Ripped by Sarah Morgan Page A

was designed to drive me crazy and it did. I tried to move my hips, tried desperately to relieve the almost intolerable ache, but the hard grip of his hands were holding me still. Not that he was hurting me, but it was obvious there was no way I was moving until he was ready to let me go. I was totally at his mercy and I’d never known excitement this intense. I needed to come, but he wouldn’t let me. Deprived of any other outlet, I dug my fingers into the soft cushions of his sofa.
    ‘Please, please —’ I couldn’t believe I was begging. I’d never begged a man for anything in my life and I knew I was going to be horribly embarrassed later, but I seemed to spend my whole life in a state of embarrassment around this guy, so I figured at this point it wasn’t going to make much difference. ‘Nico, I really need—’ My words were disjointed, mostly because his tongue was inside me, licking me shamelessly, and now he was using his fingers, too, so that my body was a mass of delicious, shivering sensation hovering on the edge of the incredible. And I was on the edge. Right on the edge. If he hadn’t been holding me firmly I could have moved my hips and finished it myself. But instead of letting me do that, he eased away from me slightly, leaving me hovering between ecstasy and insanity.
    ‘Tell me what you need, dolcezza .’
    As if I wasn’t already desperate enough, now he had to speak to me in Italian, the bastard. His Italian accent and the way he lingered over the word dolcezza almost finished me off.
    ‘You know what I need—’ I couldn’t believe he could be so cruel, but then he put his mouth on me again and I forgave him everything. Every provocative slide of his tongue was designed to torment me—only, this time he gave me what I wanted.
    It was the most intense experience of my life. Everything inside me tightened and then orgasm crashed down on me, the rush of pleasure almost agonizing. And still he held my hips, controlling everything I was feeling until I lay limp and weak.
    I thought I heard him murmur, ‘Merry Christmas, Hayley’, but I could have imagined it.
    Then he reached down and pulled something from the pocket of his jeans. I’d thought I’d never want to see a condom again after the wedding, but it turned out I was wrong.
    I lay dazed, watching as he sheathed himself and then came down over me. I was worried I’d be too sensitive, but just looking at him made me want him again and I wrapped my legs around him and felt his hand slide underneath my buttocks, lifting me. My breathing was shallow and my cheeks were burning, but I didn’t think the heat had anything to do with the flames flickering in the fireplace. It was him.
    I was glad our first time was going to be this way because I wanted to look at him.
    And he obviously wanted to look at me, too, because he kissed me again, holding my gaze as he shifted his position. I felt him against me, felt him hard and smooth against the slippery wetness he’d created and I held my breath. Still, he took his time. His mouth seduced mine, his hand was hard on my bottom and his gaze was locked with mine and finally he was inside me, sliding deep in a series of slow, expert thrusts. Oh, God . It felt incredible. I didn’t think I could feel like this again so soon. He was hard and thick and I could feel him pulse inside me, feel his own battle to hold back the primal, primitive desire that had sunk its teeth into both of us. He stopped for a moment, his breathing unsteady and I sort of understood because I wanted it to last, too, but I was also desperate. I dug my fingers into the smooth, solid bulk of his shoulders and rocked into him. I felt the tension and strain in his muscles increase.
    ‘ Cristo , Hayley—’ His eyes were impossibly dark and then he gave a groan and surged into me, and I knew he was as out of control as I was. He was deep inside me, moving with a perfect rhythm and I cried out because I’d never felt anything