Contemplating the full glory of her amazing body, Nikos almost swallowed his tongue.


‘Can you please say something nice?’ She gave an awkward shrug as she looked down at herself. ‘You’re making me nervous. You hate it, right? I look like something that fell off a Christmas tree. It isn’t me, is it? I should have just chosen something that was plain black and safe…’


Nikos tried to answer, but every neurone in his brain appeared to have fused.


The only coherent thought in his head was that they were going to miss the ball.


‘Nikos?’


He gave up on speech. Instead, he crossed the room in two strides, hauled her hard against his ferociously aroused body and brought his mouth down on hers.


Her lips parted under the pressure of his and she gasped with shock as he backed her against the wall, his hands sliding the silver dress up her thighs.


His hand encountered bare, silken flesh all the way up to a pair of skimpy panties. In the grip of a fierce, primitive need, Nikos dispensed with this flimsy barrier with an uncharacteristic lack of subtlety, his entire focus channelled towards one thing alone. Being inside her. He touched her first, his fingers sliding deep, his breathing shallow as he gently tortured them both with this intimate prelude of what was to come.


She sobbed into his mouth, her pelvis moving against the stroke of his hand in an unspoken plea for more.


‘Theos mou, you feel fantastic,’ Nikos groaned hoarsely, releasing the agonising throb of his erection before closing his hands round her trembling thighs and lifting her. His muscles were screaming with tension, every part of his body primed and ready for this woman.


He took her mouth again just seconds before he took her body.


Devoured by a primitive urgency to claim this woman, he thrust deep into her slick, quivering flesh, feeling her sweet tightness close around him like a velvet fist.


Intense pleasure shut down his mind.


He felt the bite of her nails through the fabric of his dress shirt. He felt the tension in her slim frame as she urged him to move—urged him to release them both from this wickedly sensual torture. But he’d anchored her hard and all the control was his.


He knew she was frantic. He could feel it in the tiny tremors that shook her, he could taste it in the soft sweetness of her mouth. He knew she was as desperate for release as he was. But for a moment—just for a moment—he held them there, the powerful force of their passion held ruthlessly in check while the sexual tension screamed between them.


Prolonging the moment, he withdrew slightly and drove into her again, and her whimper of desperation was almost animal in quality. She was trying to move her pelvis, her lips and tongue licking at his mouth as she begged him with every gasp and every trembling muscle in her over-excited body.


And he lost it.


Beyond rational thought, he drove into her, his passion an unstoppable force, his fingers biting into her soft flesh as he abandoned himself to the fierce burn of erotic sensation that exploded through his body.


The heat was incredible. She felt impossibly tight, her body closing around his, drawing him deeper, and he knew nothing except an explosive need to possess her in the most basic way possible.


It was primal, primitive—no finesse, no gentle seduction. He took her hard and fast, slaking his need with rhythmic force.


And when she came, he came too, the spasms of her body drawing him deeper until they were spinning together into a vortex of pleasure, both consumed by the same agonising starburst of ecstasy.


His final fluid thrust brought a shower of sensation that reached every single part of his body and his mouth was still on hers, savouring every single one of her agonised gasps.


As light gradually cooled the red-hot madness, he lifted his mouth from hers, his breathing uneven as he sought to replenish the oxygen levels in his starving brain.


Gently he withdrew from her body and lowered her. Her hands closed around his arms for support and he knew she was worried that her legs wouldn’t hold her.


Unable to find the words in English, he said what he wanted to say in Greek, relieved that she couldn’t understand him. Then he allowed her dress to slide back down her body and looked into her eyes.


Her small pink tongue moistened her swollen lips. ‘So I guess the answer was a yes,’ she said huskily, and he looked at her blankly, his mind still working at only a fraction of its normal speed.


She gave a slow, womanly smile. ‘You liked the dress.’


Nikos gave an embarrassed laugh, shocked by the degree to which he’d lost control.

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