Princess (42 page)

She swallowed hard. “Are you lying?”

“Goddamn it!” he nearly screamed as fury flooded into his face. He strode toward her, yanked her to him, and caught her up in a crushing embrace. “Do I love you? Am I lying? You tell me,” he growled, and then he kissed her fiercely.

She sagged against his hard body in instant, explosive longing as he parted her lips and filled her mouth with a driving, angry kiss. He slid his hand under the mass of her hair, curling his fingers around her nape. He paused with hot, labored breath.

“Oh, woman,” he breathed, “get out of my blood.”

“Never,” she whispered.

He drew her to him and kissed her savagely. She wound her wrists around his neck and launched her all-out, final effort to make a conquest of her husband. He moaned low in his throat at her hungry kiss, his heartbeat thundering against her body. She pressed herself against him, but mentally checked her body’s craving for him. She could not afford to be swept away by his seduction. She had to keep a clear head, for she wanted him helpless with lust, begging for her.

She would use her beauty, her body, his male hungers, and any other weapon she possessed to enslave him. And then he would not want to go.

She tore herself away from the kiss and stared up at him, her eyes afire, her lips swollen.

“Get in my bed,” she whispered.

He cocked a brow at her. “My goodness. The lady knows what she wants.”

“Yes, she wants you. She wants this.” She cupped her hand and caressed his hardness through his clothes.

He licked his delicious lips, but eyed her warily from under his forelock. He wanted her but he wasn’t sure what was going on. She gloried in his uncertainty.

“What’s wrong? Scared?” she challenged him softly as she pushed him one step back toward the bed. “Surely you’re not scared of me, little Cricket, who worships the ground you walk on? What threat could I possibly be to
you
, the great Santiago? Come on, Darius. One last time before we part.” She took his hand and led him toward her bed.

Holding her hand, he followed, but at the edge of the bed he moved up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. “You’re not leaving me. Nobody’s going anywhere,” he murmured, still unable to cast off his bravado.

Sensing her advantage, she forged on with her bluff.

“I
am
leaving you,” she repeated, her heart pounding.

He was very still. Then he changed his hold on her, his right hand creeping down the front of her body, caressing her as only he could. “No, because I’m leaving you first.”

She refused to be daunted. She didn’t believe him.

“Fine. Go,” she said.

“You won’t shatter me, Serafina. Nobody is going to break me.”

“Fine.”

“I don’t need anybody.”

“Good for you.”

He tucked his fingers between her legs, stroking her through her clothes. She fought not to shudder with pleasure.

“I didn’t want this marriage. You forced me into this.”

“You mean to say that in taking my virginity, you acted in dishonor? You had no intention of marrying me?”

He bristled as he stewed over that, no doubt knowing he was caught.

“No,” he growled.

She laughed at him. “Ah, Santiago, every word from your lips is a lie. You were able to refrain from making love to me even when we lay naked together in this bed, so I know full well you could have refrained that night, too, if you had wanted to. Go on, tell your lies. I know the truth—that you need me far more than I need you.”

“I’ll tell you what I’m going to do. I’m going to take you,” he murmured, “and then I’m going to leave you.”

“We’ll see,” she said.

He pressed her gently down onto her stomach on the bed before him, rubbing her back for a moment. Then he climbed on behind her. She could feel the power and grace in his lean, exquisitely honed body as he eased down, covering her, the hard wall of his chest pressed against her back.

She was wild with excitement. She could feel his fast heartbeat, as well as his towering erection straining through his clothes, throbbing against her backside. He swept her hair aside, exposing the nape of her neck. He kissed it, his hot breath flowing down beneath her earlobe. As he tangled his fingers softly in her hair, she felt his tongue stroke her nape.

She bit her lip, closing her eyes, fighting the languorous pleasure stealing into her limbs.

His hand slid between her breast and the mattress. He squeezed gently, rhythmically, as he savored the curve of her neck with a long, open-mouthed kiss. She felt his jaws widen, then he held her nape lightly between his teeth. A barbaric surge of instinct slammed through her, rising up out of her blood, as he went still, dominating her, possessing her.

She was panting uncontrollably when the primal gesture of dominance became a kiss once more. His lips were smooth on her fiery skin. She shuddered with a sudden wave of need so wanton it shamed her.

“You’re mine,” he whispered. “Never forget it.”

“Ooh, I hate you,” she breathed.

Suddenly he rolled her onto her back and straddled her. He swooped down over her, pinning her hands above her with his own. His lips slammed upon hers, needy, demanding. He invaded her mouth with his deep, ravenous kiss, barely letting her breathe. She opened her mouth hungrily, and still he took of her, in a frenzy, as if he could never be filled, so great was his emptiness, so terrifying. Her hands shaking with desire, she touched him all over, caressing his shoulders, arms, and strong back.

His kiss was harsh as he undressed her roughly, his hands hot and shaking. Quickly frustrated with her buttons, he pulled roughly and ripped her dress open to the waist.

She didn’t even have time to gasp. His mouth clamped over hers again, his tongue ravishing her mouth while, lower, his hands shoved the torn ends aside and cupped her breasts. He groaned with pleasure. A moment later, he bent down and suckled her with a greedy purr of hunger in his throat.

She melted under the regular, insistent tug of his wet mouth at her breast. That quickly, she realized, he had almost won. Ah, but he was so much more experienced and ruthless than she was, she thought, her will dissolving in pleasure, half-enticed by his mastery. With the way he held her pinned down, she could not touch him where she wanted to, and there was little she could do to stop him. In truth, she didn’t try very hard to get free.

She could only fight the pleasure, weakening to him, struggling to keep her wits, but as warm arousal uncoiled low in her belly and spiraled through the core of her, spreading outward to her limbs, her body arched under him with a will of its own. She stopped herself with a mental curse, fighting for control. Tormenting her with her own, inner battle, he pulled her skirts up to her hips, caressed her thighs, then stroked between her legs. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment as he discovered the truth of her response.

He let out a hearty sound of satisfaction as his fingers glided in her flowing wetness. She burned for his touch even as she clawed for the strength to resist. She forbade herself to surrender. She refused to give him the satisfaction. Let him get himself hot and bothered with touching her, soon she would turn the tables on him and take him under her command.

She clamped every muscle, forcing herself to be still. He gave a soft, wicked laugh as he nuzzled her ear, his warm breath stirring tendrils of her hair, tickling her. She jerked with a bolt of pleasure when his thumb alighted on her pebble-hard center.

“So, you want to make a contest of it, do you?” he murmured.

Gritting her teeth, she did not answer. Eyes closed, she was fully focused on the dangerous source of bliss as his thumb circled lightly, languidly. Flirting with her. Teasing her.

She strained with all her strength to lie motionless. Her chest lifted and fell in short, shallow breaths, but she was poised to hold her passion for this man in check.

“Very well, my lady,” he whispered. “You force me to play dirty.”

And then he pleasured her ruthlessly.

She did not know how many times he drove her to the edge of climax, only to deny her. She did not know how much time passed, but the room grew bright and hot with day as he drowned her in sensation. Every time she caught her breath, he dunked her under again in the sea of pleasure until her need became unbearable, agonized craving, and she begged for him in mindless, barbaric demand, tearing at his clothes and pulling him down upon her sweat-slicked body. She touched his bare skin everywhere, stroking him, putting him inside her, heedless of her shame.

His black eyes glittered with victory, watching her face as he penetrated her so deeply that his tip touched the rim of her womb. He pulled back a hairbreadth, gliding against her tight inner walls, as they gripped him wetly.

Filled with him at last, she barely recognized the whimper of relief that left her lips as her own voice.
“Oh, Darius.”

“That’s right, Princesa,” he said, his low voice roughened with desire. “You be good and I’ll give it to you.”

Arrogant—pagan!
His power over her infuriated her. Her blood swore she would dominate him before she ever admitted defeat. He had shattered her control and now her only hope was to do the same to him.

She swept her eyes open and gazed at him through the thick, drugging haze of lust. His eyes were closed, his forelock falling over them. He bit his lip as he slowly thrust and withdrew in a deep, lush, slow grind, visibly savoring every nuance of pleasure. She moaned, unable to temper her response. She wrapped herself around him, undulating sinuously beneath him.

“Mmm, yes, baby, just like that.”

“
Uhn,
Darius, I can’t bear it.”

“Don’t fail me, angel. Not yet. Not until I say,” he panted.

He plunged into her again and all thought dissolved.

It was a mighty battle. Time became meaningless. In the middle of the afternoon, Darius did things to her in body and spirit that she had not known were possible, made her feel things she had never felt, a soul-tearing mix of despair and ecstasy, domination and total surrender, a whisper and a groan. They were immortals, tangled together in the golden net, neither able to escape the other, locked in loving combat, torn between mutual need and mutual mistrust, both battling for dominion.

They rolled and tussled across the bed, twisting the covers and dampening the sheets with their sweat and steam. His fingers’ grip bruised her pale flesh. Her nails flayed his bronzed hide. They bit each other, leaving marks. Yielding in order to conquer, she indulged his every whim, every contorting position he demanded, glorying in the feel of his skin everywhere against her, licking its salty velvet, her kiss drinking all the bitterness from his scarred mouth.

“Sweet, so sweet,” he whispered, drowning her with kisses as his hard, trembling body smothered hers, and throbbed, gloved inside hers.

In the end, he was as out of control as she was, drunk on the excess of pleasure. Loving her so wildly had reduced him to barbarity, but she was barely conscious of her triumph, reduced to the mindless abandon of instinct. They were copulating animals, mating fiercely—fighting, tooth and nail, to hold on to each other.

At last, he reared up on his fists over her, taking her with long, vigorous thrusts, his face taut with savage ecstasy. Sunlight gleamed on his slicked skin. Shining beads of sweat jeweled every sculpted muscle of his abdomen and the hard swells of his chest. Shadow and sun contoured his angular face, fierce and taut with passion. She gripped his arms, holding on for dear life as his hips pumped her like a piston. The violent rhythm rocked her body, until at long last she planted her heels on the mattress, arching high as a near-scream of release tore from her lips. Climax slammed through her in intense, rigid shudders, ripping through her. Blinding light blazed along her nerve endings, exalting her to heights of such transcendence that she was sobbing, her hands stroking his velvety skin. She felt like she was dying in a blaze of light, a maiden sacrifice devoured by a god.

Darius followed her over the edge. She felt him come, lost and weak, groaning loudly in surrender, buried to the hilt inside her, his whole golden body rigid. His teeth clamped her shoulder, his hands clutched her hips, holding her hard in position as he shot his seed inside her in straining, magnificent pulses.

He collapsed on her and neither of them moved for she knew not how long, panting, thoroughly spent. They were both left empty, uncertain, and undone.

He is heavy,
she thought after a very long time.
I am not
going to be able to walk tomorrow.

These mindless observations seemed all that remained of her powers of reason. He must have eaten her wits. He started laughing lazily for no apparent reason. Wryly, she looked over at him, the handsomest man in the world.

“Ahh, little Cricket,” he chuckled ruefully, eyes closed as he passed his hand over her bent knee. “I think it’s a draw.”

She gave him a sheepish smile as she rolled onto her side, propping her cheek against her hand. She laid her other hand on his ridged stomach, petting him gently. His eyes were closed when she looked uncertainly at his finely chiseled face.

What do we do now?

His lashes swept open and he gazed at her tenderly, cupping her face. “Still going to leave me?” he murmured.

There was such gentleness and love in his eyes, her throat closed with emotion. She moved toward him and crawled into his arms. He welcomed her. She laid her head on his chest, shuddering with the reprieve. He stroked her hair, holding her in his strong, powerful arms.

Darius laid his cheek against her hair. The sweet intimacy of the moment was bliss. Safe in his arms, lulled by the slow, strong beat of his heart, she could scarcely believe how close they had come to losing each other.

Several moments later, he kissed her hair, took a deep breath, and broke the silence.

“You asked me once how I got this scar.” He gestured toward the crescent-moon line on his lips. “I want to tell you now. I couldn’t then.” He paused.