Mistresses: Blackmailed For His Pleasure. Annie West

arched against him. “Please, don’t stop.”

      His expression became more intense, more possessive. Then his mouth captured hers in a long, drugging kiss that left her awash in pleasure and need.

      She raked her fingers down his back and melted against him, reveling in the new sensations. So this was how it felt to be joined to a man.

      She hadn’t imagined she’d feel so free. That this moment would feel so right.

      Stefano cupped her face in his palms and locked gazes with her, and she marveled that even in the dim light she saw her need reflected in his dark eyes. “You are mine now. Do you understand?”

      She nodded, but she refused to read anything into that arrogant comment besides the fact she was now his mistress.

      Then he sank into her fully and withdrew before she could catch her breath, only to do it again and again. His mouth dipped to hers and she met him midway, the kiss going as wild and frenzied as his thrusts.

      There were no more words, just an explosion of sensations and pleasures that their bodies understood.

      She matched his strong, sure movements, clinging to him in helpless abandon. The sensations building within her were too huge, nearly too intense to bear. Just as she feared she’d faint from the sheer joy of finding completion in his arms, they climaxed together.

      Gemma had heard the saying of two becoming one, but she hadn’t understood what it meant until now. She felt his heart beat in every pore in her body, felt the tension and power of the man rippling through her in sultry waves.

      He rolled to his side and took her with him, still inside her, still holding her close to his heart. She nestled against the solid wall of his chest, his heartbeat loud and steady against her ear.

      He was as much a part of her as she of him. She felt branded by his touch, his possession. She felt wanted and desirous and loved.

      A delicious, drowsy warmth spread over her. She yawned, her last coherent thought was she’d be content to spend every night just like this.

      This was heaven.

      This was a delicious dream from which she never wanted to awaken. But she knew before she closed her eyes that it would end all too soon.

      For the morning he was sure to pepper her with questions that she still couldn’t answer.

      The whomp-whomp of the helicopter snapped Gemma from her euphoric dream. She lay in the bed a tense moment, disoriented by the splendor surrounding her.

      The yacht.

      Stefano.

      This bed where they’d made love last night.

      His masculine, spicy scent that lingered on the sheets and her skin. The tenderness other breasts and the flesh between her legs.

      She reached to his side. The sheet and pillow were cool. Not even an indentation remained to prove he’d been here.

      The helicopter!

      She bounded from the bed and winced, her body protesting the sudden movement in the wake of the erotic pleasure she’d gained last night. Her gown lay in a wad of torn silk on the floor.

      Impatiently she tore through the closet to find a thick velour wrapper. She bundled up in it and rushed into the salon, still feeling cold inside.

      A maid started from straightening the room. “Scusi.”

      Gemma shrugged aside the woman’s apology. “Where is Stefano?”

      The maid looked to the window. “He left.”

      “In the helicopter?”

      “Sì. May I bring your breakfast?”

      Gemma shook her head and rushed out the door. She paused a second to get her bearings then darted down the hall toward the large room at the end.

      Gaining the upper deck proved easy enough, but she was too late to stop Stefano or even catch his attention. Not that he’d have paid her any heed anyway.

      No, he’d loved her to distraction last night and then left her here on his yacht this morning while he went to the hospital to be with Cesare. He’d lied to her!

      The reason was clear to her. He didn’t trust her to stay away as he’d asked. He’d brought her here last night to ensure she’d not be able to get to land until he decreed it so. The yacht was so far at sea she couldn’t even see land!

      Gemma stormed back to her stateroom and slammed the door. If he’d lied about this, could she trust him to keep his promise regarding the inn?

      A cold emptiness expanded in her, freezing any pleasure she’d felt in his arms. The suite where she’d made such passionate love with Stefano now felt like a silken prison.

      You are mine now, he’d said.

      But he hadn’t meant it in the sense of them being closer as a couple. No, it had been a possessive comment and nothing more.

      He had her under his thumb. Or so he thought.

      She was a fisherman’s daughter. She knew the sea and these people. Somehow she’d find a way to get back to Italy.

      Gemma had to return today to see Cesare, if only to assure herself he was healing after his surgery. Then she must travel to Milan for there was a little girl waiting impatiently for her visit. And what would she tell her about Cesare’s absence?

      The truth.

      It’d been hidden long enough.

       CHAPTER EIGHT

      STEFANO paced the near empty waiting room and damned the time that seemed to crawl by—unlike this morning which had flown by in a rush. He’d not wanted to leave Gemma’s side. He’d wanted to get lost in her lush body again.

      She’d been a virgin. Virgin!

      If not for his strong will, he’d have shaken her awake at dawn and demanded to know what the hell she and his papa had been doing all those weekends in Milan. But he didn’t have the time to delve into it now.

      And he didn’t trust her to do as he ordered once they reached land. He didn’t want to hear any more of her lies. No, he wanted to hear his papa’s side of this now.

      But he’d gotten to the hospital too late thanks to his reluctance at tearing himself from Gemma and then a traffic snarl after he landed in Viareggio.

      Now he would have to wait for his papa to recover before he could get answers. That wasn’t something he was even marginally good at doing.

      “Stefano, please sit,” his aunt had said, her usually radiant face looking haggard. “You are making me nervous with your endless pacing.”

      Maledizione! He certainly didn’t wish to cause anyone any more grief.

      He plopped on the stiff chair beside her and stretched his long legs out. “My apologies. You know patience isn’t one of my strong suits.”

      “Sì, I know. But I also know my nephew and recognize when something is deeply troubling him.”

      “It has been a long morning without word how Papa is doing.”

      She clamped a hand on his arm and her tension vibrated into him. “Did you expect them to stop the surgery and deliver a report?”

      “No, nothing like that.”

      “What is troubling you, Stefano?” his aunt asked.

      Gemma. She invaded his thoughts. Sweet, beguiling Gemma. Sweet, innocent Gemma.

      But he couldn’t tell his papa’s sister that. Not now when her