Lair of the Lion

candles to the good Madonna. Still, danger surrounded every move Isabella made.
    "I want you, Isabella," he said, his voice aching with need. "God help me, I want you again and again, when I should be locking you up somewhere far from me."
    She looked up at him, and the simple act was her undoing. Desire blazed in his eyes.

    Possessiveness. Hunger. Love. It was stark, undiluted. Burning brightly.
    Groaning, he bent his head and took possession of her mouth. Dominating. Male.
    Demanding her response. Devouring her. He couldn't get enough of her, couldn't get close enough to her.
    Despite everything, she was kissing him back, feeding on him. A fire raged in her, burned out of control, a storm of such intensity she was swept up in it, no longer able to think, only feel. Her arms, of their own volition, crept around his neck, her fingers tangling in his hair. She felt weak with wanting him, craving his mouth, his body possessing hers.
    His lips left hers to trail over her chin, down her neck, the column of her throat, leaving flames where his tongue swirled and caressed. There was no drawstring at the neck of her gown to give him access to her body. In sheer frustration he found her breasts right through the material of her dress. His mouth was hot and wet, pulling strongly so that the cloth rubbed her nipples, teasing them into hard peaks of desire. Her body went liquid with need.
    He bent her over his arm, tilting her breasts upward so that he could draw first one, then the other, from the neckline of her gown. The material cradled her breasts like hands, holding them up for his inspection.
    "You are so beautiful." His breath was warm against her aching flesh.
    Her body clenched, a heated pool settling low within her, demanding relief. His hands moved over her, thumbs teasing and driving her wild, his mouth strong and hot and persistent until she tugged at his hair, wanting more. She tried her own exploration, tugging at his shirt, at his breeches, but her legs threatened to give out when he lifted the hem of her skirt.
    "You have too many clothes on," he muttered thickly.
    "So do you," she answered breathlessly.
    He was already yanking his out of the way, tearing away her undergarment to expose her bare skin. Then he was kissing her again, removing her ability to think, building the storm to the next level, his hand sliding beneath her skirt to her thigh, rubbing between her legs to feel her damp invitation.
    "I love how you feel." Nicolai took her down to the floor, to the thick rug in front of the massive fireplace. "You're ready for me. I look at you across a room and wonder if your body will be ready for mine. If just a look would be enough to do this." His finger penetrated deeply, stroked and danced and caressed. "I just have to look at you, think of you, and my body is like this." He settled between her thighs, caught her hips, and pulled her toward him so that his thick erection was pressed against her entrance. "I'm so hard its painful, cara. I need to bury myself in you."
    She gasped as he thrust forward, spearing her, stretching her tight sheath around him. He made a sound, somewhere between a growl and a groan of utter pleasure. He stopped, clenching his teeth, waiting for her body to accommodate his size, allowing her to become used to his invasion so he could inch more of himself into her. She was so hot and tight he was afraid he might not have the control needed to pleasure her, too.
    "More, Nicolai," she pleaded. "All of you. I want all of you."
    He caught her hips more firmly and began to move, surging forward, long, hard strokes, fast and deep. He wanted to crawl inside the haven she offered, the paradise he had never known so completely. He plunged his body into hers, watching them come together in perfect rhythm, wanting to stay there for all time. There was no give in the floor, and he was able to fill her, his every stroke shaking her body so that her breasts quivered invitingly and her eyes grew sultry.
    He experienced no dark thoughts, only the ecstasy of her body, the pleasure he brought to her. He glided in and out of her, pushing deeply, feeling her response as her muscles clenched around him, the ripples spiraling outward until he was caught up in them, too.
    Until her body was gripping and milking his seed. It poured out of him, a hot stream of desire, of commitment, of love.
    He bent forward and took one breast into the hot cavern of his mouth. Shuddering with pleasure, he held her to