sheer ecstasy of floating in the aftermath of one climax after СКАЧАТЬ