Abruptly, he lifted my legs to wrap around his tight, trim hips. Rose petals flew up from the bed as he moved me, the flowers leaving a sensual, heady fragrance as they fell back to earth, sliding first against his body, then mine. I felt him pressing hard and stiff and huge between my legs. I exhaled, pressing my fingers into his back, nearly weeping with need.

Again, he started to pull away, but this time, I wouldn’t let him go. My fingernails dug into the skin of his back, and I gave a low growl. “Bien, querida,” he panted. “Bien.”

He positioned his hips, and in one rough movement, he shoved himself inside me, hard and thick and enormous, ramming himself to the hilt. That very first thrust made me explode from the inside out. I saw stars as waves of bliss shook through me. I heard a rising animal cry and realized to my shame that it came from my mouth. I fell back against the soft mattress, as if from a far distance, landing a limp heap on his bed.

He froze, still deep inside me in that first thrust.

“You can go on...” I panted, trying to catch my breath. “I already...”

“More,” he said, eyeing my face hungrily. “Do it again.”

Again? Was he crazy? I shook my head. “I can’t...”

“Again,” he said grimly.

He slowly pushed inside me, this time letting me feel every inch. He made me stretch for him, as I felt him deep inside. It felt good. But he was holding himself back for no reason. I knew there was no way I could...

Drawing back, he slowly filled me again, and then again. Gripping my shoulders tight with his hands, he rode me. To my amazement, a new tension began to build deep inside me. Different this time. Even deeper. With a gasp, I wrapped my hands around him, feeling the clench and unclench of the muscled cheeks of his backside, feeling the sweat on his skin as he fiercely held himself in check.

His thrusts became rougher as he rode me harder, faster, our sweaty naked bodies sliding against each other. He held my shoulders tight enough to bruise, as he pounded me hard, hard, hard. Deep, deep, deep. My back started to arch again. Seeing that, he sucked in his breath and lowered his lips to mine, kissing me. I felt the flick of his tongue against mine as he rammed into me so deep, and that was it—the brutality and force and lust shook me into an explosion so great I screamed into his mouth.

His self-control evaporated. With a low guttural growl, he shoved into me one last time, and with a gasp and groan, he spent himself inside me.

He collapsed, his body heavy over mine on the bed.

It took long moments for me to return back to earth. When I did, my eyes flew open.

“We forgot to use a condom,” I blurted out. I expected him to look horrified. He did not.

“I forgot nothing.” He gave me a heavy-lidded smile. “I want to get you pregnant, Lena.”

Shock went through me as I stared at him with wide eyes. “But we...”

“I will fill you with my child, mi esposa. Try to fight me if you must,” he whispered, then his smile lifted to a grin. “It is always a pleasure to battle with you.”


SUNSHINE WAS SPILLING from the windows, across our naked, intertwined bodies spread across the bed, the white cotton sheets twisted and tangled at our feet. My first thought when I woke was to think it all had been a dream. Then I saw Alejandro, still sleeping in my arms, a soft smile on his chiseled face.

I caught my breath. My heart beat faster, in a rhythm like music, because joy—pleasure—everything I’d ever wanted had all come true at once.

Slowly, Alejandro opened his eyes, and his smile widened. His expression was open, and young, and he, too, seemed to be shining with happiness. “Buenos días,” he whispered, leaning forward to kiss me tenderly on the forehead, “mi corazon.”

“Good morning.” I blushed, looking away, feeling oddly shy.

Reaching out, he lifted my chin and kissed me, until all thoughts of shyness disappeared beneath the mutual hunger building anew between us.

How was it possible? We’d made love three times last night—three times!—and yet he was still brand new. I gloried in his touch, in the feel of his naked, hard-muscled body against mine, his arms holding me as if I were truly the precious names he’d called me. My pleasure, my duchess, my wife. My lover.

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