She had no wits left with which to think; instinct was her only guide. So she left the words unsaid, sobbed instead as her body started to convulse.
And he slowed.
Thrust harder, deeper, but slower.
So she felt every tiny slither as her senses unraveled, felt every last fraction of her helplessness as she climaxed more powerfully than she ever had before.
Tony raised his head and watched her, her ivory limbs silvered by the moonlight as she came apart in his arms. He drank in the sight, one he’d needed, one the prowling beast inside him had simply had to have.
Sunk to the hilt in her body, bathed in its scalding heat, he set his jaw and relentlessly drove
her through the longest, most extended climax he’d ever forced on any woman. The soft strangled cries that fell from her lips were balm to his raging soul; the ripples of her release, the contractions that beckoned, her body helplessly gripping and releasing his erection, soothed that most primitive side of him.
It would be an easy matter to finish with her there, but that wasn’t what he wanted. Tonight he needed more.
He waited until her muscles relaxed, until she was limp, wholly pliant in his arms. Then he lifted her from him, simultaneously stood, and carried her to the bed. He laid her on the coverlet, then stepped back and stripped off his clothes.
Then he joined her.
Propped beside her, he ran a hand down over her back, over the smooth globes of her bottom. Slowly, surely, he roused her again, then positioned her curled over her knees before him. He entered her slowly, eyes closed, savoring every fraction of an inch as her soft, swollen sheath closed about him.
Then he rode her.
Slowly at first, then without restraint.
Until she was sobbing, hair threshing as she struggled for breath, incoherent in her need, totally wild, completely wanton.
She was usually neither; that last rein of restraint she’d not before released had snapped, broken.
He savored every second of her abandonment, of her complete and absolute surrender, listened to her cries as she fell from the peak—then found his own surrender beckoning.
This time he went willingly. He knew, in some dark corner of his mind, just what he’d been doing. Knew it wouldn’t work.
Didn’t care.
He’d had to do it—to show her all there was, to tempt that side of her he didn’t think she realized she possessed. She was a deeply sensual woman, but exploring her sensuality, opening her eyes to its true nature, had only more clearly demonstrated his own weakness, his own vulnerability.
This was one battlefield on which he was helpless. This was one fight in which there was no enemy.
Only surrender.
On a groan, he did, gave her all he was, all he could ever be.
Spent, he collapsed, then gathered her to him. He’d given her far more than his body. He’d lost his soul. And his heart. And perhaps even more.
TWENTY
HE LEFT ALICIA’S SIDE JUST AFTER DAWN, EARLIER THAN recent habit but after last night, he wanted nothing more than to have done with A. C.
After last night…he had even less idea what was wrong between them. Something, yes, but he’d be damned if he had a clue. If he pushed, twelve hours might result in them unmasking A. C., then he would be free to devote himself to the most important endeavor of his life—wooing Alicia, even winning her anew, if that’s what was required.
Frowning, he left his apartments. After last night, he could hardly have missed the fact that she was as he’d hoped, openly, generously, totally his. If that was so, then what else was there? From where did their problem, whatever it was, spring?
Confusion reigned. Reaching Alicia’s door, he determinedly put it from him, turned the knob, and entered.
She was still asleep. He sat on the bed and looked down at her, then gently shook her shoulder.
“Hmm?” She opened her eyes; he notched up her lack of surprise when she focused on him as a minor victory.