A pulsebeat passed before his mind was sufficiently distracted from the carnal urgency on which it was currently focused.With full awareness came decision.He ignored the knock, the driving motion of his lower body and the whimpering cries of the flame-hot woman beneath him more compelling."I'm dying, Etienne…" The female voice was a whisper of sound trailing away at the end into a low moan of pleasure, her small hands at the base of his spine exerting a fierce impassioned pressure, encouraging each downthrust, restraining the extent of his withdrawal.He broke her grip with a small movement of his powerful thighs. "I'll make it better," he murmured, Isme's selfishness too shortsighted for her to realize with more leverage he could add enchanting dimension to her "dying." Withdrawing until he almost left her sleek hot passage, he waited a tantalizing millisecond before filling her again. Just short of the extreme, pleasurable limit Isme was waiting for with trembling need, the second urgent rapping on the door resounded in a familiar, prearranged rhythm and Etienne groaned."You're… not… leaving." The aroused woman in his arms voiced her objection in breathless throaty remonstrance, her hands gripping him again, the fire between her thighs voracious, her hips rising, reaching for the ravishing delight he offered… so… agonizingly close.His blatantly rigid manhood swelled further, as though quickened by the second knock on the door and the need for haste, or by the pressing need of the importuning female sweetness rising to take him in more completely, more deeply…He shifted a little to allow better purchase for his legs, experienced a provocative stirring friction against the honeyed silkiness holding him tight, and with his own urgent hunger overwhelming prudent consideration of other commitments, murmured in a husky rasp, "It's all yours, darling…" Holding her naked scented shoulders lightly so she couldn't move, he slid forward that small critical distance she wished and he wished and made the world disappear for a delirious, pulsing moment.Since the Duc de Vec hadn't tripled the thousand-year-old de Vec fortune on imprudence and degage disregard for practicalities, when the first drenching rush of sensation diminished marginally, he found himself swiftly glancing at the small jeweled bedside clock.Damn, his valet Louis's timing could have been better.And his business manager Legere's nerve could stand some bolstering.The action on the Bourse wouldn't peak for perhaps another ten or fifteen minutes, experience and a gambler's instinct affirmed, allowing him a few moments more to indulge his heated libido.
