The Society Bride. Fiona Hood-Stewart
and was sticking around out of courtesy.
But Nena was different. He sensed it deep down in a part of himself he hadn’t known existed, some deep, primeval instinct that he’d tapped into on his wedding day and wouldn’t leave him be; the same instinct that was leaving him ever more antsy as he passed her closed door each night on his way to bed.
Patience, he repeated to himself once again. She’s young. Give her time. But it was becoming increasingly difficult.
That night Nena was unable to sleep. She had slipped on one of the beautiful, flimsy, spaghetti-strapped lawn nightdresses that were part of her hastily put together trousseau, chosen by her personal shopper. She looked down at it and sighed. She’d taken no interest in her trousseau, had merely agreed with anything Maureen had shown her. Now, half-afraid, she looked at herself in the mirror. She could see the shadow of her body peeping through the thin fabric and closed her eyes. How hard it was to admit to herself that despite her wish to alienate him, she was constantly thinking of her husband, that when he came close to her every nerve vibrated, that a new, torrid heat she’d never known charged through her being with an alien vibrance that left her damp in places she was embarrassed to think of. Desperately she searched for answers, unable to pinpoint this new, unquenchable thirst that had invaded her being and couldn’t be satiated.
Angry with herself, and desperate to be in the open, she moved out onto the vast balcony that contoured the upper story of the villa. Leaning her hands on the balustrade, her long hair flowing about her shoulders, Nena gazed out over the Aegean at the starlit night and listened to the sea softly lapping the shore. This was her honeymoon, and should have been the most wonderful moment of her life, yet here she was, miserable in more ways than one. She let out a long sigh.
‘Aren’t you sleepy?’ The deep husky voice just behind her made her spin round and gasp, another thrust of emotion rushing through her.
Ramon stood before her, more handsome than ever in silk pyjama pants, the top open revealing an expanse of bronzed chest. In the pool of lantern light she could see a gleam flashing in his golden-flecked chestnut eyes as they flicked over her, taking in each detail of her body in a cool, possessive manner, as an owner might look over a thoroughbred. The thin nightdress, she knew, left little to the imagination.
Ashamed, Nena moved her hands behind her against the balustrade, unaware that by doing so her small, delicious breasts were thrust towards him invitingly as her hair fell back from her shoulders and her perfect throat glistened in the moonlight.
God, she was lovely, Ramon acknowledged, a shaft of untamed desire taking hold once more as he moved towards her, unable to resist. And she was his wife. He had every right to possess her.
‘Nena,’ he whispered, his voice low and sultry, ‘let me love you. Let me be your husband.’
‘I—I can’t—’ she responded hoarsely, only too conscious of his scent, of the maleness of him, of everything about him that drew her even while she tried desperately to remind herself of all the reasons why she couldn’t let it happen.
‘I promise not to hurt you,’ he said reasonably, leaning his hands on each side of the balustrade, his tanned face and sensual lips only inches from hers.
It was then Nena realised, with a tingling shudder that left her weak, that he was about to kiss her.
And she could do nothing to stop him. Knew that however much she tried to justify it to herself she wouldn’t stop him. She must resist, must not show him that she cared, that in spite of the fact that she despised him she also longed for his touch, to discover in his arms what it would be like to become a woman.
Then, before she could think further, his lips came down on hers, and Nena gave way to her first real kiss. She felt his lips prying hers open. For a moment she tried to draw back and protest, but the firm yet gentle insistence of his tongue working its way cunningly into her mouth, left her clutching his hard shoulders instead, trying to hold on to something as the earth swayed beneath her feet.
Ramon drew her into his arms, and, pressing his hand into the small of her back, felt the delicious curve of her bottom, her small taut breasts pressed against his chest. What would she do when she felt his hardness against her? he wondered. He was careful not to rush her as his tongue probed further, thrusting carefully, leading her gently to a response, containing his rampant desire to possess her until she was ready for more, aware that this was her first everything.
So he took it slowly, sensing her waning resistance, the fight between her brain and her body, her instinct and her soul. Then, just as smoothly and firmly, he drew her closer—until she could feel the length of him, until her tongue began tentatively seeking his, guiding her all the way, hands caressing her back, the soft curve of her perfect thighs.
Then all at once he felt her arms tighten about him, heard her tiny gasp as he left her mouth and began kissing her throat, and knew he was well on his way.
Nena threw her head back and moaned, giving herself up to his caresses. She let out another tiny gasp of delight and surprise when his lips reached her breast, encircling her taut nipple, taunting it through the soft texture of her nightdress, making her want to scream with joy and pain, to reach for more, to feel free of the fabric that stood between them. But still Ramon lingered.
Slipping a hand from behind her, he gently fondled her other breast until Nena thought she couldn’t bear the searing rush of heat that stabbed her somewhere down in a place she’d never been entirely conscious of until this moment, but that now begged for some new kind of fulfilment and release.
Then a primal, tight, knotted spiral that she’d never before experienced rose within her, mounting until she thought she’d scream. And just as she could bear it no longer, as her fingers raked his thick black hair and she wanted to beg for mercy, for him to stop, a miracle happened and the hot, intense, coiled buildup crashed, simply let loose, wafted into an ecstatic joyride that lingered on and on for several seconds, leaving her limp and weak, her knees giving way beneath her as Ramon held her up and she fell extenuated against him.
‘Mi linda,’ he whispered, lifting her in his arms then carrying her through the French windows into his bedroom with the male satisfaction and pride of knowing he’d just introduced her to her first sexual experience.
‘What happened?’ she whispered as he laid her down in the middle of the huge bamboo four-poster bed, with its voile curtains and soft, cool linen sheets.
‘You just experienced your first orgasm,’ he said, slipping next to her onto the bed, his smile as arrogant as it was possessive.
‘Oh.’ Slowly Nena recouped her breath. Then suddenly she became aware that Ramon was about to remove his pyjama pants. Exercising every ounce of will-power, she sat up and brushed her hair aside, little aware of how tantalising she looked in the glow of the soft bedside lamps.
‘Ramon, what are you doing?’
‘Nena, you may be young and a virgin,’ he said with a touch of humour in his flashing brown eyes, ‘but I think you know very well what I’m doing. It’s time I made you truly my wife.’
‘No. I don’t want to.’ She moved back against the pillows and drew her legs up under her nightdress.
‘Nena, after what just happened out there that is a ridiculous statement,’ he said with a low, husky laugh that left her once again prey to the rush of heat that had assailed her previously. ‘You want me just as much as I want you,’ he said softly, trailing his long dark fingers from her throat to her breast, where he stopped just above her nipple and looked deep into her eyes. ‘Tell me you don’t want me to start all over again,’ he said with quiet, yet arrogant assurance, ‘and I’ll leave you alone.’
Nena tried to think straight, to resist the tantalising caress that was fuzzing her brain. ‘I don’t—I can’t—’
‘Yes, you can, mi linda, of course you can. Remember, I’m your husband. You can do anything with me, Nena, anything at all. I’ll show you, take you places you’ve never dreamed of.’
Her