whispered.
He gave an almost cruel smile as he lifted his dark head to look down at her. He would make her beg. Women liked to beg. âNot yet,â he told her, on a silky taunt.
âPlease.â
He shook his head. âNot yet,â he repeated, on a low, provocative growl.
He wasnât going to stop what he was doing, Kate realisedâ¦
He wasnât going to stopâ¦
And, to her utter disbelief, Kate felt the inexorable onslaught of fulfilment. The great tearing warmth ofâ¦ofâ¦
âGiovanni!â She said his name urgently. âOh!â She opened her eyes very wide. âThis is the best!â she gasped in astonishment. âIâm comingâ¦â
He could see that for himself from the sudden stiffening of her limbs, the way her back arched, the increased slickagainst his fingers, and then the slow, shuddering spasms which made her cry out loud.
He waited until she was nearly done, and then he straddled her, two taut thighs on either side of her hips, and thrust into her while her body was still pulsing with pleasure.
Her eyes flew open at the renewed sensation. He was so very big. So huge that he filled her completely. But, more than that, it felt so right to have him inside her. As though all her life her body had been yearning to have Giovanni Calverri make love to her like this.
He moved. Over and over. And as he moved he kissed her, and she gave herself up to the sweetness of those kisses, not thinking, not even caring about whether this was right or wrong, because nothing had ever felt this good.
He wanted to prolong it, to make it last forever. He had always been able to do that. Even as a teenager, when the newness of physical pleasure had threatened to overwhelm him. But now he felt the stealthy steal of orgasm come to claim him before he was prepared for it. He tried to fight it. For a moment he almost managed it. But when he felt her begin to pulse around him once more he knew that he was lost.
âKate,â he said almost brokenly, the first and only time he had said her name since their bodies had joined with such bitter-sweet communion.
And Kate wept with some strange, deep emotion against his bare shoulder as she came again, feeling him begin to shudder deep inside her, arms closing around him tightly as she wished that this night could never end.
Â
Giovanni awoke to unfamiliar shadows, his senses leaping into perception in a split-second as he tried to work out just where he was.
Dear God!
There was a sleeping woman beside him, which in itself was not strange, but he knew immediately that this was different. Her scent was different. The long red hair which the night had made dark was different.
And the sex had been different, too. Beautifully and irrevocably different.
Ruthlessly he quashed the memory as his body betrayed him once more with the stirring of desire, and he slipped silently from the bed.
He was of a race that understood secrecy. And stealthâand he had no difficulty moving without sound around the silent room to locate his clothes and shoes, which he carried from the room.
In the bathroom he dressed, glancing only once in the mirror, but once was enough. The wild glitter in his eyes told its own story. As did the darkened contours of his mouth, where she had kissed him as if she were drowning, as if she couldnât get enough of him.
His mouth twisted with self-contempt as he let himself noiselessly out of the flat into the crispness of the moonless summer night, and to where the black car was sitting reproachfully just as he had left it.
He looked up at the unlit windows of the flat as he turned the key and the engine flooded into powerful life, wondering whether she would appear, clutching a sheet perhaps, bewitching him with that pale and glorious body as she watched him drive away.
But the window remained empty, and relief coursed hotly through his veins, just as desire had heated them only hours earlier.
Two
He gave an almost cruel smile as he lifted his dark head to look down at her. He would make her beg. Women liked to beg. âNot yet,â he told her, on a silky taunt.
âPlease.â
He shook his head. âNot yet,â he repeated, on a low, provocative growl.
He wasnât going to stop what he was doing, Kate realisedâ¦
He wasnât going to stopâ¦
And, to her utter disbelief, Kate felt the inexorable onslaught of fulfilment. The great tearing warmth ofâ¦ofâ¦
âGiovanni!â She said his name urgently. âOh!â She opened her eyes very wide. âThis is the best!â she gasped in astonishment. âIâm comingâ¦â
He could see that for himself from the sudden stiffening of her limbs, the way her back arched, the increased slickagainst his fingers, and then the slow, shuddering spasms which made her cry out loud.
He waited until she was nearly done, and then he straddled her, two taut thighs on either side of her hips, and thrust into her while her body was still pulsing with pleasure.
Her eyes flew open at the renewed sensation. He was so very big. So huge that he filled her completely. But, more than that, it felt so right to have him inside her. As though all her life her body had been yearning to have Giovanni Calverri make love to her like this.
He moved. Over and over. And as he moved he kissed her, and she gave herself up to the sweetness of those kisses, not thinking, not even caring about whether this was right or wrong, because nothing had ever felt this good.
He wanted to prolong it, to make it last forever. He had always been able to do that. Even as a teenager, when the newness of physical pleasure had threatened to overwhelm him. But now he felt the stealthy steal of orgasm come to claim him before he was prepared for it. He tried to fight it. For a moment he almost managed it. But when he felt her begin to pulse around him once more he knew that he was lost.
âKate,â he said almost brokenly, the first and only time he had said her name since their bodies had joined with such bitter-sweet communion.
And Kate wept with some strange, deep emotion against his bare shoulder as she came again, feeling him begin to shudder deep inside her, arms closing around him tightly as she wished that this night could never end.
Â
Giovanni awoke to unfamiliar shadows, his senses leaping into perception in a split-second as he tried to work out just where he was.
Dear God!
There was a sleeping woman beside him, which in itself was not strange, but he knew immediately that this was different. Her scent was different. The long red hair which the night had made dark was different.
And the sex had been different, too. Beautifully and irrevocably different.
Ruthlessly he quashed the memory as his body betrayed him once more with the stirring of desire, and he slipped silently from the bed.
He was of a race that understood secrecy. And stealthâand he had no difficulty moving without sound around the silent room to locate his clothes and shoes, which he carried from the room.
In the bathroom he dressed, glancing only once in the mirror, but once was enough. The wild glitter in his eyes told its own story. As did the darkened contours of his mouth, where she had kissed him as if she were drowning, as if she couldnât get enough of him.
His mouth twisted with self-contempt as he let himself noiselessly out of the flat into the crispness of the moonless summer night, and to where the black car was sitting reproachfully just as he had left it.
He looked up at the unlit windows of the flat as he turned the key and the engine flooded into powerful life, wondering whether she would appear, clutching a sheet perhaps, bewitching him with that pale and glorious body as she watched him drive away.
But the window remained empty, and relief coursed hotly through his veins, just as desire had heated them only hours earlier.
Two
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