Escape For Mother's Day: The French Tycoon's Pregnant Mistress. Fiona McArthur

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ his hands, but he swatted hers away with ease. He undid her dress and it fell. Alana caught it. The motion of the car made her fall against him, and made the apex between her legs grind into Pascal’s hardness. She could hear his breath coming harshly, see the colour slash across his cheekbones. She felt sick inside, knowing that he could just as easily be doing this with any other woman.

      She heard him sigh, and he looked up at her with a curiously unguarded expression. She was caught by it.

      ‘Alana, please believe me: if I were in the unfortunate position of having Cecilia Hampton straddle my lap right now, I can assure you that she would not be feeling what you’re feeling.’

      He snaked a hand around the back of her neck. Alana tried to hold herself stiff, but it was too difficult. His voice was low, reasonable, and oh, so sexy. ‘You’d disappeared when I went looking for you, so I went back to wait at the bar, thinking you’d come find me there. Cecilia approached me. If you’d watched for another few seconds before running out, you would have seen me extricate myself from her extremely unwelcome embrace.’

      Alana looked down at him. He looked sincere. Had she read it wrong? She found herself wanting to believe him so much. And that was beyond scary in its implications. But right now she could avoid thinking about it without a huge amount of effort. The need consuming her, consuming the air around them, was too great. Desire flowed, hot and urgent, between them. This was all-encompassing, and she had to give into it and deal with the fallout later.

      Pascal slowly moved his hand from the back of her neck, over her shoulder and down to her hands. He exerted a little bit of pressure and Alana let him pull her hands away, giving in to a need too great. Her dress fell to her waist, baring her breasts. She put her hands back onto the seat behind Pascal. He took her face in his hands and kissed her softly, reverently. It made something hard melt inside her. She sank into him, found her hips moving sinuously against his. Urgency rose. His kiss became more forceful. He dragged his mouth away and held the weight of one breast in his hand before flicking out a tongue and laving the distended peak. Alana’s back arched.

      She pressed kisses feverishly to his face, mouth, neck, her hands seeking to rip open his shirt. Buttons popped and his bow tie disappeared down into the cracks between the seats. She blindly sought his belt buckle and opened it impatiently.

      ‘You’re like a fever in my blood, Alana. There’s no one else I want.’

      His words set her aflame even more, and she bent to kiss him again. He lifted her slightly and she braced her hands against his shoulders. She bit her lip as she heard his zip come down, and as he pulled his trousers down with a rough urgency. Then he settled her back and she almost cried out at the sensation of his hard, virile, unsheathed heat, right there.

      He lifted her dress at her waist, and she heard fabric rip as he brought two hands to the side of her knickers and pulled. He pressed a kiss to her throat as she felt the material being pulled away. ‘I’m not sorry and I’ll buy you new ones.’

      She didn’t care. She wanted him inside her, right now. The ache was killing her.

      As if he heard her silent plea, he lifted her again, and she could feel his hand on himself as he guided his rigid length to the apex of her thighs. He slid in easily, and as Alana sank down onto him, he surged upwards. She was so turned on, and the sensation was so shockingly thrilling, that she came right there and then, her inner muscles clamping around him in a series of minor convulsions.

      She dropped her head into his shoulder. He was still rigid within her, filling her. ‘Oh God, I’m sorry …’ She was breathing heavily.

      He pulled her back, tipped her head up, pressed a kiss to her mouth, slid his tongue between her soft lips. She could feel him stir within her, and inexplicably she could feel herself start to respond again, not being allowed to fall back to earth; she was kept on a high plateau of sensation that threatened to go even higher.

      ‘We’ve only just started.’

      With a slow, burning intensity, Pascal moved within her like a devil magician. He brought her to the edge only to stop, then start again. In a fever of prolonged ecstasy, skin slick with sweat, it was only when he knew he couldn’t hold back that he allowed free rein to his movements, which became urgent. His big hands moulded her back, held her hips steady. Alana was beyond words. Everything in her was reverent, the orgasm that broke through her just before his was so powerful that she had to keep her eyes locked on Pascal’s or she would have disintegrated into pieces.

      Pascal had never felt anything like it. He’d almost have believed that she hadn’t climaxed, if he hadn’t felt her body contracting powerfully around his. But she’d done it with such quiet intensity that it had made his own completion burst up in a never-ending stream of exquisite pleasure. Only her biting her lip at the zenith of sensation had shown any of her internal experience.

      Alana shook all over. Pascal pulled her into his chest and cradled her against him. They were still joined intimately, and at that moment she couldn’t ever imagine being separated from this man. She’d never felt like this with her husband, not even in the early days of their marriage when she’d had so many hopes and dreams of a happy future.

      Something extraordinary had just happened, and she hated to admit it.

      * * *

      When they reached his apartment, Pascal carried her straight up to his bathroom and ran them a bath. Then they made love. Again. And now she lay here, blissed out. Replete. Complete.

      She heard a movement and looked up. Pascal was holding out a big robe.

      ‘Come on, or you’ll turn into a prune.’

      Something in his eyes made her hold back a quick, joky comment. She stood up and reached for the robe, only to have him pull it back from her reach.

      ‘Pascal, come on.’ She groaned and immediately went to cover her breasts. She was totally exposed in the low lighting of the intimate bathroom. And it was silly to feel this way when they’d just made love, first in the back of his car and then in the bath. She flushed.

      ‘Let your hands down. Please.’ His voice sounded rough. ‘I want to look at you, Alana—will you let me look at you? As you are?’

      Fear and embarrassment gave way to something else. The desire in his eyes emboldened her. She carefully and slowly climbed out of the bath and stood beside it. She dropped her arms and watched as his eyes travelled down, resting and dwelling on parts of her body that she’d certainly never inspected so intensely herself.

      After a long, long minute his eyes met hers again. They were dark. He stepped forward and put the robe around her, drying her, before slipping her arms into the sleeves and tying it securely around her waist. He smoothed back her damp hair and ran a finger down her cheek.

      ‘I could quite easily have you again right now, on the floor … And all sorts of other images came into my mind as I looked at you.’ Pascal wrestled for a moment inwardly with the very real and disturbing reality that he could take her again right now. The knowledge made him cautious. ‘But there’s time …’

      ‘Time,’ Alana said stupidly, suddenly wanting very much instead that they could make love on the floor right now. She had an erotic flash of an image: kneeling at his feet and taking him into her mouth. The shocking heat that inflamed her made her feel weak. Where had that desire come from? She’d never even done that with Ryan. She’d never even thought that she found it sexy. But the thought of driving Pascal to the edge of all endurance was intoxicating СКАЧАТЬ