Claimed by the Sicilian Tycoon (18 page)

With
gritted teeth, he pulled himself out from under her and off the bed. Once up,
he moved across to the vast windows, which took up almost the entire bedroom
wall. With one hand on the frame, he leaned forward, watching the city play
beneath him. Cars moved back and forth—even at this time of night, people
scurried around. There were no doubt thousands of couples still awake, he
thought, loving in the streets below him, the buildings around him. Men and
women finding each other, discovering each other, but he couldn’t help wonder
how many of them had a relationship even approaching something close to the one
he and Lyra had put together out of nowhere. Not many would be his guess.

He
moved across to the other side of the window, taking in the whole view, but it
didn’t soothe him as it would usually have done. He was too wired up, too
antsy. Something was churning inside of him—something that kept asking who Lyra
would be with if not him—and Andros had no idea how to fix it.
 

“Andros?”

Lyra’s
voice was questioning, hesitant, and he turned to see her, one hand propped up
on her chin, watching him as he had watched the city.

“I
thought you were asleep.”

She
smiled across at him. “I was, just for a little while. I don’t know what woke
me. Maybe because you weren’t here.”

Her
words should have made him smile back but they did not. Instead they sent
something that felt like panic running through his frame. “Go back to sleep,
Rossa
. I’ll come back to bed in a
moment.”

“Why
don’t you come lie down next to me and I’ll give you a massage,” she suggested.
“Work some of that tension from you?”

“I’m
not tense.”

“You
so are.”

He
sighed even as he moved back across to the bed, unable to think of a reason not
to join her. “I will hold you instead, then you can fall back to sleep.”

“Nuh
uh.”

Before
he knew what was happening Lyra pushed him down onto the bed. She held a hand
on his chest as he moved to get up and shook her head.

“Stay
still for me?”

Her
other hand moved up his left thigh, caressing the skin, tugging ever so
slightly on the hairs there.

“Lyra,
what are you doing?”

“Massaging
you,” she said.

The
other hand was removed from his chest and found his other thigh. She caressed
up both, moving higher and higher with every stroke. Andros knew what was
coming, and though he was torn up inside, he knew he would not be able to stop
her. Already his cock was hardening, thickening. Already he could feel the
desire thrumming in the pit of his stomach. No matter how angry, how furious,
he could not get enough of her.

She
bent forward, sweeping her long hair behind her shoulder as she did so, and
then, taking his thick cock into her hands, she dipped her tongue out and
licked the length of him.

He
groaned. How could he not?

She
licked again. Her tongue was hot and wet, and he fisted a hand into her hair,
moving her up and down, encouraging more. She complied, licking along the
length of him, making sure no skin was left untouched.

When
his grip tightened she pulled back, blowing soft, warm air across his shaft,
teasing and building his desire.

“More,”
he demanded.

She
nodded. “I’ll always give you more, Andros. I love the taste of you.”

More
air blown across his dick, and he couldn’t help but tighten his grip. She knew
exactly what he wanted, didn’t she always? And gave it to him with a happy
little sigh.

Opening
her mouth, she took his cock inside. Her lips framed it perfectly and as she
sucked it into her mouth. Her tongue swirled over the head, caressing the most
sensitive spots. He groaned again, moved her head up and down, his fist still
in her hair, and she shifted a little so that she was kneeling directly in
front of him. At the same time, her hand gripped him, rubbing along the length
her mouth could not reach, and in tandem, she rubbed and she sucked, and he
gasped.

When
she pulled free, he wasn’t expecting it and made to push her head back down but
she shook it.

“Stand
up for me. Right here.”

She
pointed to the floor next to the bed. Andros hurried to comply, not even
thinking to do otherwise. The moment he was in front of her, she sat herself
down, gripped his cock, and smiled.

“The
perfect height.”

A
moment later and he was back inside her, his cock filling her mouth. With her
free hand, she took his and placed it back on her head. He gripped her hair
again, pulling it back to see the marks he’d given her on her neck earlier in
the night. The skin there was reddened and flushed. She’d cried out her
pleasure as he sunk his teeth in again and again, feeling her pussy tighten
around him as she came. It satisfied him immensely to see her marked in that
way.

Dios…
He had never
marked a woman in that way before.

Lyra
sucked his cock back and forth, but did not reach up to take him in hand. Her
mouth could not take him all, though, and so he began to buck his hips. She
mewed more approval, and reached a hand down to rub along his balls. Her touch
was soft, hesitating, but felt so fucking good.

Andros
threaded his fingers through her hair, building up speed. She continued to lick
and caress, but the moment he slowed she stopped. He realized then exactly what
she wanted from him and gave it to her.

He
fucked her mouth.

Hard.

God,
it felt so good. He held her exactly in place, right where he wanted her, and
she looked up at him, her eyes wide, as he plunged in and out. She took as much
of him as she could, but he pushed for more, his dick almost tickling her
throat. She responded by rubbing and pinching his balls, and he growled as she
did so, because it only heightened his desire.

He
mouth fucked her ruthlessly and she let him, moaning her pleasure as he filled
her, allowing her no room to move. Before long, he could feel the familiar
thrum in his gut. He tensed his legs, clenched his fists, and gritted his teeth.

His
hips bucked, he pushed himself further into Lyra’s mouth and then…the orgasm
was mere seconds away and he made to pull back, to pull out, but she refused to
let him. Her hands came down on his hips, and she held him in place as he
exploded into her mouth. He could feel it, his come filling her, shooting into
her throat, and she took it. She took it all, her tongue darting out and
licking up every single drop he had to give.

When
he was spent, Andros practically collapsed onto the bed, his legs shaky,
pleasure still throbbing through every part of him. He tucked an arm around her
automatically and she let him, curling her body next to his.

“Lyra,
I…that was—”

“My
pleasure,” she said. “Now get some sleep, you have an early meeting.”

She
placed the cool sheets across them, and laid her head down on his moist chest,
her perfect hair fanned out against him. The room was silent but for their
hearts beating, the city quiet at last.

In
that moment, with pleasure still singing through his veins, with his head
spinning, and his chest throbbing in a way that made no sense, Andros knew he
was
in too deep. Mainwright, the old
bastard, was right. The truth crystallized inside him, and though he tried to
ignore it, there was no way he could. Had known it in fact since the moment
he’d seen her laughing and flirting with the bartender.

No,
he thought, be honest with yourself, before then. The first night even when
he’d let her tie him in knots, so that the only thing he could think of was
slipping between her thighs and fucking her until the ache ceased.

Lyra
had him exactly where she wanted him. And every time he stopped to think it
through, she quieted his thoughts with more of the same mind blowing pleasure.
Only tonight it had backfired. Andros wasn’t sure he’d ever exploded in a
woman’s mouth like that, or ever lost control quite so much. He had mouth
fucked her without any finesse at all and she had let him, wanted him to,
moaned for more.

He
loved it.

Was
enthralled by it.

By
her. By the whole situation. And that was unacceptable. If he spent any more
time with her he might even…no, he wouldn’t even go there. He couldn’t. As
Andros reached across to stroke her perfect hair once more one thought and one
thought alone was clear. The time had come to put an end to this. Before his
jealousy ate away at him, before he was completely tortured by the thought that
Lyra was with him only because she needed a protector, and most of all, before
he fell any deeper than he already had.

Chapter Twenty-One

The
sun was streaming in through the windows when Lyra awoke. She sat up, looked
around the room, and felt her heart squeeze. Andros was nowhere to be seen. She
narrowed her eyes and listened carefully…he was in the bathroom. He hadn’t left
yet. Relief filled her and she pulled herself out of bed, grabbing her robe as
she did so, and made her way into the main room.

She
sat down at the small dining room table, took a deep breath, and played the
previous night back through her mind. She felt jittery and worried, because,
although they’d fucked hard, fucked with a passion Lyra had barely been able to
manage, she didn’t know if things were okay between them. If Andros was over
his rage of the night before....
 

Reaching
out, Lyra picked up a mug and set it in front of her. The milk and sugar was
already laid out for their morning coffee, coffee Andros would make in the
little espresso machine he’d had installed. Lyra felt her heart skip a little
beat as she realized how accustomed she was becoming to their morning routine.
It made her…happy? Was that even the right word?

“Good
morning.”

She
turned to see the object of her thoughts, already fully dressed, enter the
room. He reached straight for espresso machine, and she lifted a cup for him,
adding the sprinkling of sugar she knew he liked, but he shook his head.

“I
will take it black today.”

“Then
I’ll have this one, fill me up please.”

He
did as she asked before looking down at her mouth. A finger reached out to run
along her bottom lip. “Is this sore?”

“Pleasurably
so,” she said honestly, because she’d loved every second of his dick in her
mouth. It was one of her enduring fantasies.

Lyra
tilted her head, expecting him to bend down and drop a kiss on her lips, but
instead he sighed, and made his way around the table to sit opposite her. It
was only when he was seated, his coffee in front of him, that Lyra realized
something was wrong.

Very
wrong.

She’d
been right to worry. Carefully she placed her mug on the table, her hand ever
so slightly shaky, and took a deep breath. It was written all over him. The set
of his broad shoulders, the severe line of his mouth. This Andros was not the
same man who’d sat opposite her just yesterday morning—pre Club Belmont—and
smiled up from his newspaper,
 
before
dropping to his knees in front of her and licking her until she screamed. And
he was far from the man who had filled her mouth with himself just a few hours
ago, roaring his pleasure, panting her name.

“Are
you still mad about last night?” she blurted, but he shook his head.

“No.”

“You
look weird. What’s wrong?”

“Lyra,”
he said. “We need to talk.”

She
shifted, placing her hands on her lap, clasping one in the other to keep them
steady, trying to grab the happiness back she’d felt in the last few weeks. It
refused to come, replaced instead with something that felt like panic. It was a
bad feeling, and Lyra’s heart pounded.

We need to talk
.
“Of course.”

“Firstly
I wish to apologize for my behavior last night,” Andros began.

“Apology
accepted,” she said quickly.

“Secondly,”
he added. “I wish to tell you that you have given me everything you promised.
By the terms of our agreement you have done nothing wrong.”

Her
heart pounded some more. Lyra was seized with a sudden urge to reach across the
table and place a finger on his lips. “Okay.”

He
looked up, his eyes finding hers, and what Lyra saw there made her stomach
clench. She knew what was coming now, it was suddenly, and painfully obvious.
And far too soon…

“However,”
he continued, not breaking their eye contact. “I have decided it is now time to
bring it to an end.”

“I
see.” Her words were soft, holding none of the feelings now running through
her. She kept her gaze steady, because it was vital that she played the part
right to the end. Vital! It was check, her king cornered, but she’d accept it
with grace, leave with some dignity intact. Hadn’t she promised herself that?