Italian Mavericks: Carrying The Italian's Heir. Tara Pammi
positively feral, and his whole body pulsed with desire, demanding immediate satisfaction.
Before he could say anything else she pressed her lips against his once more, the kiss demanding and erotic. She gasped into his mouth as his tongue met hers, sending his heart rate soaring. Only once before had he experienced such wild passion, such fierce desire, and that had been with this woman. The one who’d given her virginity to him and now carried his child. She was truly his. No matter what happened that would never change.
He slid his palm down her throat, pausing as her kiss deepened, became more demanding. Then he moved his hand over her breast, her nipple a tight bud beneath the fabric of her dress, and he had an uncontrollable urge to rip the fabric from her, to expose the delicious breasts so he could taste them and nip at them with his teeth until she cried out with pleasure as she had done that last time.
‘Dante...’ She groaned his name softly against his lips and pressed her hips tighter against him.
An explosion of hot need was rushing through him. There wouldn’t be any stopping now. This fiery desire had to meet its conclusion, and fast.
While he kissed her, teasing her tongue with his, he slid his hand down to her waist then on to her hips, grasping the fabric of the dress and rucking it up until he could move his hand inside it and feel the soft, warm skin of her thigh. She stopped kissing him and he looked at her as desire throbbed relentlessly in every part of him, demanding satisfaction.
The look in those green eyes still dared him, still goaded him to take her. Her breath was fast and hard, her lips bruised, but still it wasn’t enough. He began to stroke her gently with his fingers, and watched as she held her breath when he touched her through her panties. She was as hot for him as he was for her.
‘Do you still dare me?’ he said hoarsely as he ceased his exploration, moving instead back to her hips and the thin strip of lace which was all that stopped him from claiming her as his once more.
Anger sparked in her eyes, making fireworks of passion and fury explode in them.
‘Yes,’ she whispered raggedly as her fingers entwined in the hair at the nape of his neck, sending shivers of pleasure he’d never known before down his back. ‘I still dare you.’
He held her gaze as he hitched his fingers around the lace and gently pulled. She continued to glare at him, and that mix of anger and fiery passion was almost his undoing. She raised her brow, its slender arch lifting higher in the most alluring way.
‘Are you sure, cara?’
‘I dare you,’ she whispered fiercely, in a sexy and husky way, doing untold things to him.
In one swift tug he’d pulled her tiny lace panties apart at the seam.
‘Dante!’ She gasped in surprise, but made no move to prevent anything else he might do.
‘And do you still insist there is nothing between us?’
‘Yes.’ Her green eyes widened as he moved his hand, trailing his fingers through the curls which shielded her hot, feminine warmth. ‘Nothing at all.’
‘Yet you want my touch, don’t you, cara?’
She closed her eyes as he slid his fingers between her thighs. Hot need pulsed through him as he felt how much she wanted him, but he had to remain in control. He had to be the one to lead this frenzied and unexpected dance of desire.
‘Dante, we can’t... Please don’t...’ She gasped as his touch teased her, pushing her closer and closer to the brink.
‘We can and we will.’
He continued to touch and explore her, increasing his need to thrust deep into her—but first he wanted to push her to a climax, to prove how much she wanted him. She writhed against him and clung to him as that climax shook over her body. She was so responsive, so hot. He wanted her right there, against the wall. He couldn’t stop now.
* * *
Piper opened her eyes, hardly able to believe what had just happened. She felt weak, but still wanted more, and that heady need drove any last remnants of sense from her mind as her shaking hands moved downward to unfasten his trousers. She had to feel him. She had to touch him in the same mind-blowing way he’d touched her. And more importantly she had to take back the control he’d stolen from her with such alarming ease.
He bowed his head almost to her shoulder as with one hand he intervened and freed the hard length of his erection. She felt its heated hardness as he nipped at her neck, the sensation so wild, so new and exciting, she thought she might lose her mind. A deep growl came from him as she wrapped her fingers around him.
Before she could act on any of the new and strange needs filling her body Dante lifted her up. Instinctively she wrapped her legs around him, using the wall behind her to keep her where she wanted to be—intimately against him.
He looked at her, his eyes so black with desire, so intense, they sent a shower of need all over her. Emboldened by the power she now seemed to possess over him, she moved her hips until she could feel the heat of him touch her.
Something wild and unknown was whipping around them like a storm, and it spiralled ever higher. All she could do was look down into the blackness of his eyes as he held her and then the storm stilled. The air around them was heavy with expectancy. She’d heard of the eye of the storm, but had never expected it be like this—with a man like Dante Mancini.
‘Dante?’ she said expectantly, wanting more and yet suddenly wondering if she’d gone too far.
His answer was a demanding and bruising kiss, and she closed her eyes as his tongue forced itself into her mouth, starting up the wild and erotic dance once more. She moved her hips as he held her against the wall, positioning herself so that she could feel him, tease him, punish him.
A fluid Italian curse left his lips as he broke the kiss to pull back slightly and look at her. Again that expectancy filled the air. His eyes turned sinfully black and he moved with her. In that moment she realised she hadn’t been in control at all—she hadn’t even been the one teasing or punishing him. But she didn’t care about any of that any more. All she wanted was Dante deep inside her. Now.
As if he’d read her thoughts he thrust into her, pushing her hard against the wall as his fingers gripped her naked thighs, keeping her just where he wanted her. Just where she wanted to be. She clung to him as if her life depended on it. Maybe it did.
Passion engulfed her as he pulled back, then thrust into her again. An explosion of pulsing need erupted inside her as each thrust took him deeper into her. She moved with him, as if her body had been born to do this with him. He’d awoken the woman in her that night in London, and now all she wanted was to be totally possessed by him.
As she moved his lips sought hers in a kiss so wild and passionate her head spun with dizziness and she closed her eyes, giving herself up to the sensation of being Dante’s. With each passing second their breaths became harder and faster. Erratically he kissed down her throat as she let her head fall back against the wall, unable to do anything other than follow the moment.
‘Dante!’ she cried out as he pushed her higher and faster towards yet another climax. Each frenzied move he made was taking him deeper inside her, exactly where she wanted him to be.
His reply, savage and foreign, only heightened her need for him and she moved with him in a wild dance where all sense or reason was lost.
‘You are mine, Piper—mine.’
As the world around her exploded his hoarsely whispered words didn’t mean anything and she cried out again, aware of Dante’s harsh cries as he too found his release.
She clung to him as her body began to shake but didn’t dare say anything. Her pulse slowed and she knew she’d played a dangerous game—and lost. The last words he’d said before they’d both exploded with desire had been triumphant, proving that whatever had sparked between them in London was still there and that she wanted him as much as ever.