The Silver Bride

Stella felt whole again for the first time since she had left Chandos, but all the more conscious that the emotional hold which Dior had on her was stupendously strong. Dior smoothed the tumbled silvery hair from her damp brow, his eyes liquid dark with emotion.

'You were right,' he whispered with a roughened edge to his dark, deep voice. 'When I asked you to be my mistress, I didn't consider you. I wanted you back in my bed.

That was the bottom line.' Stella shivered, defenseless against her hunger to be as close to him as his skin. 'Well, I don't want to be your mistress,' she whispered shakily. 'But I do want to be with you tonight...' Dior wasn't quite quick enough to hide his surprise. Shocked by her own daring, Stella reddened, not even sure where that frank confession had come from.

'I don't deserve you,' Dior grated quietly as he bent and lifted her easily off her feet and up into his arms. Stella buried her hot face in his shoulder and gloried in his physical strength. At that instant being with Dior was all she wanted hi the whole wide world. He settled her down on a divan in a low-lit elegant bedroom.

He ran the zips down on her boots and eased them off. He sprang upright again with that fluid grace she adored and began to undress. Watching him discard his clothes, Stella was weak with longing. She shimmied out of her tights and clumsily tugged off her sweater. 'Stop it,' Dior scolded with twinkling golden eyes full of mingled reproach and anticipation.

'I want to do that.' Her mouth ran dry as he came back to her, his bold arousal flagrant proof of his powerful masculinity. He was like a bronze sculpture, but far too e.r.o.t.i.c to ever be put on public view. Nor could any metal ever have portrayed his sheer vibrancy.

Stinging s.e.x.u.a.l awareness shot through Stella like an electric current Dior unclipped her bra. Her full b.r.e.a.s.ts were adorned by pouting pink n.i.p.p.l.es. His slumbrous eyes burning her temptingly exposed flesh, Dior suddenly g.r.o.a.n.e.d, 'Skylar… I shouldn't be doing this!' Stella frowned in bewilderment.

His tension pronounced, Dior raised his scorching gaze to her moist parted lips and then to her confused eyes. Just as suddenly he appeared to reach a decision, and he closed his hands over hers to haul her into his arms. He possessed her mouth with a raw, hungry heat that provoked a startled gasp from her, and then he eased her over him to deftly dispose of the rest of her clothing.

'I want you every way there is,' he intoned, lowering her to the pillows and running sure hands over the straining sensitivity of her b.r.e.a.s.ts. 'But gently, Little Mou.' Excitement already running like fire through her as he teased her prominent n.i.p.p.l.es, Stella could only manage a shaken m.o.a.n, and then she reached up, plunging her fingers into his thick black silky hair to draw his gorgeous mouth back to hers again. She let her fingers slide down over his taut flat stomach, reveling in the sudden tightening of his muscles as she traced the fine furrow of hair to its magnificent source.

With a ragged laugh at her new boldness, Dior flung himself flat on the bed and watched her explore him with golden eyes full of indulgence. Then he drew her up to him with lazy e.r.o.t.i.cism and began to show her what he liked. And, shy and uncertain as she was, she was driven by the most intense need to give him p.l.e.a.s.u.r.e.

'Enough,' Dior g.r.o.a.n.e.d all too soon, lifting her to him with powerful arms and kissing her breathless. He studied her with deeply appreciative eyes. 'I love teaching you...but you're too fast a learner.' 'Am I?' Stella shivered, shockingly aroused by the excitement of touching him, loving him. She sank on his lean, hard all-male length to lose herself in another carnal kiss with the ease of a programmed doll.

He rolled her over and began to systematically drive her wild. Her heart hammered like insane. Nothing existed for her but Dior and the tormenting need which now controlled her. He found the swollen, aching sensitivity at the very heart of her and she couldn't stay still. Her breath sobbed in her throat then as she twisted and jerked beneath a tidal wave of exquisite sensation. 'Please...' she gasped helplessly.

Eyes burning pure gold, Dior slid between her parted t.h.i.g.hs and entered her with an earthy growl of satisfaction. The feel of him stretching her gave her the most intense tormenting p.l.e.a.s.u.r.e. He moved fast and deep, and a low, keening sound was wrenched from her. His every thrust burned her with liquid fire.

All control was decimated, her overwhelming hunger driven higher and higher. She clung to him in wild abandonment, out of her senses with p.l.e.a.s.u.r.e long before he pushed her to a shattering climax.

Stella came back to herself with tears in her eyes and a dazed sense of wonder. She relived the instant when Dior had shuddered over her, reaching down his zenith with dominant power, and she stroked loving fingers through his tousled damp hair and pressed her reddened mouth reverently against his shoulder.

'You make me feel so special...' she whispered unsteadily. Special, for the first time in her entire life, she realized ruefully—just as the phone by the bed buzzed and Dior'slong, lithe length suddenly tensed above hers. 'Don't answer it,' she muttered urgently, not wanting anything to intrude. 'I'm expecting a call.' Dior eased free of her to roll over and reach for the phone.