The plane hit a pocket of turbulence and the bed stuttered under us, reminding me this was insane. I pushed elbows against mattress to lever Nikos off. It was like levering against a wall.
“Stop squirming,” he growled.
“Yeah? Or else what?” I should have remembered what happened to Xerxes.
Note to self: never challenge a Spartan.
Nikos reared to his knees over me. Damn, he was huge, the rising power of his abdominals flaring into mountains of chest. He was bowed over slightly so his head didn’t hit the ceiling of the cabin.
Breathless, I started to scrabble off the mattress. He contained me simply by squeezing me gently between his muscled thighs.
Then he seized the neckline of my v-neck sweater, one side in each hand, and ripped it in two. I’ve heard there’s a trick to tearing a phonebook in half but believe me when I say he used all muscle, no finesse in shredding the garment. I saw every jerk and bounce of his huge pecs, the sudden powerful bulge and flare of his lats, the sliding mountains of biceps as he tore the sweater open.
My breasts, encased in a lace demi-bra, were revealed.
His purr resonated through the cabin. He reached forward, cupped a breast in each big hand. He tested their weight, began to fondle them.
“Hey, Mr. Macho.” I grabbed his wrist. “What happened to admiring the strong, independent woman?”
“Woman,” he repeated with satisfaction. “All woman.” He grabbed one breast and held me firmly as he lowered his head. His breath heated the sensitive skin a moment before his mouth latched onto my nipple and suckled. I gasped.
He played the other nipple with his fingers as he suckled. “Strong, yet exquisitely sensitive. Responsive. You’re competence wrapped in seduction. I love your breasts.”
“So I see. And feel.” I shuddered as he nipped lightly, the sharp edge of teeth scoring the stiff bud. His thumb and fingers worked the other nipple, rubbing and plucking it in tandem with his nibbling. All the while his thighs cradled my body, and his erection pulsed long and hard on my belly.
Natural machismo, yes. I’d wanted to break that before it crushed me to dust. But now…thousands of years had honed his masculinity, which included boldness and dominance-but also protectiveness and honor. It made him who he was, the Nikos I loved…damn. I loved him.
This take-charge lovemaking was part of him. Part of what made Nikos the sexy Spartan he was. So why fight it?
Yeah, why fight insanity? ’Cause I must have been nuts to even think of giving in.
And yet…if insanity in small doses was simply genius…I lay back and put my arms above my head. “Love me, Nikos. Take me here, now.”
His purr thundered in the close space. He seized my wrists and pinned them to the bed, holding me captive.
And then he stared deep into my eyes. Soul-searching deep. As if reading my truest intentions, my most basic needs. As if, despite all his ego-crushing dominance, he was only interested in what was best for me.
Whatever he saw made him slowly smile, and disappear in a puff of mist.
Seconds later he reappeared in the doorway, filling it, his erection jutting. Two ties dangled from his hand.
Okay, I invited it. But was I ready for this? Was I ready to make love with a vampire, join the mile high club, and have my first experience with being dominated all at once?
Nikos sprang onto the bed like a leopard bringing down its prey. He caught my wrists and wrapped a tie around them, looped it between, twisted and knotted it with quick, sure moves to form shackles.
Well. Ready or not, I was getting it.
He tore off my jeans and bound my ankles while I was still getting used to having my hands fettered. Then he leaped to hands and knees over me, leering down at my bound form. “Now. What will I do to you?” He smiled, slowly, his lids lowering suggestively. “Ah, yes. Anything I want.”
What would Nikos’s eyes look like, heavy-lidded with desire? Now I knew. They looked hotter than a furnace. Blazed brighter than the heart of the sun. Slowly I tilted my head back, offering him the soft skin of my throat.
He made a deep, possessive sound and dropped his mouth to my neck. Kissed along the ridge of tendon, nipped the line of my jaw. Sucked little love-nips along the side, licked the small hairs. I shivered.
His sucking got more raw. Harder. My blood leaped to meet his mouth, my pulse starting to throb. His tongue rasped the flesh, stoking my need. I arched my neck to offer everything he wanted, anything he wanted, forgetting he could take all that and more.
Nikos hadn’t. He licked my throat until I was in a frenzy, scored sharp need with his fangs. But he didn’t bite, despite my silent urgings. “Not yet, love. We have two hours. I’m going to use all of it.”
The plane swooped, my belly with it. Two hours of foreplay? Butter me and throw away the twist-tie, ’cause I was toast.
But what could I do? My hands and legs were bound and my body was penned in by several hundred pounds of male muscle. When Nikos seized my breasts in both hands and suckled me through lace until I was sore and moaning, I was helpless to stop him.
“I could thrust down your throat,” he purred. “I could push my cock into your hot mouth, stroke deep enough to touch your tonsils and you’d have to take it.”
“I could scream. I could bite. I’m not completely defenseless.”
“Mmm. Your white sharp teeth on my shaft. Your screams of pleasure in my ears.” His cock expanded. “You’re never defenseless, my strong, capable love.” He grabbed my bra with clawed fingers and shredded it.
“You owe me a thirty-dollar bra, Spartan.” My voice was breathless. “And a fifty-dollar sweater.”
“And how much for the panties?”
“Wha-?”
Too late. He’d slashed my string bikini panties in three places. They were nice panties, too, with a little heart charm dangling on one side, now lost in the bedclothes.
“Hey…what am I supposed to wear when we land?”
“Me.” Nikos’s purr was so loud it was almost deafening. He turned me on my side and plastered himself to my rear, legs supporting mine, erection nestled against my buttocks, ripply abs lining my spine. Nibbling on my earlobe he added, “Inside and out.”
“What if I don’t want to?”
His arm banded my hips, his fingers seeking my vulva. “You don’t have a choice.”
I tucked my pussy out of reach. “I always have a choice.”
He thrust his hand between my tightly-closed thighs. I expected him to complete his conquest by driving his hard fingers into me, but he only massaged the tender flesh of my inner thigh.
“You have a choice,” he agreed. “But I can help you decide.”
His hand was so warm, so exciting. He rubbed his hips against my behind, his cock stuttering against me, arousing me more. His mouth plundered my ear, breath hot.
“What happened to my conquering Greek?” I was panting.
“Ancient Greeks also employed guile,” he murmured in my ear. “Trojan horse?”
“Inside of which were conquering Greeks.”
“You’ll have to open the gates to my enticements first.”
“You’ll have to entice harder.” But I arched into his questing hand. His palm slid up my thigh in response, fingers circling nearer my sensitive labia. When they brushed the ends of my public hair I strained against him.
“Is this hard enough?” He tickled my pussy with the tips of his claws.
“Not nearly.” My hips rocked of their own accord, seeking his caresses in front, his hard ridge of hot flesh in back. His cock flexed against me in return, a drop of fluid teasing the downy hair on my coccyx. I released a sigh of pleasure.