I hold her down, taking my time, tasting every inch of her until she's writhing beneath me. When I slide two fingers insideher while my mouth works her clit, she comes apart completely, her back arching off the bed as she calls my name. Her climax is a shuddering, breathless thing, and I watch her face, flushed with release.
I don’t give her time to recover. While she's still trembling from her climax, I strip off my remaining clothes and position myself over her. She reaches for me with desperate hands, pulling my mouth back to hers in a kiss that's all tongue and teeth and raw need.
When she breaks the kiss to trail her lips down my chest, I let her push me onto my back. Her mouth is everywhere—my neck, my chest, lower. The feel of her hot breath on my skin makes me shiver, and her hands, still shaky from her release, trace the line of my abs. I watch her from beneath heavy lids, the desire to dominate her warring with the need to give her what she wants. She pushes me back, her hands on my chest, and I allow it, letting her take control.
She trails her tongue down the center of my stomach, leaving a path of fire in its wake. When her lips finally settle around the head of my cock, a guttural groan rips from my throat. She’s using her lips and tongue in ways that have me fisting my hands in the sheets to keep from losing control. She licks the underside, then drags her tongue up the sensitive seam, making me bite my lip to keep from crying out.
She takes more of me into her mouth, her hands gripping my thighs, her fingers digging in with a desperate strength. She works me with a steady rhythm, her throat a sheath of pure heat, and I can't breathe, can’t think, can only feel. She licks her way back up the length of me, then back down, her tongue swirling around the head, her hands on me, stroking me, pulling at me.
I feel the thrum of her teeth gently nipping, and then the feel of her lips pulling and tugging, and I'm a goddamn mess,my vision blurring with a haze of pure sensation. She teases me, pulling back just as I'm about to lose it, then takes me deeper, her tongue spiraling, her throat clenching around me.
The thought of her, giving me this… it’s too much. The heat building in my belly becomes a roaring furnace, and I know I can't hold on much longer. "I'm going to lose my mind," I gasp. "You're going to break me."
Just as I'm about to come undone, I pull her up and flip her beneath me again. I need to be inside her, need to claim her completely. I position myself at her entrance and drive into her in one smooth stroke. She’s tight and wet and perfect, and the feeling of being surrounded by her heat nearly sends me over the edge.
I set a punishing pace, driving into her again and again while she meets every thrust. Her nails rake down my back, leaving marks I'll carry for days. The bed creaks beneath us, the mattress hitting the wall with each movement, but neither of us cares about anything beyond this moment. She comes first, her body clenching around me as she cries out. The feeling of her climax triggers my own, and I bury myself deep inside her, her name torn from my throat.
I collapse beside her, both of us breathing hard, skin slick with sweat. She turns into me immediately, her body seeking mine even in exhaustion. I pull her close, my hand stroking down her spine as our heartbeats slowly return to normal. The cottage is quiet around us except for the sound of our breathing.
When she finally lifts her head to look at me, her eyes are soft and satisfied, though I can see all of her questions still.
"Why?" She asks, the word comes out as barely a whisper. “Why all the lies? Why did you do all those things?”
That's the question I've been avoiding, even to myself.
Why go to such elaborate lengths to keep one naive American woman in my territory? Why risk exposure, waste resources, complicate my carefully ordered life for someone who should have been a temporary amusement?
"Because you interested me," I say finally. "Because you walked into this broken house and laughed with joy instead of running away in horror. Because you offer coffee to dangerous men and think tourism can save a village that doesn't want to be saved."
She's quiet for a long moment, and I can see her mind working through possibilities, calculating risks.
"What happens now?" she asks.
"That depends on you. On whether you can accept the truth about who I am and what this relationship actually is."
"And if I can't?"
The question hangs between us, loaded with implications neither of us wants to examine too closely.
"Then we'll need to explore other arrangements."
"Such as?"
I don't answer immediately. The truth is, I'm not entirely certain what those other arrangements would be.
"Such as ensuring your continued discretion about what you've learned regarding my business operations."
"By threatening me?"
"By helping you understand the consequences of certain choices."
"How much of it was real?" she asks quietly.
"Some of it. Your feelings were real. Your choices, within the parameters I established, were real. Your work on the tourism project has genuine merit. You have good ideas."
"But the foundation of our relationship was all lies."
"The foundation was all necessity."
