A REASON FOR MARRIAGE

“Don’t you dare.” She caught his hands, but he swatted hers away with ease. He undid her dress and it fell. Sara caught it. The motion of the car made her fall against him, and made the apex between her legs grind into Simon’s hardness. She could hear his breath coming harshly, see the color slash across his cheekbones. She felt sick inside, knowing that he could just as easily be doing this with any other woman.

She heard him sigh, and he looked up at her with a curiously unguarded expression. She was caught by it.

“Sara, please believe me: if I were in the unfortunate position of having Cecilia Hampton straddle my lap right now, I can assure you that she would not be feeling what you’re feeling.”

He snaked a hand around the back of her neck. Sara tried to hold herself stiff, but it was too difficult. His voice was low, reasonable, and oh, so sexy.

“You’d disappeared when I went looking for you, so I went back to wait at the bar, thinking you’d come find me there. Cecilia approached me. If you’d watched for another few seconds before running out, you would have seen me extricate myself from her extremely unwelcome embrace. I don’t understand why you don’t trust me, Sara,”Belongs to NôvelDrama.Org - All rights reserved.

Sara looked down at him. He looked sincere. Had she read it wrong? She found herself wanting to believe him so much. And that was beyond scary in its implications. But right now she could avoid thinking about it without a huge amount of effort. The need consuming her, consuming the air around them, was too great. Desire flowed, hot and urgent, between them. This was all-encompassing, and she had to give into it and deal with the fallout later.

Simon slowly moved his hand from the back of her neck, over her shoulder and down to her hands. He exerted a little bit of pressure and Sara let him pull her hands away, giving in to a need too great. Her dress fell to her waist, baring her breasts. She put her hands back onto the seat behind Simon. He took her face in his hands and kissed her softly, reverently. It made something hard melt inside her. She sank into him, found her hips moving sinuously against his. Urgency rose. His kiss became more forceful. He dragged his mouth away and held the weight of one breast in his hand before flicking out a tongue and laving the distended peak.

Sara’s back arched. She pressed kisses feverishly to his face, mouth, neck, her hands seeking to rip open his shirt. Buttons popped and his bow tie disappeared down into the cracks between the seats. She blindly sought his belt buckle and opened it impatiently.

“You’re like a fever in my blood, Sara. There’s no one else I want.”

His words set her aflame even more, and she bent to kiss him again. He lifted her slightly and she braced her hands against his shoulders. She bit her lip as she heard his zip come down, and as he pulled his trousers down with a rough urgency. Then he settled her back and she almost cried out at the sensation of his hard, virile, unsheathed heat, right there.

He lifted her dress at her waist, and she heard fabric rip as he brought two hands to the side of her knickers and pulled. He pressed a kiss to her throat as she felt the material being pulled away. “I’m not sorry and I’ll buy you new ones.”

She didn’t care. She wanted him inside her, right now. The ache was killing her.

As if he heard her silent plea, he lifted her again, and she could feel his hand on himself as he guided his rigid length to the apex of her thighs. He slid in easily, and as Sara sank down onto him, he surged upwards. She was so turned on, and the sensation was so shockingly thrilling, that she came right there and then, her inner muscles clamping around him in a series of minor convulsions.

She dropped her head into his shoulder. He was still rigid within her, filling her. “Oh God, I’m sorry…” She was breathing heavily.

He pulled her back, tipped her head up, pressed a kiss to her mouth, slid his tongue between her soft lips. She could feel him stir within her, and inexplicably she could feel herself start to respond again, not being allowed to fall back to earth; she was kept on a high plateau of sensation that threatened to go even higher.

“We’ve only just started.”

With a slow, burning intensity, Simon moved within her like a devil magician. He brought her to the edge only to stop, then start again. In a fever of prolonged ecstasy, skin slick with sweat, it was only when he knew he couldn’t hold back that he allowed free rein to his movements, which became urgent. His big hands moulded her back, held her hips steady. Sara was beyond words. Everything in her was reverent, the orgasm that broke through her just before his was so powerful that she had to keep her eyes locked on Simon’s or she would have disintegrated into pieces.

Simon had never felt anything like this. He’d almost have believed that she hadn’t climaxed, if he hadn’t felt her body contracting powerfully around his. But she’d done it with such quiet intensity that it had made his own completion burst up in a never-ending stream of exquisite pleasure. Only her biting her lip at the zenith of sensation had shown any of her internal experience.

Sara shook all over. Simon pulled her into his chest and cradled her against him. They were still joined intimately, and at that moment she couldn’t ever imagine being separated from this man. She’d never felt like this with her Bruce, and she’d had so many hopes and dreams of a happy future. Something extraordinary was happening between them, and she hated to admit it.

When they reached his apartment, Simon carried her straight up to his bathroom and ran them a bath. Then they made love. Again. And now she lay here, blissed out. Replete. Complete.

________

She heard a movement and looked up. Simon was holding out a big robe.

“Come on, or you’ll turn into a prune.”