Whatever had caused him to speak like that, she couldn’t focus on it, because a minute later his fingers were pushing inside her, digging into muscles that were still spasming from the way his mouth had tipped her over the edge.
‘See for yourself,’ he said, shifting a little to bring his face level with hers and kissing her so she could, yes, taste her own orgasm on his lips. It was so erotic, so raw and animalistic, so absolutely the opposite of the refined, political wife James had groomed her to be. She’d never felt free to surrender to this side of herself, even when it had become clear that James had wanted it, behind closed doors. But not from his wife.
She pushed those thoughts aside, not wanting to think of James, not willing to let him tarnish this moment. How could she think of him, anyway, when Nikos had his fingers buried inside her and was driving her to yet another soul-tingling orgasm? How could she think of anything but this?
‘Perfection,’ he groaned as she cried out his name, into his mouth, tumbling over into a deep abyss, courtesy of his touch. He made her feel so good, she could almost believe him. She could almost believe she was ‘perfection’. At least in that moment, and at least to him. But there was too much evidence to the contrary, and she knew at some point it would consume her anew.
‘Don’t say that,’ she said, arching her back, silently inviting him to take more of her, all of her.
He pushed up, piercing her with his gaze for a long moment. ‘Are you on contraceptives?’
The question brought with it a cacophony of sound—it was so loaded with her past. With arguments with James over conceiving a baby. He’d wanted one, she hadn’t. Not yet. At first, because she’d felt too young, as though her life were yet to start. And then, because their marriage had turned toxic so quickly, she couldn’t have imagined complicating it by bringing a baby into their home.
‘Genevieve.’ The way he said her name was laced with urgency, and she nodded.
‘Yes, I have an IUD.’
‘Thank God. I don’t have anything. I’m clean. I presume—’
‘Yes.’ She blinked her eyes shut. She’d been tested around the time of filing for a divorce, when the extent of her husband’s infidelity had become clear. ‘I’m clean.’
‘And you are okay if we—’ He stared down at her, the meaning clear, even without him finishing the sentence.
Her throat felt thick as a familiar sense of panic spread through her.
‘I want you,’ she said, with a firm nod. But then, biting down on her lip, and focusing on a point over his shoulder, ‘But I should warn you…’
‘Warn me of what?’
She hesitated, hating her husband so much for the way he’d made her doubt herself. Hating him for the insecurity that was now a part and parcel of who Genevieve was. ‘I’m not very good at the sex stuff.’
Nikos’s surprise was evident. She saw it on his features when she risked a quick glance at his face. ‘I see,’ he drawled, and there was something shrewd and insightful in his gaze that made her want to curl up and hide away from him properly. ‘How about you let me be the judge of that?’
But what if he judged and found her wanting? What if he made love to her and realised she was just as boring and frigid as James always said?
Ice flooded her veins, turning lava cold. But he was right there, kissing her, as if he knew she needed him to blot out those thoughts—as if he inherently understood their chemistry could do that.
Would it be enough to make the sex okay?
Or would this be yet another big, fat disappointment, for both of them?
And so what? a little voice in the back of her mind shouted. So what if it was a total disaster? They weren’t going to see each other again, once she got off the island. Her humiliation would be short-lived.
At least then she’d know, anyway. If sex with this guy fell flat, then she could spend the rest of her life living as a nun, knowing that no man on earth could possibly stir her to the wondrous heat other women talked about.
‘Don’t say I didn’t warn you,’ she whispered as his hands moved back to her thighs, parting them, taking care with the bandaged leg not to hurt her. His cock pressed against her sex, parting her gently at first, so she went completely rigid and still, the old, familiar fears reasserting themselves, remembered trauma and disappointment making her brace for what was to follow.
He cursed softly and then, as if he somehow innately understood that the slower he took this, the more time her doubts would have to get a grip, he simply thrust into her in one hard, desperate movement, hitching himself deep, as far as he could, so she cried out at the rush of feeling, the absolute sensation of fullness, such that she’d never known before.
Stars formed behind her eyes and she dug her nails into his shoulder, holding on now as though, if she were to let go, she might fall right off the edge of the earth. Holding on as though he were her sole anchor in this earth.
‘Okay?’ he asked, scanning her face.
She couldn’t talk. She couldn’t think. All she knew was that this was so different from—and so much better than—anything she’d ever known.
She managed a jerky nod of her head, and then he was moving his hips, pressing into her until those waves of pleasure built in her body. Her hands traced his entire body, only he caught them, one by one, trapped at the wrists, lifting them over her head and pinning them easily right there, so she was completely his captive, a prisoner of his sexual ministrations, a willing supplicant.
‘You feel incredible,’ he muttered. ‘Christos, koukla, you have no idea how this feels.’
