How must he look mounted over me? Her mouth went completely dry and she closed her eyes as pleasure coursed through her body.
She loved how hard and big he felt as he sank into her, stretching her walls. She was completely at a loss to describe the overwhelming pleasure that took hold of her body.
Grabbing her tightly, he mercilessly forged on, his fingers digging into her hips, breaching her more, and commanded, “Touch yourself. I want to see it.”
She gasped as her own fingers touched her. It was daring and bold and made her feel powerful and free. She knew she wasn’t going to last long.
“That’s it,” he rasped, even more turned on. He pressed down closer to her back after he was fully inside her. He pinned her under his body as he braced himself on the bed. He placed kisses along her bare shoulder.
She moaned louder, urging him on. Her body quivered from the strong, intense pleasure and the last push to climax, when he withdrew almost totally from her and drove back in with one powerful thrust.
“Alistair Connor!” She cried out as excruciating ecstasy tore through her. Her muscles clamped down strongly on his arousal, as her body shuddered in a forceful release.
But Alistair wouldn’t let it finish like that. His fingers dipped again to caress her oversensitive clitoris. The vibration in her ass, his rough thrusts and his fingers brought Sophia once more to the edge.
“Come for me again,” he grunted, his breathing harsh, as he increased the depth of his strokes, building pleasure taking hold of her again.
The need to come grew from a steady ache to a gnawing necessity.
“Alistair,” she pleaded.
His fingers left her for a split second and she moaned loud when the vibrations in her ass throbbed quicker. He moved inside her again, frantically drawing out the climax until she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything but feel. She wondered if it were possible to die from too much pleasure.
“Now, Sophia.” He was too thick, too big, too deep. He plunged, his hips slapping against her buttocks, sending the plug even deeper.
A deep slam of his, in time with a pressured circle of his fingers around her clitoris and the taking out of the plug, was all it took to send Sophia over again, spiraling up in wondrous sensations and then down in powerful release.
Alistair drew torturous breaths as his own climax seemed to never end, Sophia’s body clenching again and again around him, leaving him dry. With a last deep and hard thrust, his world shattered and with a low and husky shout, he fell limply on the bed.
When Sophia opened her eyes again, Alistair was lying down on his side facing her. She smiled and whispered, “Hey.”
“Hey, you.” He scooted to kiss her on the lips and bring her to his chest. Looking down into her eyes, he asked quietly, “Was it good?”
She blushed and his chest trembled with contained mirth.
“I love it when you blush,” he whispered on her lips.
“If things keep going like this, there are two possibilities: I’ll either be blushing permanently or never again. I loved it.” She kissed his chest. “Alistair?”
“Hm?” He lifted her chin so he could see her face better.
“I want to know what your fantasies are.”
“You.” He grinned, his green eyes flashing beautifully.
“I better be.” She scowled and poked his chest with her finger, “But, really.”
“We are already working toward it.” His big hand ran over her back until he grabbed her butt and squeezed it.
“My ass,” she said.
He nodded but, in truth, his most ardent fantasy was to hear her saying the three words he had repeated so often already. I love you.
Ethan Ashford’s Penthouse.
10.35 a.m.
Ethan asked his housekeeper for more coffee and then turned to Scott. “You said you were keen on finding her secrets. So, what do you have to report?”
“Sir, I meant that everyone has things they consider too dark to turn public. She obviously has many. Too many disguises and subterfuges to just be afraid of criminals.”
“Hmm.” Ethan raised an eyebrow. “Maybe. And MacCraig?”
Scott produced an envelope from his leather suitcase. “Several love affairs, if you can call them that. A great many more one night-stands. An unusual marriage.”
“Unusual marriage? In what way?”
“His wife and her sister, - if you get my meaning, sir - were known for their weird predilections.”
“A threesome? That isn’t so unusual,” Ethan said. You’d be shocked if you knew what my parents did.
“Oh, believe me, sir, there’s more.” Scott tapped the envelope with his new Montblanc pen. “This Heather, she didn’t try to hide it, although I didn’t find much about her. Before she died, their marriage was already breaking up and they both had multiple partners.”
“So he was unfaithful.”
“Apparently, sir, it was an accepted situation. An open marriage. I couldn’t find out exactly how it worked, but there are some clues in there. And, sir,” Scott’s voice lowered to a conspiratorial tone, “somehow Ghost managed to hack into his sister-in-law’s computer. She has lots of photos of them during sex. It’s all in there.”
Ethan looked at Scott as if he’d sprouted a second head. Then he chuckled, “That’s good, Scott. Very good. Remind me to deposit a bonus for you on Monday. Have you got everything prepared for today?”
Scott puffed out his chest, a habit Ethan found very amusing. “Of course, sir. Of course.”
“Good, Scott. Very good.” Ethan turned back to his papaya. “Inform Sophia she can have some time off until tomorrow night.”
Scott nodded and left the room thinking that the richer people were, the weirder they behaved.
Craigdale Castle.
11.07 a.m.
Sophia crept silently through the corridors and furtively stepped into the Blue Drawing Room. She went straight to the Steinway grand piano in the corner, the attraction too irresistible for her to deny.
She hadn’t played since Gabriel’s kidnapping, but something stirred inside her when Alistair had played for her the other night.
She closed her mind to the memories of Gabriel and how much he loved her playing. Resolutely, she sat at the stool and opened the fall lock. Her fingers caressed the keys and an uneasiness took hold of her. She forged on and started to play.
The door opened with no sound and Alistair entered the room. Hearing the music, he scanned the room and his brows shot up when he saw her. “You never told me you played, Sophia.”
She jumped away from the piano, almost falling in her haste. She felt as sweat rolled down her back. “Not anymore.”
Huh? “What were you doing just now?” He strode toward her and commanded as he sat on the bench, “Come. I’ll play with you.”
She stared at him almost afraid of saying something.
He smiled reassuringly at her and making room for her on the bench, stretched his hand. “Play with me,” he invited again.
“My nails are too long and I don’t remember any song for four hands.” She stood there, glued to the ground, looking wide-eyed at him.
He played a few notes with his left hand and wriggled his right fingers in her direction. “Play whatever you want, I’ll accompany you. Come, I’m not expecting perfection. It’s just for fun.”
She shook her head, feeling her shirt getting wet under her armpits.
But he wouldn’t accept no for an answer. “Come on, I’m waiting,” he coached gently. Sophia, don’t be shy.
Oh, God. “All right,” she breathed deep, gathering courage, and sat by his side, “modern or classic?”