The Tycoon's Red Hot Marriage Merger (10 page)

Marco heard Cassandra cry his name while her orgasm flowed through her. The sweet scent of her arousal and climax’s wet heat made him wild, hot with desire. He couldn’t wait to slide his cock inside her sex. “I want you in my bed,” he said, crawling up the chaise and taking her mouth with his, melding her satisfaction with his burning need.

Somehow he managed to gather her into his arms and lift her from the chaise. Her hands feathered up and down his back, her frantic touch sending a bolt of lust straight to his groin. She wrapped her legs around his waist and he could feel her sweet cum against his abdomen. Her pebbled nipples pressed into his chest and he channeled the might of a thousand sailors into controlling his reaction, the need to take her now on the deck of the
Diablo
before he exploded.

She’d lost himself to his touch, and now he wanted to lose himself inside her. But not here. Not yet.

He carried her below decks, still kissing her and barely able to hold her long enough until he lowered her onto the duvet in the master cabin. Her tangled black hair looked like dark onyx against the cream pillows and when she opened her eyes, trust and something more intangible, more emotional than he wanted to see, ghosted through her indigo irises.

“God, you are so hot.” He trailed his lips down the length of her slender neck, pausing to lick the pulse fluttering in hollow of her collarbone. “And so fucking sexy.”

He wanted to plunge into her, obliterate the demons that had haunted him for years, pretend that what he’d recognized in her gaze didn’t exist. Yet a part of him wanted to believe that he could hang onto it if only to save himself for a moment.

“I never thought.” She circled her hands down his back again, then pushed them beneath the waistband of his board shorts. “That I could want so much.”

“Me either,” he admitted, then helped her wrench off what remained of his clothing and tossed it to the floor. He moved his hand between her thighs and stroked her wet slit, teasing the seam with his index finger before pushing it in.

“Marco,” she moaned, her muscles closing around him. “Please don’t make me wait any longer.” Cassandra reached between their bodies and circled his cock.

Velvet heat, wet and sexy, pulled him deeper while she stroked his length, bringing him closer to her entrance. “I won’t.”
Dios.
He’d restrained himself for days because he’d wanted Cassandra’s first time to be special. But her little seduction plan, complete with optimum peeks at her breasts and her awesome bottom had driven Marco’s careful plans from slow and easy to the fast track of mind blowing sex. And that turned him on a lot. Hell, his cock had gotten harder than granite at the briefest, most tender and innocent attempts to give him what he wanted, too.

He bracketed her face with his forearms, then swept her damp tendrils from her glistening forehead. “You sure you’re ready?” he asked, then pushed a second finger inside her.

Their faces were mere millimeters away from each other and her gaze grew black, her indigo irises a brilliant contrast to her dark pupils. Her breath hitched and she whimpered. Her scent, a spicy aroma of peach and sun, made him dizzy. “Yes. Oh God, yes,” she moaned and spread her legs, gliding her hand down his cock.

His heart pounded in his chest and the blood roared in his ears. “Awesome, because I want to see the look in your eyes when I come inside you.” He lifted her hips with one hand and parted her folds, letting her draw him closer.

Marco nudged his cockhead inside just a fraction, and she stiffened ever so slightly. “Marco, I’m… what if you don’t fit?” she asked.

“Oh, I’ll fit just fine,” he promised and pushed in a little more, the sensation of her surrounding him more incredible than he had anticipated. Like she had been made for him and him alone. “And you’re more than ready,
Tesoro
. But this first time might hurt a bit. Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” she said, coiling her arms around his neck and raising her hips. “I do.”

He held her gaze, then moved into her a little more, planning to ease her into accepting his pulsating, large length. “How’s that feel?”

“Like I want more.” She moved her hands to his butt and squeezed, urging him to go deeper.

“God. Yes.” And he lost complete control, driving all the way into her until he buried himself to the hilt.

He heard her gasp, but he couldn’t stop the taking. He increased his tempo, plunging into her faster, harder, and frenzied with the wild taking. Her hips met each stroke, beat for beat, and he could hear their skin slapping against each other. Marco ranged his hands over the swell of her full hips, the dip of her waist, and caressed her full breasts, teasing her nipples while driving into her over and over again.

Cassandra moaned. Wanting more, more, more. Echoing his fevered thoughts. He couldn’t get enough of her. And didn’t know where he ended and she began. He only knew he wanted to brand her as his, claim her and brand her with his body so that she’d remember that here, in this moment, they had become one.

Her palms slid along his back, and her nails raked along his skin. When she brushed her lips against his chest, a part of him relished the tenderness as much as the passion. Waves crashed against the yacht’s hull and the
Diablo
rocked in tandem with their union.

The world outside faded. He wanted Cassandra in ways that excited him, and overwhelmed him. But he couldn’t stop now. Not when she felt so right. Not with her body taking him into her with reckless abandon. Here was where he belonged, losing himself in her hot, sweet sex until their physical connection blurred the lines between lust and love.

He was at once captive and liberated. And while the yacht pitched in the ocean that surrounded them, Marco’s entire being, his body fused with Cassandra’s, couldn’t stop driving into her until he felt the first tremors of her orgasm shuddering through her.

Then he didn’t hold back his release, his seed pulsing through him and into her. And when she crested over the edge again, he followed, calling her name.

Chapter Eight

Stars burst behind Cassandra’s eyes and tremors waved through with a force she had never known. She couldn’t think, the emotion balling in her throat too powerful to ignore. What had happened between them surpassed anything she had imagined. The intensity of Marco’s fierce possession, the power and strength of his body loving hers had unshackled a longing she’d imprisoned, too afraid to examine her desire for more than token affection. For years she’d been relegated to the corner of the room, an observer, not a participant.

Being with Marco, feeling him move inside her even after his powerful release completed her.

Her vision blurred. She didn’t want this to stop. Ever. Something close to love danced alongside her craving for more. More of Marco, more of the man he’d buried beneath his commanding persona. She wanted so much more of the man who cried her name in the throes of passion.

“You okay?” He pulled up on one elbow, lifting his body just a smidgeon away from hers. “I didn’t hurt you. Please tell me I didn’t.”

“No, everything was—is—wonderful.” Only now her heart tiptoed into a dangerous territory and she couldn’t bear to consider how much he could break it should she admit the depth of her feeling.

“
Buenos.
” He caressed her brow, cheeks, and then traced her lips as if trying to memorize every detail in her face.

His touch, tender and sweet, brought a rush of warmth through her. Oh, how she loved being with him, this way. Every way. “You make me feel…”
adored, cherished, protected.
Cassandra feathered her fingers along his shadowed jawline, silencing herself. “Incredible.” The last thing Marco wanted to hear was words of love. But oh, if only she could whisper them and make them come alive.

He touched his forehead to hers. “Incredible is an understatement,
Tesoro
.”

She felt him grow hard inside her. “Marco?” she asked. Surely he couldn’t be ready for her again this fast.

He locked his eyes on hers, and she could feel every inch of his length throbbing. “You’re like a drug.” He stroked in and out of her, slowly and deliberately. “I can’t get enough of you.”

“That makes two of us.” Her body tingled, grew languid with each skillful glide of his cock.

She spread her legs and wrapped her arms around his neck, drawing him closer until their lips melded. His tongue pushed into her mouth and she caught with her own. Feasting, diving in and sliding against each other. An intimate dance, mimicking their rhythmic, sensual connection.

Where first they had been frantic, frenzied, fierce, now they moved in tandem within the bubble of two beings becoming one. Marco buried himself deep in her, withdrawing and reentering with exquisite, agonizingly sweet long strokes. Oh, how he filled her. Made her forget everything but this moment, this time, this connection.

Words didn’t matter. Feeling him move inside her, the first tremors of her orgasm building again, the pulse of his cock straining with his powerful release, was the very substance of her being.

Marco filled her. Completed her. Made her feel whole. Here she could find something more powerful than acceptance and affection. Here she could find love. Cassandra crested over the edge of reason again. She cried his name and heard him echoing hers. And she took him with her, knowing that somehow he would discover that love existed if he let her into his heart.

###

“No,” Cassandra screamed, thrashing in her sheets and tangling them between her legs. “Don’t let go. You can’t let go.”

Marco bolted upright and swiped the sleep out of his eyes.
Dios
. What was wrong? “It’s okay. You’re having a dream. You’re with me now.” He hushed her and stroked her back until her shuddering sobs halted and she stilled in his arms. A protective feeling filled him when he kissed the top of her head. “It was only a nightmare,” Marco murmured. “You’re safe with me.”

“Please don’t leave me,” she said.

Something twanged in his chest. A painful, sharp knifing cut into his sternum. “I won’t,” he promised, holding her closer.

Her cheeks were damp against his chest and he could feel her wet eyelashes sweep across his skin. He stroked her dark hair from her brow and kissed the top of her head. “Tell me about it. Maybe it will help.”

“The day of the crash.” She sounded like she was emerging from a long tunnel. “Justin slipped down the pontoon. I grabbed him, but his hands were too slick, and I couldn’t hold on. I tried. I… I lost him.”

Her tears dampened his chest. He stroked her hair from her temple, kissed the sorrow from her cheeks. Emotions, long unspoken, lodged in his throat, the pain scraping him raw. “It was a terrible accident.”

Talking about that day and all he’d lost stirred old resentments. But Cassandra hadn’t been the cause. Weather. The ocean’s temper. Poor judgment by the helmsmen? They had brought about a terrible tragedy. But his wife? In many ways she had become just another victim.

“I can’t even bear to think about losing you that way,” she said quietly.

“I can think of worse ways to die than being lost at sea. At least I would go out while doing something I love.” Which was what his father had done. Something Marco could respect, but it had come at a very high price.

“I would be horrified if more lives had been lost that day, especially yours.” She looked up through her lashes. “It’s bad enough you were blamed for the accident when my father couldn’t have been more wrong.”

“
Si.
But then you wouldn’t be here, in this bed, with me. And I happen to like having you here.” A lot. Way too much. But he couldn’t deny the fact that the events that brought her into his life, the things he had put into motion to exact his revenge, had given him something he hadn’t bargained for at all. A lover who made him want to be a better person. More than that, he liked her. And he liked being with her. A great side-benefit to marriage that he hadn’t expected.

And now that he had Cassandra, he didn’t want to lose her. Sure, he needed her to get back into her father’s society and regain the reputation he had lost four years ago, but he cared about her and wanted Cassandra to let go of the guilt that had consumed her all those years. “Justin slipped. And based on the autopsy reports, I don’t think you could have saved him.”

She fanned her fingers across her breastbone. “But maybe if I hadn’t tried so hard to get my father’s approval and acceptance by designing that catamaran, wanting to race her,” Cassandra said, her voice wavering. “Then none of this would have happened. Your father would be alive. And we, well we wouldn’t be married, would we?”

“Sometimes things happen for a reason,” Marco said. “And your father should have realized what a diamond he had when he brought you home from the hospital. And what about your mother? Why didn’t you talk to her about everything you’d gone through?”

“You’ve met her, do you think I could?”

Her mother had been right in the mix of accusers, supporting Cassandra’s father 100-percent though no proof had been given. “I guess not.”