It emanated an aura of indomitable male strength without the overdelineated musculature that came from excessive weight lifting at a gym. And his dark olive skin gleamed with a taut smoothness that incited an almost compelling desire to touch. Emily was not an expert on judging men’s sexual equipment, but the sight of Zageo’s certainly set up flutters of nervous excitement.
He stepped forward, his hands virtually spanning her waist as he lifted her into standing on the bed. ‘Unfasten the skirt,’ he commanded. ‘Show me how willing you are to do whatever I want.’
Impossible to back down now, she told herself. The challenge blazing from his eyes seared her own sense of honour, forcing her past the point of no return. He’d taken the deal. She had to deliver.
As she reached around to the zipper at the pit of her back, he released her waist and lifted his hands to her naked breasts, rotating his palms over the taut peaks, making them acutely sensitive to his touch, driving arcs of piercing pleasure from her nipples to below her belly and causing Emily to gasp at the intensity of the feeling.
The unfastened skirt slithered down to pool around her feet. Her gasp turned to a moan of yearning as the almost torturous caress of her breasts ceased. Her hands curled urgently around Zageo’s shoulders, unconsciously kneading them in a blind desire for continuity. He bent his head, his mouth swiftly ministering the sweetest balm to her need, licking and sucking as he hooked his thumbs into her panties and drew this last piece of clothing down her legs.
She stepped out of the restricting garment without a moment’s hesitation, her previous inhibitions erased by the excitement coursing through her. He stroked her inner thighs, making them quiver, making her stomach contract in wild anticipation as he moved a hand into the slickened folds of her sex, fingers sliding over the moist heat that had been building and building from the erotic ministration of his mouth on her breasts.
Every one of her internal muscles tensed, waiting for a more intimately knowing touch, wanting it, craving it. Slowly his fingers slid inside, moving as deeply as they could, undoubtedly feeling the pulsing welcome her body gave instinctively. They withdrew to circle the entrance tantalisingly while his thumb found and caressed her clitoris, increasing an erotic pressure on it as his fingers pushed in again. And again. And again.
Emily’s whole body bent like a bow, driven to an exquisite tension, blinding pleasure consuming every cell and needing to burst into some further place, reaching for it…reaching…the momentum escalating, then breaking past a barrier that was almost pain to shatter into a flood of melting sweetness, her knees buckling at the intensity of the waves sweeping through her.
Zageo caught her as her hands lost their purchase on his shoulders, carrying her with him as he plunged onto the bed, lying her flat on her back amongst the cushions and hovering over her, his eyes glittering fierce satisfaction in her helpless response to him.
He lifted her arms above her head, pinning them there with his own. They were simply too limp to resist the action though she knew intuitively this was a deliberate expression of domination over her and at another time and place she would have fought it. He clearly exulted in what he saw as submission to his will.
Emily smiled. Right here and now she didn’t care what he thought. Her body was humming its own exultation. His gaze fastened on her smile. His mouth quirked into a cruel little twist and swooped on it, his lips hard and hungry, forcing hers apart, his tongue driving deep, intent on stirring another storm of sensation. Her blissful contentment was irrelevant. This was all about him taking his pleasure and he was the one who had to feel satisfied.
Some primitive streak inside her insisted on contesting the ruthless ravishment of his kiss. Her tongue duelled with his, sparking a passionate fight for possession. He might have the use of her body for a while but she hadn’t traded any of her spirit. If he’d imagined getting a tame sex-slave, he could think again.
So consumed was Emily with the need to hold her own in this kiss, when Zageo released her arms she grabbed his head, instinctively moving to wrest back some control over what was happening. She was so caught up in trying to match his wildly erotic plunder, the lifting of her lower body took her by surprise. The shock of him entering her caused a total lack of focus on anything other than the sensation of his hard flesh moving past the soft convulsions of her own, tunnelling to her innermost depths, filling what had remained empty for a long, long time.
The jolt of that intensely satisfying fullness took Emily straight to the edge of climax again. Everything within her pulsed to the rhythmic beat of his smooth and powerful thrusts—each withdrawal setting up a drumroll of exquisite anticipation, each plunge sending her hurtling into a tumultuous sea of ecstasy.
She heard herself moaning, crying out—totally involuntary sounds issuing from her throat. She was barely conscious of her hands squeezing his buttocks, instinctively goading, wanting the rocking to be harder, faster, wilder, until the waves turned into one continuously rolling crest, the explosive spasms of his climax driving it, and she floated off into a space where she was only anchored by him, his arms wound securely around her as she lay on his chest—a heaving chest that felt like the gentle swell of calmer waters after riding through a tempest.
Emily didn’t move, didn’t attempt to say anything. Not only was she in a daze of sensory overload, she had no idea what should or would come next. Besides, her whole experience of this man was that he took the lead in any activity to be shared with him. Moreover, the bargain she’d made put him in charge of her life. There was no point in even stirring until he showed some desire for it.
He stroked her back, making her skin tingle with pleasure. He certainly knew how to touch a woman, Emily thought, silently marvelling at the incredibly fantastic sexual experience he had just given her. If this was a sample of what she’d have to endure at his hands to keep her side of the trade, it was absolutely no hardship.
In fact, she understood why Veronique had come flying to Zanzibar to get him back. It was not going to be easy to say goodbye and walk away from what he gave. Not even an apartment in Paris would make up for having lost a lover of his calibre. Emily had a sneaking suspicion that the memory of what Zageo had just done to her would be a pinnacle of pleasure she might never reach with anyone else. Not even with Brian…
She clamped down on that thought. It was wrong to make comparisons. This relationship—if it could be called that—was something very different to her marriage. It was a slice of life she hadn’t been looking for, eventuating from circumstances over which she’d had no control.