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Suddenly she couldn’t stand any more. Literally. He caught her as her knees sagged and he lifted her to her hideously narrow bed. She breathed out in relief, her legs parting, holding her arms out to him as he knelt over her.
But he didn’t put his weight on her, didn’t line up his pelvis with hers the way she really wanted. Instead he put his mouth and hands to work in tandem again—repeatedly, rhythmically sweeping over her until she was hot and writhing and so ready. She arched her hips, thrusting them against him again and again.
‘Liam,’ she begged. ‘Please.’
He leaned back on his arms to look into her face. ‘I’ve always wanted you,’ he said, his expression strained. ‘Always wanted this.’
‘Me too,’ she confessed shamelessly. ‘Please, please, please get on with it.’
To her immense relief, he left her, efficiently scooping his trousers from the floor and pulling a new pack of condoms from his pocket. A minute later she heard the snap as he sheathed himself.
She lay back on the bed and spread her legs in welcome. But he wrapped a hand around her ankle and started all over again—kissing from her toes, all the way up the length of her leg. It was torture. But it was bliss.
Why had she thought this wouldn’t be a good idea? This was the best idea she’d ever had. She writhed beneath him, almost in tears, almost laughing, and totally furious that he could still hold back from plunging into her. She rolled, deciding to take matters into her own hands—to mount him and initiate the ride herself.
He let her on top—but he didn’t let her slide onto him. Instead he laughed and caught her hips, using his insane, superior strength to keep her in place just above him. But still he didn’t penetrate.
‘Tease,’ she groaned.
‘Not ’til you come first.’
She closed her eyes. ‘Not without you inside me.’
He laughed. ‘Then we’re at a stalemate.’ He bent his knees and slid down the bed while lifting her so she remained in place—now higher above him.
‘You know how much I like to win,’ he muttered, lifting his hands to palm her breasts again. ‘I’ll do whatever it takes to win.’
He shifted a little more so he could kiss her right where she needed him to. His tongue swept into her.
She cried out, her head falling back at the extreme intimacy. ‘Liam.’
‘Come on me,’ he muttered. He licked again and then fastened his lips around her clitoris and sucked.
Her thighs quivered and she pressed her fists onto her knees. He reached up, filling his hands with her breasts. She breathed hard, knowing there was no way she could beat him at this.
‘If I come…’ she panted.
‘Yes.’ He broke the rhythm of his tongue for only a split second to answer.
‘If…’ She couldn’t get it out. ‘Yes.’ He manipulated her breasts more—perfectly in time to the sweeps of his lips and tongue.
‘I…’
‘Yes.’
‘Oh—yes!’ She shuddered as the orgasm hit. Unstoppable. Delightful. Her prolonged groan escaped through gritted teeth.
A satisfied sound rumbled from his throat as he kept tormenting her, so the waves of pleasure kept rippling through her in intense contractions.
She gasped, panting for breath. ‘Please.’
He released her and she slid, bumping her head on the wall as she tumbled to the side of him.
‘Careful.’ He pulled her into his arms, moving to slide her beneath him, but her stupid bed was too small.
They gave up on it, falling to the floor in a tight embrace. Victoria felt consumed by fire. Hooking her legs around his body. Her hands knotted in his short hair.
He looked down at her. His eyes gleamed. Wide, focused. Desperate.
A sense of power filled Victoria. ‘Now,’ she commanded.
Immediately he bore down on her, driving so deep it almost hurt. And it was so incredibly good she wanted more. She arched, urging. He pulled back and pushed into her again. Again. She grunted as she took the brunt of each powerful thrust.
‘Okay?’ he asked, his face creasing in agony as he paused.
‘Don’t stop,’ she begged, grabbing his butt in her hands and squeezing to push him closer. ‘More…’ She groaned again. ‘All.’
He resumed his punishing, perfect rhythm. She wound her limbs round him and just hung on. She couldn’t stop the feral moans as he ground into her, closer and closer with every pounding motion.
‘Liam!’ She screamed as she was tossed into the intense waves of pleasure. Her nails dug into his shoulders, her heels into his lower back.
He roared. His body stiffened, his hands gripping her hard and painfully tight as he shouted again as the tension mirrored in him was released just as violently.
A long moment later he lifted his head from where he was slumped over her. ‘Don’t go to sleep.’
In answer she tightened her grip on him so he couldn’t lift away from her. She didn’t think she’d ever sleep again. Every cell and nerve in her body was so wired she didn’t think they’d ever calm enough for sleep to claim them. She was so hypersensitive she was afraid she might cry. She really didn’t want to do that.
He lifted his head again and looked at her—nose to nose. ‘I’m starving—you?’
His easy return to reality made her laugh. Relief swept through her as she relaxed. ‘You didn’t eat at the wedding?’
‘Funnily enough I didn’t feel like eating much after I got your message. Too tense. I couldn’t wait to get out of there.’
His honesty kept her smile wide. ‘Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you but there’s nothing in the pantry.’
He rose up from the floor and walked over to the kitchenette area of her studio. He opened the one cupboard and sighed. ‘That’s because you don’t have a pantry, you have a shelf. But—’ he turned and winked at her ‘—you’ll be amazed what I can conjure out of nothing.’
‘Really?’
He nodded. ‘I’ve come up with some desperate options in my time. Bet you’ve never had frozen-pea sandwiches the way I make ’em.’
‘Nice.’ She laughed but her heart tugged at the same time.
But he was laughing easily. ‘Especially with stale bread.’ In the end he found some rice and cooked it up with the few vegetables he found lurking in her fridge. They had some almond biscuits for afters. It was an odd meal for one in the morning. She didn’t want to sleep. Didn’t want to miss a minute.
She watched him as he ate, wondered how many dinners he’d thrown together out of limited supplies in isolation. ‘You don’t get lonely when you’re alone at sea for so long?’
‘No. I’ve always been alone. That’s the way it is.’
‘But you wanted to join in that family Christmas.’ She’d felt that longing in him. She’d recognised it because, if she was honest, it was echoed within herself.
‘I was trying to be a good guest. Helpful.’ He winked. ‘And I wanted to be near you.’
It wasn’t just her.
Liam picked up the belt from her robe and wound it round his hands, then unwound it. Now he’d refuelled, he was ready to have every inch of Victoria all over again. He’d glanced at the clock on the computer and felt a surge of panic. One night didn’t seem so long at all this side of midnight.
‘What are you planning to do with that?’
He smiled as he heard excitement tinge her not-quite-innocent question. ‘Play with you.’
‘Only if I get to do the same to you.’
‘Sure. After me.’ He turned to look at her.
Gold leaf still glittered on her body, but it was nothing on the glitter in her eyes.
She’d switched her lamp on to partially light the room. The beam from the bulb highlighted a patch on her thigh. He reckoned he’d start there.
‘Why do you want to tie me up?’ she asked as she offered her wrists for him to bind to the headboard of her bed. That she trusted him so implicitly gave him an immense kick of satisfaction. That she was so willing to be so physically intimate with him. Finally.
‘I want to explore you without distraction,’ he answered honestly. He wanted to caress every curve, every inch of her skin. ‘It’s hard to keep control when you have your hands on me.’
He wanted to give her pleasure again and again. To discover her body, her secrets. To understand what it was she liked. Never had he wanted to please a lover more. And that competitive part of him wanted to ensure he was the best she’d ever had.
She shifted—experimentally moving her legs. But she was smiling as he bent over her. ‘So I nearly won, then?’
If he was honest, she’d won everything.
‘You okay?’ He checked again long minutes later as he finally did as she was begging and worked his fingers into her, his thumb circling over her most sensitive spot until she came wet, hot, screaming.
‘I’m so doing this to you,’ she panted.
‘Soon.’ He was pushing her over the edge again first.
It was over an hour later when he let her tether his wrists. She smiled at him with such wicked intent he was hard again in a second.
She swept her hands over him, looking at him as if he were something she’d wanted to toy with—and devour— since for ever. She bent over his body—kissing, caressing every bit of him with her hands, her lips, her hair. When she licked her lips and her gaze zeroed in on his erection he knew he was in trouble.
‘Victoria.’ Part of him wanted her to do it so much, but he also wanted to come inside her again.
But in the end he had no choice. She sucked him so hard, her hands working in tandem, there was no way he could hold back. No way he could resist diving head-first into the generous, seductive attention she was gifting him.
She didn’t untie him after—even though he was as limp as a dishrag. Dazed, he lifted his head with a huge effort as she slipped away from the bed.
‘Victoria?’
A couple of minutes later she came back to him. She had a fountain pen in her hand.
‘What are you doing?’ he asked lazily.
‘You’re missing something all sailors have.’ She carefully touched the nib of the pen to his chest.
‘What’s that?’ He twitched at the tickling sensation.
‘A tattoo.’ She chuckled. ‘A heart with ‘mother’ or something across it.’
He flinched.
‘Perhaps not ‘mother’,’ she said quietly and lifted the pen from him.
‘It’d be okay,’ he said, feigning ease. ‘She died when I was very small.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘It was a long time ago.’ The pen tickled him some more.
‘Did your father find anyone else?’
‘No. He was a rough man. A stevedore who loaded and offloaded ships. He worked hard, drank hard. Frankly he stank. He didn’t have a lot about him to attract another woman.’ Except for the ones he paid for.
‘So what did you do?’
‘Found boats and sailed on them. As often as I could.’
He’d skipped school to sail. Until he’d become so good the schools had come to him wanting him to sail. Scholarships. Performance.
She ran a line down the side of his stomach. He flinched again because it tickled so much. She laughed softly as she dipped the pen in the well again and turned back to him. ‘Your abs are amazing.’
He grimaced. ‘I’m glad you appreciate them. They don’t come easy.’
‘Oh, I appreciate them.’ She blew, drying the ink.
‘Don’t put that any lower,’ he warned.
She laughed again. ‘You don’t want me to ink—’
‘No, I do not.’ He wondered what she’d written. But he wanted to feel her some more first. She clearly ached for more too, as suddenly she tossed the pen and straddled him.
‘Release me.’ He needed to hold her now—was desperate not just to cup her breasts and stroke her to ecstasy, but to embrace her. He wanted to hold her close. She still had gold leaf in spots over her skin and in her hair. His gilded, branded lover.
She slid off him and reached forward to untie the knots. On her way back down, she writhed her hips, teasing, freely expressing her enjoyment of him—of his touch, of his body. He shifted again—so his aching need was hard against her lush, wet heat. He arched up into her again and watched the burst of rapture on her face. He inhaled deeply, holding back the urge to dive into the mindless, exquisite release. Not yet.
She pushed on him, levering so she could ride him tighter. He rested his hands on her thighs, letting her. Until he felt her tiring—yet desperate.
‘Liam.’ Her call came, broken, needy.
He slid his hands higher, cupping her butt and supporting her as he thrust upwards, maintaining her tempo, then pushing it further, faster.
