Breaking the Limits: Rafe & Nicole Book 2 (6 page)

Chapter 5

Sliding the bookcase aside on well-oiled hinges, Rafe set Nicole down in what was essentially a glass structure cantilevered out over the original garderobe. The area was considerably larger than most medieval toilets but then the comte had been a man given to luxury. With the exception of the original mosaic floor, however, the space now resembled a glass eyrie, albeit a bulletproof one, with one-way glass available at the flick of a switch.

‘Wow! What a glorious sight!’ Nicole stared, transfixed, as the entire island and miles of azure sea lay spread out beneath her.

‘It’s relaxing, isn’t it?’

Her gaze swung to Rafe. ‘Not exactly the word I’d use unless you consider the view from the Eiffel Tower relaxing. This is stunning!’

Since he actually did think the view from the Eiffel Tower was relaxing, a reply would entail more discussion than they had time for. ‘Glad you like it,’ he said, politely. ‘But . . .’ He tapped the sports watch on his wrist, then motioned to the shower. ‘We’re on a tight schedule.’

‘So no playing in the shower?’ One brow arched in playful query. ‘Is that what you’re saying?’

He laughed. ‘You’re gonna kill me.’

‘Oh.’ A tiny start. ‘Sorry. It’s just that you make me feel so . . . ’ Her voice trailed off, her cheeks flushing pink.

‘Hey, I was joking.’ He leaned in close. ‘Same here, twenty-four/seven. But you want this now, we’re gonna have to set records.’

Her smile was so alight with pleasure he decided never to make stupid jokes when she needed him. Nice thought. Being needed by Nicole.

She winked. ‘Think you can keep up?’

‘Why don’t I try,’ he drawled, a man with a sexual skill-set honed to perfection by considerable schooling and even more practice.

It wasn’t a fair contest; it never would be.

Turning on the shower, he had her inside and up against the glass wall a few seconds later, her legs wrapped around his waist a second after that and in one smooth move his dick filled her completely. The view over her shoulder included the harbour and Anton’s yacht – at least until the shower steamed up. Not that he needed added incentive. His selfish interlude wasn’t going to last much longer.

Too many people needed his attention.

Including Nicole who was part confident, part defenceless, pure magic and
his
. Trapping her between his hard body and the wall, he drove into her slick pussy over and over, plunging deep, then deeper still, his fingers sinking into her ass, holding her in place so he could zero in on all her special party zones. So he could make her pant faster and louder, so she got hotter and wetter, so his dick slid in and out smooth as silk.

‘Oh God, oh God, oh God.’ Breathy, gasping, shuddering from the rush of pleasure lighting up her nerve endings, she tightened her arms around his neck, stretched up to kiss him, impatient to feel him everywhere, trembling, heady with need, wanting to eat him alive.

At first he smiled against her wild, frantic kisses, then growled when she nipped his lip. ‘Careful,’ he warned.

She nodded, then shook her head. ‘Can’t.’ And bit him again.

He went motionless for a stark moment. ‘You need some training.’ His voice was taut with restraint.

‘No.’

He gazed at her, exhaled a long, slow breath. ‘Just fucking behave, okay?’

‘Yes, yes,’ she whispered, breathless. ‘You’re the boss.’

The subliminal outrage in her voice warred with her incandescent gaze; he should have let it go. If he didn’t have tooth marks on his lip, he might have. Or if his default setting wasn’t seriously autocratic. ‘Tell me you mean it,’ he muttered, absolutism in every syllable.

She looked startled at first, then her gaze sharpened and if she’d had breath to speak she would have told him to fuck off.

He exhaled hard, told himself to relax, told himself not to even think about going Neanderthal; seriously, there was no excuse for that kind of asshole behaviour. Other than
his wanting to own her, he supposed
. He lasted maybe five seconds more before he thought,
fuck it all to hell
,
and bracing his feet, flexed his powerful legs, and rammed his dick up her slick, pulsing heat with the entire force of his lower body. At the stunning impact, their breathing faltered, every libidinous nerve was hammered with raw, riveting sensation and the game suddenly ticked up a notch.

Her heart racing, the hot, feverish centre of her body gorged and vibrating, overwhelmed and frantic, Nicole sucked in a breath, then bit Rafe’s lip so hard that if it had been anyone else, he would have dropped her on the floor.

She wasn’t anyone else though. She was his compulsion, deeply fucked up as that was with his world going to hell. She was in his heart and bones, his smart-ass, no bullshit, stubborn princess who made life worth living. He suddenly smiled – recognizing the blinding joy in what had always been a cliché.

But she was whimpering – a sound of impatient need – so he dismissed joyful epiphanies, licked the blood off his lip and hurried the fuck up. Adjusting his dick to exert more pressure on her swollen clit and G-spot, he slid into her honeyed warmth and pressed upward gently, indulgently, deeply until she was shivering, panting, barely holding on. ‘Good to go?’ A rhetorical question; he was already shifting her hips to refine the sensory impact of his dick on her throbbing tissue, forcing her thighs wider, waiting patiently for her pliant flesh to slowly stretch and take him all.
Oh fuck.

She gasped, lavishly filled with cock, sensory overload hitting her square-on and fast. Burying her face in Rafe’s shoulder, she held on tightly as the next rush of blazing-hot rapture spiralled through her sex, curled her toes, made her body hum and spark.

‘Close? Look at me.’

She was slick, panting, rocking gently with the pressure building inside her; it took enormous effort to look up.

‘You my girl?’ A bare, simple question, the undercurrent of earnestness no more than a brief wing-beat of sound.

Teetering on the edge, too overwrought to speak, she gave him a shaky nod.

‘Good,’ he whispered, his golden gaze transfixed for a moment. Then he winked. ‘Show me how much.’ Flexing his fingers, he broadened his grip on her ass, withdrew slightly, then leaned forward, forced her legs even wider, and with a soft, barbaric growl, drove in hard and fast, burying himself balls deep.

She quietly shuddered, feeling as though she might detonate any second with her body stretched taut, with an unbearable, exhilarating desire drumming through her senses.

Dragging in a rough breath, he pushed in a carefully calculated distance more, measuring her ardour, his audacity and the outer limits of sensation. ‘Feel that?’ he asked, husky and low. ‘Right. Fucking. Here?’ It wasn’t really a question; the answer clear. She was trembling helplessly, her body slippery wet, hot enough to fuel the universe, beautiful enough to have him thinking of for ever. Or more realistically, beautiful enough to keep his dick epically inspired. So breathe in, breathe out, make his little princess happy and get the hell out on Anton’s yacht. Here goes: he eased in just a little deeper, barely moving.

She let out a tiny shriek.

He stopped. ‘Too much?’

She shook her head, the stabbing pleasure whirling raw-edged and shimmering through her senses.

He hesitated; she was incredibly tight.

She whispered, feverishly, ‘Don’t you dare stop!’

One of them had to be sensible; there was no question who. So despite her frantic protests, he withdrew slightly, ‘Hey, hey, look I’m back’, made sure to keep a tight leash on his libido and took her over the finish line with a cautious, limited penetration and a well-behaved dick that was super-attentive to Nicole’s quivering, insanely hot and distractingly tight pussy.

When she climaxed, her scream was muffled by the gush of the shower.

He was only seconds behind her, although, after that carefully executed, do-no-harm, play-nice finish to their fuck, he came with such savage intensity he forgot to breathe.

Caught up in a fierce, heart-pounding orgasm, Nicole clung to Rafe against the fury of her climax tearing through her at lightning speed, rolling over her with a violence that left her dizzy. ‘No more,’ she whispered, weakly, as her body suddenly went slack.

‘Good idea,’ Rafe muttered, gasping for air.

‘Need . . . rest,’ Nicole murmured, the words half lost in his shoulder.

She was a burn-to-rubble spendthrift with her passions, wild and greedy. No messing around; expecting him to keep up. He smiled. No problem.

Still breathing hard, he shifted her into his arms with a casual strength, carried her over to one of the filigreed marble benches, set her on his lap, held her close, and wondered how he’d ever thought he could keep her at a safe distance. Hell, he was going to have a hard on and a smile on his face until the day he flew out of here.

She was a surprise.

He’d misjudged.

Nicole slowly lifted her head.

‘Welcome back, Pussycat.’ He looked at her with an unconcealed assessment. ‘You okay?’

Sliding her arms around his neck, she gazed up at him and smiled sweetly. ‘I’m crazy for you. Otherwise I’m okay. You’re perfect, you know.’ She gave him a wry, sideways look. ‘Seriously, break-the-mould perfect.’

He grinned. ‘Am I’m hearing the endorphins talking?’

‘Maybe, but it’s me being sincere too.’ Her blue gaze slowly swept his face. ‘Even if sincerity is against the rules.’

‘We don’t have any rules. It’s just us,’ he said, softly. ‘And you’re pretty damn perfect yourself.’

She took a deep breath. ‘I like that it’s just us.’

‘We’re in our own little bubble, Tiger.’

‘Where the world can’t touch us.’

‘Yup.’ He drew in a slow breath.

‘Don’t say it.’ Her eyes were wide with appeal. ‘Please. Not yet.’ She tried to keep her lip from quivering. ‘I know, we had to leave five minutes ago.’

‘We’ll come back.’ His voice was ultra-soft.

She knew what he meant; she even understood why he’d spoken so quietly. ‘We mustn’t make too much noise or we might break the spell.’

‘Something like that.’ He smiled faintly. ‘So much for sanity.’

‘Much overrated,’ she whispered. ‘Since I met you.’

He sighed. ‘I know.’ But mystical feeling aside, he was a logical man and they were expected on Anton’s yacht. ‘One kiss, then we do have to go.’ He dipped his head. ‘I’ll meet you halfway.’

She stretched upward and their lips met in a kiss so replete with meaning it should have been wreathed in sonnets and troubadour songs. But a moment later, he raised his head, swung her up into his arms, came to his feet and stood motionless within the cocoon of steamed glass. ‘Our timing could have been better,’ he said, quietly.

Nicole trailed a finger down his strong neck. ‘I’ll take what I can get.’

‘You have it all, Pussycat. Everything I’ve got.’

Until I don’t.
But she smiled. ‘Good. You can’t back out.’

‘Never. My word on it.’

They were both playing the game, unwilling to shatter the dream until cold reality intruded. Their dinner tonight perhaps prelude to the widening complexities.

‘We’re going to be late. So,’ he said with another sigh, setting her on her feet. ‘How fast can you shower?’

Nicole grinned. ‘Watch and learn, dude.’

A few minutes later, Rafe opened the shower door, waved her through, found them towels, then showed Nicole into his dressing room next door. ‘Clothes over there.’ He indicated a long span of teak cabinets on the tower wall, his voice one of simple clarification. ‘His and hers.’

Her eyes flared wide. ‘My clothes are here?’ Had her screams been heard?

He was beginning to recognize her unease with servants. ‘Relax. Our luggage was carried up while we were still at the landing pad talking to Ganz and Carlos.’

‘Whew.’

He smiled. ‘You’ll get used to having staff.’

‘No I won’t.’

‘They’re always around, Pussycat. You have a problem with anyone, let me know. I’ll fire them,’ he added, playfully. After all, it wasn’t as though she was poverty-stricken herself. Despite his warning, Carlos had done a minimum vetting of Nicole.

‘I hope you’re not patronising me.’

‘I wouldn’t dare.’ He looked amused. ‘But we’re late, so let’s leave this discussion until some other time. Would you like help dressing?’

She laughed. ‘You never like to argue.’

‘Waste of time.’

‘I like speaking my mind.’

A lift of his brows. ‘I’ve noticed.’ He held out his hands. ‘Help or not?’

She knew when to quit. ‘I don’t need help. I’m a speed dresser.’

Not that he didn’t know that by now, but if there
had
been time to argue, he would have had her explain exactly what she meant by speed dresser – a concept he was overly familiar with. Instead, he controlled his temper, gave her a bland smile and moved toward his closets. Anton had been snappish when he normally wasn’t. No point in aggravating him; his mother wouldn’t approve.

Rafe dressed more quickly than Nicole, but then he’d set records exiting beds, bedrooms, and sundry fucking venues. He knew the drill.

Running a brush through his wet hair, he tied it back with a short black cord, then slipped on a custom-made white shirt from Borelli in Naples, no tie, boxers, threw on a navy linen bespoke suit, and carried a pair of black sandals with him as he left the dressing room. ‘I need a drink,’ he said over his shoulder. ‘Take your time.’

A casual courtesy, a selfish impulse as well. He needed alcohol before facing the inquisition.

Nicole found her clothes; along with those Rafe had given her, they were hanging in the closets designated as hers, or folded away in drawers. Debating her choices, she decided on one of the two dresses she’d brought with her and stepped into the bareback navy silk Céline dress. Pulling it up over her hips, she zipped it to the waist at the back, slid her arms into the long sleeves, slipped the dress over her shoulders and buttoned the two buttons at her nape. Since time was limited, she twisted her damp hair into a loose, fishtail braid, chose pearls for her ears and stepped into her silver heels. She took one last look in the wall of mirrored doors before she walked through the bookcase door Rafe had left open.