Postcards From…Verses Brides Babies And Billionaires. Rebecca Winters

swallowed. ‘And that makes your conceit acceptable, does it?’

      ‘Acceptable, inevitable, call it whatever you like.’ His hand strayed to her neck, pushing aside the curtain of hair. ‘And as for having no say in the matter…’ Now his mouth was on her skin, the drag of his lips following the graceful sweep of her neck down to the hollow between her collarbone, muffling his words. ‘You and I both know that you’re desperate for me to make love to you.’

      ‘That is very…’ With her head thrown back to allow him more access to her throat, to make sure he had no excuse to stop lavishing this glorious attention on her neck, words were surprisingly hard to formulate. ‘Ungallant.’

      This produced a harsh laugh. ‘I have never claimed to be gallant. Nor would you expect me to be. And, right now, I suspect gallantry is the last thing on your mind.’ He raised his head his eyes drilling into her soul. ‘Tell me, Annalina, which would you rather—a polite request to allow me access to your breasts, or an order that you remove your jumper?’

      Anna gasped, the thrill of his audacious demand immediately shrivelling her nipples, producing a heavy ache in her breasts that rapidly spread throughout her body. It was outrageous, preposterous, that he should order her to strip.

      ‘I thought as much.’ Her second of silence was met with a growl of approval. ‘Do it now, Annalina. Take off your jumper.’

      She stared back at him, dumbfounded by the way this had suddenly turned around. How her tentative attempt to initiate lovemaking had resulted in an order to obey.

      But still her fingers strayed to the bottom of her woollen jumper and she found herself pulling it up over her head, taking the tee-shirt underneath with it, until she was stripped down to her bra, her naked skin gleaming in the firelight.

      ‘Very good.’ Zahir’s eyes travelled over her, his eyelids heavy, dark lashes flickering. Anna heard him swallow. ‘Now, stay still.’

      Raising both hands, he held them in front of her, their span so large, their skin so dark, as they hovered over the lacy white material of her bra. They were shaking, Anna realised. She was making the hands of this warrior man shake. Slowly they closed over her breasts, the heat of them searing into her, roaring through every part of her, right down to her fingertips that prickled by her side. And when his fingers traced where the swell of one of her breasts met the lacy fabric, dipping into the hollow of her cleavage before moving to explore the other, she thought she would combust with the agony and the ecstasy of it.

      ‘Remove your bra.’

      Reaching behind her, Anna did as she was told, any pretence of denying him or regaining control vanishing on the tidal wave of lust. As the bra fell to the floor, she kept her eyes fixed on Zahir’s face, determined that she should see, as well as feel, his every reaction. He let out a guttural growl that arched her back, pushing her breasts towards him, inviting him to take her.

      And take her he did. Cupping her naked breasts, one in each hand, he touched her hardened nipples with the pads of his thumbs, starting a rhythmic circular movement that had her writhing in front of him. Then, lowering his head, he took one nipple in his mouth, his breath scorching against her as he slathered her with hot, wet saliva before moving to the puckered peak, teasing his tongue against it with a slow, drugging forcefulness.

      Anna groaned, her body on fire, dampness pooling between her legs, her skinny jeans suddenly unbearably tight, horribly uncomfortable. She wanted to take them off—bizarrely she wanted Zahir to tell her to take them off. But first she needed him to attend to her other breast before she died of longing.

      A ragged sigh escaped her when he did just that, his attention to her second breast no more hurried, no less glorious. Anna plunged her fingers into his hair, pulling him closer to increase the pressure, to hold herself steady. She stared down, her eyes glazed, trance-like, as she watched his head rock against her, his mouth still working its incredible magic. And when he stopped, pulling away, ordering her to remove her jeans, she had no hesitation, falling over herself to stand up, undo the buttons and tug them down, cursing as they clung to her ankles and standing, first on one wobbly leg and then the other, as she pulled them inside out to get them off, ending up all but falling into Zahir’s lap.

      Strong arms encircled her, adjusting her position so that he held her, straddled across him, taking a second simply to look at her, his eyes raking over her like hot coals. She was acutely aware that she was virtually naked, whereas he was still fully dressed in rugged outdoor clothes, but for some reason this only increased her rabid desire. The scratch of his rough woollen jumper against her bare skin, the graze of the zips on the pockets of his cargo pants beneath her thighs, was something else, something so thrillingly erotic, that Anna couldn’t hold back a squeak of surprise.

      Zahir’s erection, the enormous, rock-hard length of it, was like a rod of steel positioned between her buttocks, pulsing against her from behind. She tried to turn, to lift herself off so that she could find the zipper of his fly, her trembling fingers longing to yank it down, to release him so that she could see for herself, feel for herself, this extraordinary phenomenon. But Zahir held her firm, his hands around her waist gripping her so tightly that she could only move where he positioned her, which was squarely down on his lap again. She squirmed provocatively against him, the only small movement she could make. But even that was not allowed, as with a low growl Zahir lifted her up, the small space between them suddenly feeling like a yawning cavern of rejection, before he adjusted his position and sat her back down on him.

      ‘Do not move.’ The words roared softly into her ear from behind and Anna could only nod her acceptance as she felt one hand release her waist and move round to her front, where it trailed down over her clenching stomach muscles and slipped silently under the front of her skimpy lace knickers. The shock halted her breath, setting up a tremble that she couldn’t tell whether was from inside her, or out, or both. She found herself desperately hoping that this didn’t count as moving because she couldn’t bear to disobey him now—not if it meant he was going to stop what he was doing. Gingerly tipping back her head, she rested it against the ridge of his collarbone, relieved when he seemed happy with this.

      ‘That’s right.’

      His fingers brushed over her until they met the damp, throbbing centre of her core. Anna waited, poised on the brink of delirium, as one finger parted her sensitive folds, then slid into her with a slow but a deliberately controlled movement that shook her whole body from top to toe.

      ‘Open your legs.’

      The voice behind her commanded and Anna obeyed, parting her thighs, amazed that she had any control over any part of herself.

      ‘Now, stop. Stay like that.’

      It was like asking a jelly to stop wobbling, but Anna did the best she could, and with her head pressed hard back against his shoulder she screwed her eyes shut. Drawing in a breath, she waited, ready to give herself over to him completely, to do with her whatever he saw fit.

      It was the most glorious, astonishing, explosion of mind-altering sensations. As his finger moved inside her, it rubbed against the swollen nub of her clitoris until he was just there, in that one spot, stroking it again and again with a pressure that could never be too much and never be enough. With the agonisingly pleasurable sensation swelling and swelling inside her, it felt as if her whole world had distilled into this moment, this momentous feeling. She would trade her entire life for the concentrated pleasure of this building ecstasy.

      But trying to stay still was an impossibility. Even with the weight of Zahir’s arm diagonally across her body she couldn’t help writhing and bucking.

      With his breath hot in her ear, the rock-hard swell of him beneath her buttocks, there was no way she could stop her legs from parting further, her back from arching against him, her bottom from pressing down into him. And as he continued his glorious attentions the pressure built more and more until what had seemed just tantalisingly out of reach was suddenly there upon her, crashing over her, carrying her with it. And, as that wave subsided and Zahir continued to touch her, another one followed, just as intense, then another and another, until Anna thought the moment