Читать книгу Scandals Of The Powerful - Sarah Morgan, Carol Marinelli - Страница 14

CHAPTER FIVE

IT WASN’T a kiss; it was sex with their mouths.

His tongue was everywhere, his teeth on hers, his hands the only sensible part of them because he took off his jacket and removed his holster. The holster, he lowered to the floor. The jacket, he pulled condoms from and then threw onto the car as he lowered his mouth again, his hands lifting her dress, and not just to her hips. Their lips parted a moment as he tugged it over her head and then tore at her panties.

She had never known nor imagined anything like it. He’d felt huge beneath the fabric but exposed now there should surely be some apprehension—but instead there was only want. She took him in her hands and heard his moan of approval as she ran her finger over the tip and he tore open the wrapper.

Taking it from him, Emily slid it on. She wanted to pause, she wanted to taste, she wanted so many things, but with her orgasm building, there was time only for need. She thought he would lower her onto the car, but sensing her arousal, he lifted her onto him and Emily wrapped her legs around his hips and clung on. The second he was inside her it hit, but then, he had been turning her on since the elevator.

She lost her head and he took her hair, claiming her mouth as he pulled her hard down onto him. He stilled for just a moment, suckling her tongue as he held himself back from joining her in release, luxuriating in the feel of her hot centre pulsing around him, of her mouth tensing in orgasm and then slowly kissing him back as it faded.

He lowered her onto the bonnet and moved the jacket beneath her. Soon he would let himself join her in abandon, but not yet.

‘Anton.’ She wanted a moment. She could feel the warmth from the engine beneath her and the heat between her legs. He was looking down not at the sensuous coupling of their sexes but straight into her eyes, and it was more breathtaking than the sensual thrusting as he moved deeply within.

She was shocked by the tenderness that held her gaze as the guarded, remote man faded and she glimpsed firsthand what being made love to by Anton felt like. His eyes adored her, his passion blatant, another thunderbolt to her heart.

As if regretting revealing so much, he started to move faster, his hands pulling down her bra and exposing her breasts, his rhythm building, but he wanted again that elusive pleasure. He wanted to care.

Anton just gave in then, lowered himself onto her, wrapped his arm beneath her, and she found out then what it was like to be truly adored by Anton. She was sobbing as he thrust within her and she shattered into an orgasm that came from no place she had ever been. Heat seared not just from her centre; every muscle in her body seemed to contract as she arched into him. He was kissing her eyes, her cheeks, her ears, stunned at what had been unleashed. She was in the arms of the devil, yet he devoured her as if she were a saint. She bathed in his moans, in his caress, and then in the rush of still silence that warred with the pulse of his release within. She lay there spent beneath him, grateful for the hand that a little while later lifted her up.

He helped her into his jacket and, she noted, did not meet her eyes.

She teetered on legs that were a little unsteady and he tapped in a code that opened a door.

‘There’s no-one home, I hope.’

‘Just us.’

She was perhaps the worst investigative journalist in the world around Anton, because until that moment she hadn’t really questioned why he drove such a luxurious sports car. She had been more focused on Anton than the outside appearance of his house, but as she stepped into opulence, as the lights came on and unveiled a home more stunning than any she had been in, she realised there were questions she should surely ask.

She stood as he opened huge glass doors and looked out beyond the pool and to the ocean behind.

Anton’s wealth far outreached that of any detective she had ever come in contact with.

Or rather, any honest one.