Mistresses: In His Bed: The Billionaire's Trophy / Strictly Temporary / Whose Bed Is It Anyway?. Robyn Grady
feel him moving inside her again, awakening her to a level of sensation she had never known possible. ‘Yes…’
And Bastian required no further invitation. He lifted her up into his arms and carried her through to the bedroom, sinking down on the mattress with her across his lap as he unzipped her dress. ‘I feel like I’ve waited for ever for you, glyka mou.’
Emmie lifted her fingers to rest them gently against his stubborn, wilful and utterly beautiful mouth, trembling as he parted his lips and sucked on her fingertips. ‘You’re not used to waiting, I’m not used to giving.’
And it was true, for she had too often played safe simply to protect herself from the risk of hurt and rejection, but something about Bastian destroyed her defences, blew her heart wide open, made her want to give instead. She met eyes ablaze with sexual hunger and marvelled that she had the power to make him feel that way. Another kiss and he was stripping off her dress, peeling away her bra to curve gentle caressing fingers to her swollen nipples, his every touch sending fire to her aching core.
Emmie twisted against Bastian, fingers clenching into his luxuriant hair to hold him close while she kissed him with all the passion she had repressed for so long. Quick to get the message that speed could be an advantage, Bastian kissed her fervently back while also hauling off his jacket, ditching his tie and embarking on his shirt buttons. She spread reverent fingers across his hard-muscled bronzed torso, appreciating the lithe strength and raw masculinity of his powerful body. He lifted her off him, disposed of his well-cut pants and stretched out beside her on the bed, but he lay still for barely a second before he sat up again to study her semi-naked length with burnished eyes of appreciation.
‘I want you so much it’s painful to hold back,’ Bastian groaned, a fingertip toying teasingly with the shallow indentation of her belly button, and then straying down over her mound to more responsive territory and skating over the taut, damp triangle of material stretched beneath.
Emmie’s back arched and her hips writhed as he touched her, fierce hunger pounding through her like a pagan drum beat that filled her ears and her thoughts so that she was aware of nothing beyond the wicked skill of his hands on her unbearably tender flesh. He whisked away the last barrier and, parting the delicate pink folds, he thrust a finger into her aching core. She gasped, twisted and turned, wanted him so much it physically pained her to withstand such teasing.
‘I want to watch you come this time,’ Bastian confided thickly, sliding down the bed to caress the engorged buds of her nipples with his mouth and his tongue while at the same time he drove her crazy with every plunge of his fingers.
Emmie couldn’t stay still. She was on fire for him, quivering with excitement and a level of need that came close to torment. ‘Bastian, please,’ she whimpered.
And he lifted her up and sank into her so hard and deep and fast that she cried out with excitement.
Bastian groaned with sensual satisfaction. ‘Hot…wet…tight, khriso mou, my every dream come true.’
Emmie was on a high of rapturous sensation. He rode her with abandon, pleasuring her with hard rapid strokes that stoked her excitement to feverish heights. She was out of control, her heart thundering as she flew high on his erotic rhythm, her body rising to meet his. At the apex of her climax she convulsed around him, shattering in the devouring waves of pleasure that consumed her.
‘On a scale of one to ten that was an eleven, khriso mou,’ Bastian breathed raggedly, releasing her from his weight only to snake an arm round her and hold her captive to his long lean length.
His comment jarred, slicing like a blade through the cosy cocoon of relaxation Emmie’s body was embracing, because she was too well aware that in bed she had nobody she could compare him to. It made her feel cheap to think he might be comparing her to past lovers and she stiffened defensively.
Her movement made Bastian look down at the arms he still had wrapped round her restless body. Faint colour accentuating his high cheekbones because he was uncomfortable with his own unfamiliar behaviour, he freed her abruptly, but not before he had dropped a kiss on her furrowed brow.
‘So where do we go from here?’ Emmie prompted.
Bastian hated questions like that and he thought it was typical that Emmie would put him on the spot and want immediate answers. ‘It’s just sex,’ he parried very drily. ‘Let’s not get too worked up about it.’
Face burning in receipt of that demeaning response, Emmie froze and gritted her teeth together.
Bastian knew he had said the wrong thing but he was too arrogant to take it back. he also didn’t know the answer to her question and was already mentally sidestepping all the many complications he imagined lay ahead of them. She was carrying his kids and that made her much more than a lover. He tensed, not in the mood to think about that reality and suddenly very keen to be distracted from such troublesome and confusing thoughts.
‘Let’s go out to eat,’ he suggested abruptly.
‘I was going to make a meal.’
Bastian didn’t want to share an intimate meal in the apartment because he foresaw more difficult questions hovering like storm clouds on his horizon. ‘I can’t stay long,’ he told her, sliding out of the bed with fluid grace. ‘I’m flying to Australia tomorrow and moving on into Asia to check our operations there. I’ll be away for a while.’
Taken aback by this first reference to his imminent departure, Emmie sat up, feeling ridiculously lonely and lost. It’s just sex. His bronzed profile was hard and taut, his tension palpable to her. He didn’t want her attaching fancy labels to their lovemaking or attaching strings of commitment to him. She might be pregnant with his babies and he might still want to have rampant sex with her, but he was not prepared to offer her a more serious relationship. Had she really expected anything else? All over again she had tumbled into bed with Bastian without thinking about what she was doing, without worrying about how he thought of her or wondering about where it would lead.
Bastian’s silence, his patent eagerness to leave gave her an answer she really didn’t want. A hard lump filled her throat and she couldn’t swallow. She felt hurt, desperately hurt and rejected. Obviously she wanted more from Bastian than she was currently receiving. Equally obviously she had been in proud denial of what he could make her feel. Yet again she had ignored the clear limits of their association, for she dared not call it a relationship.
‘If you don’t feel like going out, I’ll order food in,’ Bastian volunteered, buttoning his shirt, grabbing up his jacket.
In that moment she hated him more than any man alive. ‘I’ve already eaten,’ she lied.
‘You know you need to be eating more when you’re being so sick,’ Bastian reminded her darkly.
Sensing his impatience, Emmie simply nodded agreement. ‘You order,’ she advised, snaking out of bed to snatch up her dressing gown and vanish into the bathroom.
She had never felt less hungry in her life, she acknowledged wretchedly. It’s just sex. Those three words had ripped her apart and forced her to re-examine the consequences of allowing Bastian to pay her bills and maintain a roof over her head. Did he see her as something less now? Had he ever had any respect for her? It’s just sex. Even worse, did he now think of her as his mistress? How did a very rich man regard a woman whom he was already keeping? Certainly not as an equal. Emmie knew she had a big nasty decision to make but she would have to handle that later when Bastian had gone. Right then the bravest thing she had ever done in her life was shelve all her messy emotions, walk back out of the bathroom, throw on the only jeans that still fitted her and join him in the lounge where he was already ensconced watching the business news.
Korean food was delivered. While he watched she nibbled, chased the food round her plate, drank a lot of water. ‘You need to eat more,’ Bastian told her again and he leant out of his chair to close a big hand round her thin forearm. ‘You’re getting ridiculously skinny.’
Hot colour splashed