Immortal Billionaire, page 12
“No.” That single monosyllable was all she could summon as she tried to fight down the fluttering, melting sensation turning her limbs to liquid.
“Nor am I. Not anymore.” He moved his hips forward so Connie couldn’t possibly mistake the iron harness of his erection. Unable to help herself, she arched her back a little, pressing her buttocks more firmly against that delicious length. Sylvester’s next words came out on a slight groan. “Shall I tell you why?”
Connie managed to stammer out two words this time. “Y-yes, please.” She felt extraordinarily proud of her achievement in speaking at all, since it was hard to concentrate on anything other than Sylvester’s nearness and the exhilarating heat between her legs.
“I’m not scared because I’m with you, Connie.” His charming baritone voice had become gruff with emotion. As he spoke, he removed his hands from the balcony rail and slid them up from her waist, cupping her breasts over the thin material of her dress. Connie gasped as his fingers found and teased her already pebbled nipples. “And because, ever since I met you, I’ve been thinking about doing this.”
She leaned her head back against his chest, cupping her hands over his in encouragement. “I’ve been thinking the same thing.”
Sylvester hissed through clenched teeth, pulling away for a second and then pressing forward with a groan, pinning her hard to the balustrade with his body. He ground his hips into her and she shivered violently, unable to focus beyond the wetness between her legs, the wobble in her knees and the mad thrill in her stomach. His lips brushed the ridge of her ear. “And right now, I can’t think of anything except how much I need to be inside you.”
His fingers left her breasts, but only to move lower so he could lift the hem of her dress. Hooking his thumbs into the waistband of her underwear, he pulled them down over her thighs and calves until she could step out of them. Nudging her legs apart with his knees, he moved closer, kissing the back of her neck. Connie was aware of him fumbling with his clothing and, with relief, she heard him tear open a condom wrapper. Thank goodness one of them was thinking straight. Then his muscled thighs were between her legs, spreading her wider.
She could feel his sheathed erection pressing hard against her. Standing behind her, supporting her against the balustrade, he positioned himself at her entrance and pushed all the way inside in one thick, hot rush. Rougher, faster and more completely perfect than anything she’d imagined. Connie wasn’t sure she could bear it. The sweet heaven of him inside her, his hands firm on her hips, holding her steady while she grew accustomed to his girth. Then he started to drive in and out, and her whole body convulsed with pleasure at the rhythmic pounding that sent her thoughts scattering into a thousand tiny pieces. Pleasure built outward from her nerve endings, traveling through her bloodstream to the point where her body met Sylvester’s.
Reaching a hand between them, he stroked her clitoris in time with his thrusts and Connie’s internal muscles clenched tightly around him.
Sylvester groaned appreciatively, leaning closer so he could kiss the shell of her ear. “Feels so good when you squeeze me like that. Always has.”
The words were too much for Connie. Obedient to the thrumming demands of the man inside her and his skillful, relentless fingers, she gave herself up to orgasm. Rapture crested, sucking her under so she was drowning in wave upon wave of delight. As if he had been holding back, waiting for her, Sylvester’s thrusts accelerated. He gave an inarticulate cry before his body jerked out its release deep inside her.
Connie’s body was still humming with pleasure as Sylvester withdrew and turned her to face him. Brushing the hair back from her face, he smoothed it gently behind her ear. Softly, his tongue traced the outline of her lips and she relaxed into his kiss, opening her mouth to allow his tongue to slip inside. They kissed hungrily, breathlessly, their tongues dancing together, his fingers tangling in her already tousled hair.
“I knew this time would be raw and out of control,” he said when they finally broke apart.
She shook her head, trying to get to grips with what he was saying. “When were you planning on letting me into that little secret?”
“Around the same time you decided to let me into your body.”
The eroticism of the words sent a renewed blaze of passion storming through her. She gazed up at him. “What will the next time be like?”
“Let me show you.” He swung her up into his arms and carried her through the open glass doors and into his bedroom.
Chapter 10
Cariña sits on a rock and watches him as he works. The muscles in his back and shoulders bulge and relax as he hammers the wood in place, and her throat tightens painfully. Whenever she is close to Máximo, her body is gripped by a series of powerful emotions.
Sota has warned her to stay away from him, told her she was playing with fire. But what does her grandmother know? What harm can there be in coming to watch him build this funny little house in the pinewoods? In listening to his deep, melodic voice talking in that strange language from far across the seas? In gazing into those endless blue eyes? In imagining those big, powerful hands caressing her body...
Máximo is talking to her, trying out a few words of her language, and Cariña rouses herself from her daydream. She has placed a pink-and-white butterfly orchid behind her ear and he smiles, indicating the bloom.
“Pretty.”
She blushes, unsure if the word is meant for her or the flower.
Máximo holds the door of the cottage open and, with a flourishing bow, invites her inside. As soon as Cariña steps over the threshold, she knows what will happen. Sota was right to warn her. There is danger here, but it doesn’t come from him. It comes from within herself.
Máximo has made himself a wooden bed and covered it with leaves and mosses. Filling most of the space in the cottage, it is a silent invitation. The very air between them thrums with the passion they have felt since the first day he arrived on Corazón. How can they possibly resist this?
He remains still. She knows he is waiting for her to move first. If she doesn’t, he will keep his distance. With a sound midway between a laugh and a sob, she sways toward him and he catches hold of her waist in those strong hands. Rising on the tips of her toes, Cariña fits her body to his.
With a groan of surrender, Máximo slides an arm around her, moving his lips down her neck to the hollow of her throat. With one fingertip, he traces her lips, then her neck, pausing to follow the line of her dress where the deerskin covers the swell of her breasts. His lips find the sweet spot where her neck and shoulder meet and his fingers busy themselves undoing the ties of her garment. Spreading the deerskin apart, he slides it down over one shoulder, caressing her exposed flesh with his lips and tongue.
Máximo shivers at the sensation of his erection pressing into her stomach. She knows exactly what this evidence of his desire for her means and she wants more from him. Demands it. Together they push her dress down over her breasts, past her waist and stomach, until she is able to step out of it and kick it aside. She is naked except for the butterfly orchid in her hair.
Máximo’s indrawn breath at the sight of her nakedness sends a shudder of renewed desire surging through her. He reaches out a hand and cups her breast while rubbing her nipple gently with the pad of his thumb.
Cariña tumbles headlong into a spiral of pleasure as his touch sends a shiver of delight shooting from her breast directly to that secret place between her legs. The place she has been achingly aware of ever since she set eyes on him.
She gasps as his hand moves lower, smoothing along her hip and across her stomach. She bites her lip as it dips between her thighs. How can he know exactly where she needs to feel his touch? Lightly, he skims the soft cluster of curls between her legs.
Pressing his knee between hers, he widens her stance. Using the tips of his fingers, he strokes the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. Moving his hand higher, his fingers part the soft curls and slide between her swollen folds. Her entire frame jerks wildly in response.
Máximo slowly draws his middle finger along her moist cleft, up and back down, probing her wetness. He finds and rubs the tiny bundle of thrumming nerves. When his movements quicken, Cariña whimpers. Her body, pulled taut and aching for release, gives way to an unexpected wave that crashes through her entire being. It is like nothing she has ever experienced. She tries to call out his name but no sound leaves her lips. The wave pounds through her again and again, and all she can do is cling to his shoulders with both hands, digging her nails into his flesh, until the tremors that shake her cease.
Máximo slides a hand down her back, over the curve of her buttocks and up her spine, calming her.
Cariña raises her eyes to his. What has just happened only makes her want him more. She takes his hand and leads him to the bed. When she sits on the edge, her eyes are level with his groin. He wears the traditional breechcloth of the Calusa brave and his bulging erection is evident beneath the brief garment.
She reaches out a hand and, sliding it beneath the deerskin, strokes his heated flesh. His whole body jerks in response.
Touching is not enough; she needs to look at him. Raising her eyes to his face, Cariña undoes the ties at his hips. His eyes gleam bluer than ever in the gloom.
The sight of him takes her breath away. So powerful and potent. So proudly masculine. She reaches out and grasps him, sliding her hand down his length. His groan and the way he grows even harder beneath her touch tells her the action is enjoyable, so she repeats it.
He closes his hand over hers, showing her exactly what to do, and together they stroke his shaft. Cariña keeps her eyes on his face, loving the faraway, dreamy look in his eyes. She wants more than this. She wants all of him. Releasing him, she lies back on the bed, parting her legs, offering herself to him. His eyes are hungry as he stares at her. She loves the sensation of him gazing at the intimate parts of her body.
“We can’t.” He says the words in her language, miming there may be a child if they make love.
Heat suffuses her face. She remembers what she has heard, the stories the women tell. There are ways to avoid it. She performs her own mime, blushing more at the smile in his eyes.
With a groan, he comes to lie next to her, drawing her close, kissing her, pressing his lips to the base of her neck and sighing unknown words of love against her skin. Lowering his lips, he trails a line of fluttering kisses down her body, lingering on a breast, on the tip of a nipple, along her collarbone. If there was only ever this one time, it would be enough magic for a hundred lifetimes.
He slides his middle finger into the wetness between her warm folds. Stroking her still-sensitized nub, he circles it with his thumb and flicks over it before sliding the same finger inside her. Seeking the sensitive flesh inside, he watches her face as she quivers at his touch. Slowly, he removes his finger and positions himself between her legs.
She murmurs his name and, needing no further encouragement, he enters her in one swift motion, stopping when he feels a barrier. Pausing, he pulls out of her slightly, watching her face intently.
Cariña lifts her hips, showing him she wants him to continue, to complete their love.
Biting his lip, he plunges into her as far as he can, halting again when he hears her sudden gasp.
Cariña squeezes her eyes shut as he penetrates her completely. The sense of him filling her is overpowering. The brief moment of pain is gone now, and Máximo begins to move. She surges up to meet him, wrapping her legs around his waist so he is buried even deeper in her. She needs him in as far as he can go.
Then he is pulling out and thrusting into her, over and over in a rhythm she matches with her pelvis pounding against his. There is a pulse beating deep inside her, the same sensations as before are building again. This time they are intensified by Máximo’s hardness stretching and filling her. It is so perfect Cariña feels as if her heart might burst at the same time her body convulses with pleasure. She wants to keep his fullness deep inside her, igniting every nerve ending. At the same time, every grinding, undulating movement is driving them toward the soul-shattering climax they seek.
When Cariña’s release rushes through her, it is a tidal wave of enormous pleasure that leaves her trembling on the brink of infinity. She cries out in unabashed abandon, the words unclear but the message unmistakable—she belongs to him, in that moment and forever.
She feels Máximo tense, and he withdraws from her as his orgasm rips through him. He grips his shaft, pumping it twice as it spasms. His body jerks and she feels his warm, wet release on her thighs. He buries his face in her hair; the Spanish words he utters are a muffled groan.
* * *
When Connie woke the next morning she was alone in Sylvester’s huge bed. She glanced at the clock on the bedside table and did a double take. How did that happen? She had never slept so late in her life.
With complete wakefulness came the images of the previous night and she lay back, reveling in the warmth of her memories. Five hundred years ago Máximo and Cariña had been violently, passionately, in love. Theirs had been an intensely physical relationship. Her dream just now about the first time they had made love had been scorching. If it even approached the reality, then it was no wonder she had been wandering around this island in an erotic haze ever since she’d first seen Sylvester.
Face it, they couldn’t keep their hands off each other. She set the dream aside—how did she know that for sure? A secret smile touched Connie’s lips. Because Sylvester and I recreated it last night. We had a lot of catching up to do on their behalf.
Although there was still some residual shock there when she thought of herself as Cariña and Sylvester as Máximo, the violence of her initial emotions was fading. Drama had given way to acceptance. Perhaps it was the strength of her connection to Sylvester that allowed her to acknowledge their past lives with so little hesitation. In spite of everything, this new knowledge brought with it a strange contentment.
Sighing, she slid from the bed and set about discovering the whereabouts of her clothing. Blushing, she retrieved her underwear from the balcony. When she was dressed, she made her way back to her own room, pleased not to encounter anyone as she left Sylvester’s suite. It wasn’t anyone else’s business where she spent the night, she told herself firmly, but she didn’t want to deal with explanations. Having showered and changed into shorts and a tank top in her own room, she made her way downstairs and onto the patio. The house seemed unnaturally quiet.
“Where is everyone?” she asked Vega.
“There’s a problem with the mobile phone signal.” Vega pulled a face as she poured coffee. “You know what men are like about these things. Suddenly they have all become technological experts.”
“And Lucinda?” Somehow, Connie couldn’t picture her getting involved with the intricacies of any technology problems.
“I haven’t seen her this morning.” Vega’s tone, together with her brief shrug, told Connie everything she needed to know. The little housekeeper clearly did not approve of Lucinda.
Vega left her alone to eat her breakfast. Connie viewed the house differently now. I was here when it was built. This house was not the original, but some features remained. Those fountains in the gardens she loved so much were one example. I built them. They had been Cariña’s tribute to the old house in the square at Valladolid.
“What are you smiling about?” Matt’s voice penetrated her thoughts. Was it her imagination or was there an edge to his tone? A sharp note she hadn’t heard before? Was it possible he had picked up on her newfound happiness and sensed something had happened between her and Sylvester? Connie wasn’t sure how to react to Matt’s feelings for her. They couldn’t be very deep, surely? She’d known him such a short time and she had never given him any encouragement. If she acknowledged she knew how he felt, would he be angry? Hurt? She decided it was best to continue with her ongoing response and pretend she didn’t know.
“Just enjoying the day,” she said, as he took the seat next to her. “Aren’t you tempted to get involved in the phone signal problem?”
He stretched his long legs in front of him. “God, no. There are enough conflicting voices offering advice on that issue already. I left them to it. Sylvester’s expression was getting increasingly thunderous.” He cast a sidelong glance at Connie. “Where did you get to yesterday?”
“Sylvester took me to Mound Key to see the ancient Calusa site. What about you?”
“I joined Guthrie, Lucinda and Jonathan in the launch. We went to Charlotte Harbor.” He grimaced. “On balance, I think I’d rather have joined you and looked at an island made out of shells. I managed to escape for an hour and wander around on my own. Did you discover anything riveting at Mound Key?”
Deciding she could hardly answer that question truthfully, Connie opted for a noncommittal approach. “It was very informative.”
Matt faked a yawn. “Sounds like a school outing. I told you Sylvester got boring about the whole Calusa thing. The only time I went to Mound Key, I couldn’t get away fast enough.”
Connie shifted position so she was facing him. “Why?”
It hadn’t occurred to her until now, but Matt’s whole personality changed whenever the Calusa were mentioned. He was instantly transformed from a charming companion to a sulky schoolboy. He became petulant and dismissive, doing everything he could to change the subject. It seemed a strange reaction to a very specific topic.
He lifted one shoulder in a sullen gesture. “I thought it was an eerie place. Gave me the creeps.” He laughed self-consciously, becoming embarrassed. “History isn’t for everyone. I’ll leave that to you and Sylvester. I’m off for a swim. Coming?”
