Читать книгу The Royals Collection - Ким Лоренс, Rebecca Winters - Страница 47
ОглавлениеCONFUSION FLITTED ACROSS the sweet oval of Chanel’s face. “What?”
“Say it feels good.”
She didn’t have to speak her refusal—it was there in the way her body stiffened and she averted her gaze.
“Look at me,” he demanded, his fingers poised to give more pleasure but not offering it. “Look at me and say it.”
Her storm-cloud gaze came back to his, her mouth working, no words coming out.
“You are a woman. You can acknowledge your own pleasure, Chanel. I believe in you.”
“It’s not that.” The word cut off as if her air had run out. She took a deep breath and let it out, her tongue coming out to wet her lips. “I know sex is supposed to feel good.”
“Do you?”
“I’ve read books.”
“Erotic books.”
“Yes.”
“So, say it.”
“You want to strip me bare,” she accused.
He saw no point in denying it. “Yes.”
“Why?”
“You have to let go.”
“You never let go.”
“I am the experienced one here. If I let go of my control, we’d both be in trouble.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“Only because you haven’t done this before.”
She didn’t deny his words. “I like it.”
“I know.” He pressed just slightly, giving her a taste of what was to come.
She moaned, her head falling back, her eyelids sliding down to cover the vulnerability in her gaze. “So, why do I have to say it?”
“For me. Say it for me.”
“It feels good.” The words came out in a low, throaty whisper infused with sincerity.
Oh, yes, this woman would learn to hold nothing back.
He rewarded her with more pleasure until she was rocking against him with gasping breaths. “Demyan!”
“What, sérdeńko?”
“You know! You have to know.”
“This?” he asked as he pushed up to rub his hardness against her, pinching her nipples at the same time.
“Yes.”
He did it again, making sure to continue the friction against that bundle of nerves through the damp silk of her panties. “Let go, Chanel.”
“I...”
He didn’t want arguments. He wanted her surrender. “Come for me, Chanel. You are mine.”
And unused to this level of pleasure, she came apart, her body arching into a stiff contortion of delight while a keening wail sounded from her throat.
Oh, yes, this woman belonged to him. Her body knew it, even if her mind was still in some doubt.
He let the shivers of aftershock finish, concentrating on gaining his own breath and a measure of mental fortitude. When he was sure he could do it without his own limbs giving way, he tucked one arm under her bottom and the other against her back and stood with her secure in his hold.
Her head rose from where it had come to rest against his shoulder, her face still flushed with pleasure, her gray gaze meeting his. “What... Where?”
“Your first time will not happen on a sofa, no matter how comfortable.”
“It already did.”
He shook his head. “That was not sex.”
“But it was my first orgasm with another person.”
Perhaps that small fact helped to explain why she was still a virgin, too.
He didn’t repeat his shock at her age, or his disgust with her previous partners. “It will be the first of many, I promise you.”
She swallowed audibly, but nodded with appreciative enthusiasm.
He felt his mouth curve into a very rare and equally genuine smile.
How had she remained untouched so long?
This woman was sweetly sensual and engagingly honest. Far from socially inept. Demyan found her fascinating.
It did not bother him at all, though, that she would be giving her body to him and only him. He would honor the gift and she would find no reason to regret it.
He made the vow to himself, and Demyan never broke his word. Chanel was still trying to catch her breath when Demyan laid her oh so carefully on the bed after yanking back the covers.
Sexual demand radiated off him like heat from a nuclear reactor. Yet there was no impatience in the way he handled her.
The bedding? Yes. It lay in disarray on the floor, his powerful jerks pulling the sheet and blanket that had been tucked between the mattress and box spring completely away.
But her?
He settled with a gentle touch that belied his obvious masculine need.
“I was going to wait.” He shrugged out of his suit jacket, letting the designer garment drop to the floor without any outward concern about what that might do to it.
“Why?”
“It seemed the thing to do.”
“Because things are moving so fast between us,” she said rather than asked.
He only loosened his tie and undid the top buttons on his shirt before pulling the whole thing over his head in one swift movement. “We will not be waiting.”
His torso was chiseled in that way really fit men with natural strength were. Dark curls covered his chest, narrowing into a V that disappeared into the waistband of his trousers. She wanted to see where that trail of sexy hair led.
She might be a virgin, but she was pretty sure she wasn’t a shy one.
“You are beautiful,” she breathed.
“Men are not beautiful.” But his eyes smiled at the compliment.
“The statue of David is beautiful.”
“That is art.”
“So are you.”
He shook his head, his hands going to his trouser button. “I am a flesh-and-blood man, never doubt it.”
How could she, with all that flesh staring her in the face?
His trousers slid down his legs, revealing CK black knit boxers that conformed to every ridge of muscle and the biggest ridge of all. His erection.
Her mouth went dry, the moisture going straight to her palms. “You’re big, aren’t you?”
“I’ve never compared myself to other men.” With that he shucked out of his boxers, leaving his very swollen, very rigid length on display.
“According to scientific studies, the average penile length is five to five-point-seven inches in length when erect.” And Demyan was definitely longer, unless her eyes were deceiving her.
But Chanel was a scientist who had conducted enough measurements she could usually guess within a centimeter’s accuracy.
He frowned and stopped at the side of the bed, his erection bobbing with the movement even as it curved upward toward his belly. That wasn’t usual, either, she’d read. Most men erected perpendicularly with a slight leaning toward one side. Some even had a small downward angle.
For Demyan’s hardness to be curving upward, it had to be extremely ready for intercourse.
“How do you know that?” he demanded with amusement in his voice.
“I read. A lot.”
“You cannot believe everything you read in your Ukrainian erotica.”
“Of course not.”
His brow rose, the mockery there.
“I read that particular fact in a scientific journal.”
His dark gaze pinned her to the bed, though he had yet to join her with his incredibly gorgeous naked body. “We have better things to do than discuss frivolous scientific research.”
“It isn’t frivolous to the tens of thousands of men who have been feeling inadequate because of the supposed average lengths gleaned from self-measurement.”
“What you are telling me is that men measure themselves as larger than they are?” He definitely sounded amused now.
“I don’t think you would.”
“I would not measure myself at all.” From his tone, he found the idea of doing so absolutely ridiculous.
“I think I’d like to measure you.”
“No.”
“With my hand.”
The erection in question jumped at her words and it was her turn to smile.
“Do not tease,” he warned.
“I’m not teasing.”
“You are smiling.”
“I’m just really happy that you react to me so strongly.” So strongly in fact that despite the fact she’d led them down one of the conversational byways that always annoyed others, his visible response to her had not dimmed in the least.
“You are a very sexy woman.”
She couldn’t help laughing at that assertion, but she didn’t accuse him of lying. Honest desire burned in the brown depths of his eyes.
“It is time I did something about your lack of focus.” He didn’t sound mad about it, though.
She just nodded, wanting more of what they’d done in the living room, more kisses, more touching, more of that amazingly intimate connection.
“First we need to get you naked, too.”
She’d already kicked her heels off in the living room and she wasn’t wearing panty hose. That didn’t leave much to get rid of.
She started tugging her skirt up, only to have his hands join her in the effort. Only somehow he made the slide of silk up her body into a series of sensual caresses, so she was shivering with renewed passion by the time he pulled the green fabric over her head.
He tossed it away.
“My mother would be very annoyed if she saw you treating clothes the way you do.” Especially high-end designer ones.
“Your mother has no place in our bedroom.”
“It’s not our bedroom.”
“You belong to me. This room belongs to you. Therefore, it is ours.”
She couldn’t push a denial of his claim through her lips. There was too much truth to it.
It was almost scary, but she wasn’t afraid.
In fact, that part of her that had felt alone in the world since her mother’s marriage to Perry Saltzman warmed with an inexplicable sense of belonging.
“She’s still my mother,” was all Chanel could think to say.
“And she always will be, but her views and opinions about you are skewed by grief and a lack of understanding. Therefore, they have no place in our life together.”
“We don’t have a life together,” she said with more vehemence than she felt.
But it was insane, this instant connection, his claim he planned a future with her. It just wasn’t real. Couldn’t be.
“We do. It starts with this.” His hands reached behind her to unhook her bra clasp, sight unseen.
Her nipples, already tightened into hard points from his earlier manipulations, contracted further from the cooled air brushing across them.
There was no stifling the shiver that went through her in response to the extra stimulation.
His smile was predatory. “You have very sensitive breasts.”
“Nipples,” she couldn’t help correcting. It wasn’t her entire boob responding, was it?
He brushed his fingertips along the side of her breast, sliding forward, but not touching the nipple.
Desire coiled low in her belly, her body arching toward his.
He did it again. “Very responsive.”
“You don’t like to be wrong, do you?” she asked in a voice that hitched every other syllable with her gasping breaths.
“It is a rare occurrence.”
“Arrogant.”
“Certain.”
“Same thing.”
“It is not.” Then he kissed her, preventing any more words.
It was a sneaky way to end an argument, but she couldn’t make herself mind. Not when it felt so wonderful. It might be only their lips that were connected, but she felt as if he was touching her to the very depths of her soul.
He pulled back, their breath coming in harsh gasps between them. “One thing left.”
“What?” she asked, nothing but his lips making any sense in that moment.
“Your panties.”
Were surplus to requirements. She got the picture but found she was hopeless in the face of doing something about it.
It was okay, though. His long masculine fingers were sliding between her hips and the silk and then it was being tugged down, baring the last bit of her to him.
“There will be nothing between us,” he growled, as if he could read her mind.
She looked up at him, their gazes locking, and what she saw in his left her in no doubt he wasn’t just talking about clothing.
He’d pushed her in the living room, demanding she acknowledge her own pleasure, her own desires, this crazy thing happening between them.
He was going to push her further now.
“It’s just sex,” she claimed with a desperate attempt to believe her own words.
“We are making love, locking our lives together.”
“This isn’t real.”
“It is very real.”
“Please...”
He cupped her face, the move one she was becoming quite familiar with and incidentally learning to love. “Please, what?”
“Just tonight? Can it just be about tonight?”
He lowered his head until their lips almost brushed. “No.”
This time, she kissed him. Couldn’t help herself and was glad she hadn’t when he took control and drew forth a response from her body that shouldn’t have been possible. Not after she’d just climaxed.
Only it was.
It was as if they were connected by live electric current, energizing, transforming every synapse in its wake, so that her body was uniquely tuned to him. The way that big body blanketed hers, his hardness rubbing against the sensitive curls at the apex of her thighs indicated he was being tuned to the same frequency.
A frequency she thought would rule her body’s responses for the rest of her life.
And if she could believe his words, it would.
The kiss pulled her out of time, suspending them in an intimacy that had no limits, not in hours and minutes, or in emotional connection.
It was beyond anything she thought two people could feel together.
His hands were everywhere, bringing pleasure, teaching her body his touch, making that indescribable pleasure spiral tighter and tighter inside her again.
She touched him, too, letting her fingertips learn his body, and just doing that gave her a level of delight she’d never known. She could caress this man, touch his naked skin and he wanted it, wanted her touch. Not just any woman’s. Hers.
An empty ache started, making her body restless for what it had never known.
As if he knew exactly what she needed, he nudged her thighs apart and adjusted his body so the head of his erection pressed against the opening to her body. However, he made no move to enter her.
The moment felt so momentous that tears washed into her eyes and trickled down her temples. He broke the kiss, lifting his head, his expression knowing.
He touched the wetness, wiping at the tears with one finger. “It is not just about tonight.”
“It’s not supposed to be this big.”
“You have waited twenty-nine years, krýxitka.”
She wasn’t a baby, not by any stretch, but having him call her one didn’t feel wrong. “But women don’t, anymore.”
“You had your reasons.”
“I want this.”
“I know.”
“You do, too.”
“Yes.”
“With me,” she confirmed, maybe needing a little more reassurance than she’d realized.
“Only you from this point forward.”
“You do not believe in infidelity?” A lot of businessmen thought it was their right when they flew out of town to leave their wedding ring in the bedside drawer of their hotel rooms.
Or so she’d read. Honestly, as awful as Perry might be toward Chanel, she couldn’t imagine him cheating on her mother. It was one of the reasons she respected him, even if she didn’t like the business shark.
She could never respect a man who didn’t understand and adhere to the true meaning of loyalty and faithfulness.
“It is too damaging to everyone involved.” There was something about Demyan’s tone that said he knew exactly what he was talking about.
She would have asked about it, but right now all she could really focus on was how much she needed him inside her. “It’s time.”
“Not yet.”
Unexpected anger welled up. “You’re not going to get bossy about this. I’m not begging.”
“I don’t want you begging. Tonight.”
“But—”
He smiled down at her, indulgence and tenderness she wasn’t even sure he was aware of glowing in his dark gaze. “You are a virgin. A certain amount of preparation will make the difference between a beautiful experience and one you never want to have to remember.”
“You make it sound so dire.”
“It can be.”
“Much experience deflowering virgins?” she asked with sarcasm and maybe just a hint of jealousy.
“Tonight is not the time for discussing past sexual encounters.”
“That isn’t what you said earlier.”
His jaw hardened but he said, “Fine. She was young. I was young. It was a disaster.”
“Did you love her?”
“Not even a little.”
“Did she love you?”
“No.” No doubt there.
“You decided to figure out how to fix the problem.” She could so see him doing that.
She might not know everything there was to about this man, but some of his basic characteristics she understood very well.
He nodded even as he shifted again so there was room for his hand to get between them. A single finger gently rubbed along her wet folds.
“That feels good,” she whispered.
“It is supposed to.”
The touch moved up, circling her clitoris. It felt so delicious she gasped with the pleasure of it.
He kissed her and then lifted his head. “Touching you is such a pleasure. You hide none of your responses from me.”
“Am I supposed to?”
“No.” Very definite. Unquestionably vehement.
“You’re kind of a control freak in bed, aren’t you?”
“Giving you pleasure takes a lot of concentration. Why would you try to hinder my efforts by lying to me?”
“I never...” She gasped as his fingers moved a certain way. “Didn’t say I would.”
“Never?” he asked.
She could have accused him of taking unfair advantage, but really? It wouldn’t have mattered if he’d asked her in the middle of the street standing ten feet away.
Her answer to that question would always be the same. “Never.”
“Thank you.” Demyan continued to touch her until she was moving restlessly beneath him.
“Please...” She wasn’t even sure what she was asking for.
Intercourse? Maybe, but what she really wanted was resolution to the storm building inside her and Chanel didn’t really care how she got it.
Even so, she was shocked when he shifted down her body, his intention clear. She’d read about this. Of course she had. Her ex-boyfriend had even wanted to do it to her, but he’d told her she’d have to shave her hair off first.
She’d refused.
Demyan didn’t seem in the least put off by the damp curls between her legs, his tongue going with unerring accuracy right to where his finger had been.
She cried out, her hips coming off the bed. His mouth followed, his ministrations with lips and tongue never pausing.
This was oral sex? This intimate kiss that led to feeling so close to someone else that there was nothing embarrassing about it?
She always thought it would bother her to have a man’s mouth there. She hadn’t refused to shave her nether region just because she was a prude back then.
Only it didn’t bother her. Not at all.
It felt so good, so perfect.
Demyan’s fingers came back to play, this time with one of them sliding just inside her as his tongue swirled over her most sensitive spot. He moved the finger in and out, going a little deeper each time until he pressed gently against her body’s barrier.
It didn’t hurt; it was not too much pressure, but it would be different when he was inside her. Wouldn’t it?
He would have to break through the barrier then. With his longer-than-average erection. That’s what had to happen next.
Only, he didn’t seem to have the script, because he kept licking, sucking and nibbling at her clitoris until she was on the verge of climax. His finger inside her continued sliding in and out of her channel, pressing just a little bit harder against the thin barrier every few times.
His other hand came up to play with her breasts and tease at her nipples, increasing the sensations below by a factor of ten. It was incredible. Amazing.
And she felt that precipice draw closer and closer. She didn’t think she was supposed to climax again before they were joined, but she didn’t worry about it. He knew what he was doing and wouldn’t let her.
Only, he didn’t seem concerned when she warned him it was getting to be too much. He only renewed his efforts, sucking harder on her clitoris and nipping it ever so gently with his teeth.
Without warning, her body splintered apart in glorious pleasure again, this time so intense she couldn’t even get enough air to scream. He didn’t stop the intimate kiss, but he gentled it, bringing her prolonged ecstasy that went on and on even as his finger pressed more insistently against that thin membrane of flesh inside.
Until, as she floated on a cloud of sensual bliss, she felt the sharp sting of pain and realized he’d broken through the barrier of her body. With his finger.
“What? Why?” she asked, the hazy peace cracking a little.
“It hurts less.” He gently withdrew his finger before placing a single soft kiss against her nether lips.
It felt like a benediction.
He moved off her and she saw him grab a corner of the sheet from the floor to wipe his face and hand before he rejoined her on the bed.
Demyan pulled her body into his still-very-aroused one, his expression very satisfied. “You are beautiful in your passion, Chanel.”
“We... Aren’t you going to...”
“Oh, yes. But only when you are ready to begin building toward climax again.”
She didn’t know what he meant, but he showed her, after cuddling her and telling her how amazing and lovely she was. After his touch and nearness once again began to draw forth need to be joined with him.
When he finally pressed inside her, she cried for the second time that night. He didn’t look in the least worried he’d hurt her, though. In fact, his expression was one of understanding overlaying utter male satisfaction.
She didn’t begrudge him one iota of it, either.
He might have had a debacle with his first virgin, but he’d made this one’s initiation into intimacy unbelievably good.
Once she started to move against him, his control slipped its leash and his passion turned harsh and exciting. She screamed her pleasure this time even as his body pounded into hers, and his shout was loud enough to make her ears ring.
Afterward he was quiet, his expression impossible to read. “You’ll want a shower.”
“Couldn’t we shower together?” she asked.
“Your bathroom isn’t meant for shared intimacies.”
She hadn’t been propositioning him, couldn’t believe he thought she had any energy left for that, but she didn’t say so.
While she was in the shower she tried to go over what had happened, but couldn’t figure out why he’d withdrawn and wondered if he’d even still be there when she came out.
