He held her steady with his hands, forcing her to take her pleasure full-on. She grabbed onto his head, feeling herself burn and melt beneath him. He ate her with a tight focus, his actions almost angry they were so relentless, as if her pussy had done something to offend him . . . like he needed to show it who was master.

He was, Francesca thought through a haze of sexual heat. Her head fell against the window with a thud, but she was heedless. How could she experience discomfort when she was swimming in bliss?

What sort of a fool was she to take him as a lover? When he walked away from her, she’d never be satisfied with another. She’d be ruined for life.

He used his fingers to part her sex lips. He lifted his head and began to whip her clit hard, pressing and agitating until she called out to him in a frenzy of lust. The vision of him tonguing her sex was indecently lewd . . . unbearably exciting. Her fingers gripped in his short hair, and she cried out sharply.

She exploded in climax, holding on to his head as if she thought she was drowning and he was her only lifesaver. He continued to eat her as she shook, keeping her right on the crest of her climax for what seemed like forever, demanding she give him his due. Just when she fell limp, thinking he’d squeezed every last blast of pleasure from her, he’d move his head or his tongue in such a way that she shuddered again.

He coaxed one last shiver out of her a moment later, before he lifted his head. Her vagina clenched tight when she saw that his lower face glistened with her juices. She panted for air as he regarded her soberly.

“I want to be able to do that to you,” she whispered, meaning it with every ounce of her spirit. What a powerful gift he had the power to give. She wanted to reciprocate.

“Have you ever? Used your mouth to pleasure a man?”

She shook her head. He grunted, and she couldn’t tell if he was pleased or irritated. Perhaps both.

“I didn’t think so. You’ll learn, but those aren’t the type of lessons that should be given in the backseat of a car,” he said before he sat up. She watched as he closed his eyes tightly for a second and put his hand over his mouth. He dropped his hand and glanced over at her, his distracted gaze once again fixing on her pussy and narrowing. Again, he clamped his eyelids shut.

“Get dressed,” he said grimly, reaching for the car door. “I’m taking you back to the hotel, and you’re going to deliver on your promise.”

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The stark anticipation she’d experienced when he’d told her to get into the backseat began to mount again as she reached for her clothing.

Chapter Ten

Ian didn’t say anything on the rainy drive home, and Francesca was too keyed up to push any conversation. It was as if something had happened back there in the car that she couldn’t understand. Some sort of nameless, thick tension seemed to fill the air between them. She would have thought it was the low pressure from the storm but knew it didn’t exude from rain clouds.

Ian was the source.

When they arrived at the hotel and pulled beneath the entrance canopy, a young, energetic valet greeted Ian by name. Ian gave him some directions about returning the car to the rental agency in English and then handed him the keys along with a wad of cash.

“Thank you, Mr. Noble,” the valet gushed appreciatively in heavily accented English. “Never worry that the car will be returned very fast. I’ll see to it myself.”

“You don’t have to worry. The car will be returned very quickly,” Ian said distractedly as he took Francesca’s hand.

“Yes, as you say. ‘You don’t have to worry. The car will be returned very quickly,’” the young man repeated aloud, and then several times under his breath.

“I won’t give it another thought, Gene,” Ian said with a small smile. The short conversation with the valet seemed to lighten his mood a tad. He noticed her raised eyebrows and curious expression when they got on the elevator. “I told Gene I’d try him out in my mailroom if he learned English. He has an aunt and uncle in Chicago and a big American dream.”

She smiled as they stepped off the elevator. “Watch out, Ian.”

He glanced sideways at her as he used the card key to the suite.

“You’re exposing your soft spots.”

“You think so?” he asked unconcernedly as he held the door open for her to enter. “I think I’m being very practical. I’ve observed firsthand what a hard worker Gene is. He scrambles to please when others shuffle.”

“And of course you always want those who are most willing to please you.”

“Yes,” he said, ignoring the sarcasm in her voice. He’d led her to the bedroom suite and now turned to face her. “Are you struggling with that, Francesca?”

“With what?” she asked, confused.

“With entering into an agreement where the primary goal is to please me.”

“I do this to please myself,” she said, lifting her chin.

His amused gaze ran over her face. “Yes,” he murmured, touching her jaw with gentle, blunt-tipped fingers. She shivered. “And that’s what makes you so special. Because pleasing me does please you.”

She frowned. Something about what he’d said encroached on that uncomfortable topic of domination and submission.

He smiled and dropped his hand. “I would prefer you didn’t struggle so much with the basics, lovely. There’s nothing shameful about your nature. In fact, I find you exquisite. You really have no idea why I had to have you at all costs, do you? There’s a quality in you that only a man like me can see . . .” He tapered off when he noticed the bewilderment on her face. He exhaled heavily. “Perhaps time is what is needed in your case. That, and practice.”




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