Abducted By Desire

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*banner done with help from cooltext.com*

*story used permission from Lady Kai*

The tall man lowered his binoculars and carefully replaced them in their case, putting it in the pack he had at his feet. He withdrew a cellular phone and quickly dialed a number.

"It is time. Call me when you have accomplished the deed." He didn't wait for an answer, but pushed the "END" button and put the phone back in his pack. He gave one last glance out the window and then slung the pack over his shoulder and strode out of the room.

Cheryl sat at her vanity brushing her hair, contemplating her reflection in the mirror. She dissected her features, trying to see what people saw in them. She couldn't see any beauty in her too high forehead or her slanted amber eyes that looked almost Oriental. She saw none of the attraction of her thin upper lip and too full lower one, or her thin , straight nose. She did, however, have to admit that her hair was probably her best feature, being long, and thick, almost reaching her waist and so black it had blue highlights. She also conceded that she had a good figure, thanks to regular workouts in the gym. Her breasts were full and firm, her belly flat, hips slightly curved (which she constantly lamented, wishing she was more voluptuous like her best friend, Sara, who always had men buzzing around her), long firmly but unnoticeably muscled legs.

Cheryl had no idea how lovely she was. She had no notion of the effect she had on men. When she walked down the street, men stopped and stared, mouths agape. When she entered a room, all conversation stopped and eyes riveted on her like a magnet. All of this went unnoticed. Therefore, she couldn't understand why James Lingford wanted to marry her. He was the most handsome man in town, not to mention the most eligible bachelor with his ridiculous wealth and charming manners. She was quite taken with him, although she wasn't stupid enough to believe she was in love with him. She didn't think she could ever love any man. She didn't think she was capable of it. The most she'd ever felt was infatuation or extreme affection.

At 25, she had no illusions about falling in love. It would never happen to her and she was resigned to it. She had decided that the best she could hope for was to find a man she liked immensely and be satisfied with that.

Thus, the dilemma with James. She liked him. Very much. But she wasn't sure if she wanted to marry.

On the other hand, James was a very handsome man with his blond curly hair, ocean blue eyes and dazzling white smile. His physique was nothing to sneer at either. He obviously did a few workouts in the gym himself with his tall powerfully built frame that reminded one of a boxer.

Cheryl laid her brush on the dresser and stood up, smoothing her nightshirt over her hips. Oh well, she thought. She had plenty of time to make a decision about James. Right now, she needed to get a lot of rest. Tomorrow, James was taking her to the beach and then horseback riding, two of her most favorite things to do, besides reading and dancing.

She sighed and pulled back the covers of the bed and slid in, switching off the light before settling down into the soft comforter, asleep before her head even hit the pillow.

Ten minutes after the light went out in Cheryl's room, her bedroom door opened silently, admitting a black-clad figure, who went immediately to the bed where he stood for a moment and stared down at the sleeping figure. He then pulled out a piece of cotton gauze and a small bottle, soaking the cotton with the liquid inside before leaning down and pressing it firmly over the nose and mouth of the young woman. /At first, there was a struggle: hands flailing out wildly, then clutching the hand holding the gauze to her face, then the struggles grew weaker until she lay limp and helpless as a rag doll.

The man threw the covers back and swept the girl up and over his shoulder and strode out of the room, slipping out of the house unnoticed by the sleeping, quiet neighbors.

Cheryl's eyes opened suddenly, as if awakened by a noise. There was confusion and a queasy feeling in her stomach that seemed to fade as she took deep breaths. Where was she? What had happened?

As she awoke, she remembered that she had been asleep, then having a chemical smelling piece of cloth thrust over her mouth and nose, making her gasp. Then... darkness.

She sat up and looked around. The room was furnished luxuriously with velvet and silk in shades of blue and gold. Antique furniture was arranged for comfort rather than display, encouraging lazy ease to read or just sit and enjoy the luscious view afforded by the big bay window, which looked out on vast green lawns and even a forest with a little pond with ducks floating tranquilly on the glassy surface!

Where in hell was she? And who had brought her here?

One of her questions was promptly answered as the door opened and the most gorgeous hunk of masculinity stepped inside. She had thought James Lingford was handsome, but he looked like Lyle Lovitt compared to this god!

He was at least six feet ten and very muscular, but lean, exuding leashed power and violence. But it was his face she was captivated by. His eyes were the color of... well, she didn't think she'd ever seen that color before. They were a mixture of blue, gray and green that blended into an altogether unique shade of green. His nose was bold and patrician, giving him an arrogant, aristocratic look, and his mouth...Dear God, should any man have sensual, erotic lips like this? She tore her eyes away from his abundant display of masculine charms and looked into his eyes. It was a mistake. She was pinned to the spot, unable to move or tear her eyes away. She licked her lips in anxiety.

"Who the hell are you?" She had meant to snap the question out as a demand, but it ended up a weak whisper.

The man stared at her for a long time without answering, making her think he wouldn't when he abruptly spoke, making her jump with its suddenness.

"I am Mark Callaway and your future husband."

Cheryl couldn't believe what she was hearing. If the situation wasn't so serious, she'd laugh in his face. But she had a sixth sense that that would be a disastrous move on her part.

Mark moved to the side of the couch on which she lay, looming menacingly over her, though she doubted he realized he was intimidating her... or did he?

"I've brought you here to be my wife."

She stared at him in shock, realizing that he was serious. "Your wife?" she exclaimed, flicking her hair back over her shoulder, unaware of the alluring picture she made, her nightshirt hitched up to well past her thighs and unbuttoned so that the deep cleavage of her breasts could be seen, her cheeks becomingly flushed and eyes bright with amusement and indignation. "This is a joke, right? Any minute someone is going to jump out of a hiding place and say, "Gotcha!"

Mark stared at her intensely. "No joke."

Her amusement died and her apprehension grew. "But you can't be serious! I don't even know you. Why could you possibly want to marry me?"

"You will suit," he said inscrutably, not elaborating.

"Suit? Suit what? Never mind. It doesn't matter. I won't marry you," she said starting to get off the couch.

Mark blocked her movement. "you will marry me. Tonight."

Cheryl gaped at him. "Tonight!" She closed her mouth and her chin came up in a stubborn angle. "I'm sorry to disappoint you, Mr. Callahan-"

"What?" She was thrown off track by his interruption.

"My name is Mark Callaway."

She glared at him impatiently. "I don't give a rat's ass what your name is. I'm not marrying you... tonight or any night. Now if you'll just get out of my way .. . ."

Mark caught her as she attempted to leave, his arm going around her waist and hauling her back up against a hard wall of a chest. She gasped in surprise as he lifted her and sat down with her on his lap. She tried to struggle, but he only pinned her hands to her sides. Finally, she lay panting, glaring daggers up at him.

"What are you going to do?"

For the first time, she sensed amusement in his look, though he did not smile. Neither did his eyes seem to glint with humor. Nevertheless, she felt instinctively that he was laughing inwardly at her outrage.

"I don't think you abducting me and holding me here against my will is very funny at all," she said defiantly.

"you will get used to the idea," he said with such absolute confidence, she wished she could slap him, but her arms were still being held by his effortless grip.

"I will never get used to the idea of force, I assure you," she spat, hoping that would prick his ego. Most men prided themselves on not having to force women to do anything. Preferring to persuade, coax or seduce them into doing what they wanted. Her ploy didn't work.

"If force is needed, then force it is," he replied matter-of-factly.

Cheryl couldn't understand why he would go to such lengths to kidnap a woman to marry her. She didn't realize she'd spoken aloud until he answered.

"I didn't have time to woo a suitable wife, so I investigated prospective ones and spied on them-"

"Spied!" she blurted, indignant. "You mean to tell me you've been watching me?"

Mark nodded. "For two weeks. "I needed to see if you were compatible and suitable to my needs."

"Compatible and suitable to your-oh, you're the biggest chauvinist I've ever met! You think that Just because you think we'd suit that I'd just go along with this-this scheme?" she fumed at him, squirming in earnest, wanting to scratch and bite him. Prudently, he tightened his grasp, effectively stilling her attempts. "You arrogant bastard! Did you think that I'd just fawn all over you with gratitude after you abducted me just because you say you want to marry me? Well, you're dead wrong if you think-"

She was cut off by the mouth that had covered hers in a hard kiss that left her breathless with shock and...interest.

"Why did you do that?" she asked in surprise and not very convincing indignation.

"To shut you up. You talk too much."

She stared at him in astonishment and irritation. "I talk too much? Well, you haven't heard the last of what I have to say. Your the most high-handed, overbearing, rude, contemptible-"

She was cut off again by Mark's mouth on hers, but this time the kiss was longer, covering it with warm, firm pressure that made her mind reel. She forgot what she was saying and just reveled in the novel sensations his kiss roused in her. His lips softened at her surrender and began to explore with his tongue, sliding it back and forth across her closed lips, coaxing her to open them for him. She answered that request by opening her mouth fully, letting his tongue delve deeply into the moist, warm depths. She moaned in pleasure as his hand twined in her hair and angled her head to the side to gain better access. She could feel heat welling up inside her and she pressed her body against him, wanting to feel his heat, too. His hand moved to cover her full, sensitive breast and she arched into it before suddenly realizing what she was doing.

Like a splash of cold water, she came back to her senses and began to struggle in earnest, turning her head away and pleading with him to stop.

Mark lifted his head and looked down at her. "What's wrong?"

Cheryl's eyes widened in surprise at his ridiculous question. "What's wrong? What's wrong! You kidnapped me and brought me to Lord-knows-where and tell me that you intend to force me to marry you and you ask me "what's wrong?" She laughed at him incredulously, then glared angrily up at him. "Let me go! I don't intend to marry you-or anything else with you either. Just take me back to where you found me and leave me alone!"

He stood up, not releasing her and exited the room, striding down the hall where he shouldered a door open and threw her down on a bed.

"I'm afraid I can't take you back home. You are going to marry me, Cheryl. And what's more, you'll give me a son before this year is out."

She sat up, prepared to fight with him, but he'd left the room as quickly as he'd entered it. She jumped off the bed and ran to the door and tried it. It was locked. She pounded on the door, yelling obscenities and threats interspersed with cries for help; all to no avail. The house remained quiet and still.

She went back to the bed and sat down, her anger draining away, replaced by growing fear and anxiety about her situation. What was going to happen to her? He wouldn't really force her to marry him, would he? And if she refused him, would he do something to her? Hurt her? Even kill her?

She shook her head sharply, not allowing herself to think such depressing thoughts. She'd just have to wait and see what he did and search for an opportunity to get herself out of this predicament.

Mark went to the front door and opened it, stepping aside to allow a short, balding man dressed in a black suit to enter.

"I tried to come as soon as I could, Mr. Callaway, but my wife-"

"That's quite all right, Rev. Duncan. If you'll excuse me, I'll let my fiance know you're here."

Mark went back upstairs and unlocked the door and entered the room where a body suddenly launched itself at him. He stepped back swiftly and caught Cheryl as she tried to kick and hit him. He pinned her arms to her sides and squeezed her until she hung limp, gasping for breath.

"You will behave yourself, Cheryl, or I'll be forced to use unpleasant methods to ensure your cooperation."

She only lay against him, unable to draw a deep breath, thus unable to tell him what she thought of him. He abruptly let her go and she fell back, falling across the bed where her breath was promptly knocked out of her again.

While Cheryl was desperately fighting to breathe again, Mark went to a closet where he removed a hanger with a white dress on it. He moved over to the bed and laid it down beside her.

"Put this on," he commanded and stood waiting.

Cheryl glared up at him and crossed her arms over her chest defiantly. "I will not."

He stared back at her for a moment before picking up the dress, and taking it off its hanger he unzipped it.

"Either you put the dress on yourself now, or I'll put it on for you."

She narrowed her eyes angrily. "You wouldn't dare try."

Mark reached for her, catching her arm and pulling her toward him. She tried to escape his relentless grip, but he only tightened it and drew her to the edge of the bed. He began to unbutton her nightshirt, fingers deftly outmaneuvering her swatting hands until the shirt was fully unfastened. She jumped up and whirled on him.

"What the hell-I can undress myself, thank you very much!" And she did so, knowing she couldn't win this round, but angrily dragged the dress on over her head. He turned her around and zipped her up, pulling her long tresses out from inside the dress and gathering it up in his hands before letting it slowly trickle through his fingers.

Cheryl tugged her head, pulling the strands from them and spun on him. "What the hell is this all about? Why did you insist I wear this dress?"

Mark took her by the arm and led her to the door. "As I've mentioned before, we're getting married. The minister is downstairs now." He turned a menacing gaze on her that made her stomach quiver with fear. "If you value your-or his-life, you'll not say a word to him about your situation."

Cheryl wasn't feeling as bold as she was before, but she couldn't let him just have his way. "And if I do," she said defiantly.

Mark opened the door and stepped out into the hallway. "You wouldn't want to be responsible for me having to kill an innocent man, would you?"

She gaped at him in horror. "You-you wouldn't do that...would you?" She said this last in a frightened squeak, because she realized that this man could do exactly what he threatened.

"Do you really want to chance that I would?" That shut her up and good.

Mark ushered her into the living room and introduced her to Rev. Duncan. She tried her best to portray the eager and happy bride-to-be, but it was extremely difficult with Mark's eagle eyes watching her every move, waiting for her to slip up.

The ceremony was brief and Cheryl thought she'd scream with the strain of smiling and pretense of being deliriously happy to now be married to the man I loved. When it was time to "kiss the bride," Mark did so perfunctorily, turning to the minister immediately after it was over to pay him and usher him on his way. She took that opportunity to sneak out the room and towards the back of the house. She had figured that she could escape and run around the house and meet the reverend on the way to his car and beg for his help.

She'd gotten no more than a dozen steps before an iron band clamped around her and lifted her off her feet, a hand covering her mouth to prevent the involuntary scream that was forced back into her throat. She was carried back up the stairs into the same room she'd been imprisoned in before and dumped unceremoniously on the bed-again.

She popped up like a jack-in-the-box and snarled epithets at him. "Damn you, you sonofabitch!" she shouted. "You have no right to do this to me. It's against the law to kidnap and force marriage on anyone. You'll go to jail and I'll be there to laugh as they put those handcuffs on you and drag you away."

Mark only glanced indifferently at her and left the room locking the door behind him, leaving her angry and frustrated, but most of all scared of what was going to happen next.

She did know one thing for sure. She wasn't going to let him sleep with her. She would kill herself-or better yet-him-before she'd let him rape her.

Mark, entering the kitchen, pondered the same dilemma. He wasn't going to rape her. That wasn't his style. And he knew that even though she was attracted to him, she wasn't going to give in to any kind of seduction he tried on her. But in order to start trying to beget a child, he had to have sex with her.

He opened a drawer full of little packets of spices, herbs and more of other unidentifiable substances. He rummaged around for a while, finally withdrawing a little baggie filled with a yellow powder. He laid it on the counter and went to work cooking a meal of broiled steak, vegetables and mashed potatoes. After dishing up the food on plates, he went back to the counter and picked up the baggie, opening it and sprinkling the powder on the food, putting a pinch of it in the glass of iced tea that he had poured for her. He put everything onto a tray and carried it up to the room.

Cheryl was pacing the floor, wondering if he was going to keep her locked in here forever when she heard the door open. She whirled to see him stride in with a tray of food. She watched him silently as he went to the table by the fireplace and set it down.

"Come and eat. You haven't eaten for at least twelve hours."

She raised her chin and glared at him stubbornly. "I'm not hungry." Her stomach chose that moment to betray her by growling loudly. She blushed with embarrassment, knowing he could hear it and she turned her back on him.

"You will eat or I'll be compelled to force-feed you."

She turned and moved to the chair he held for her, knowing he'd do exactly that if she didn't comply.

"Someday, I'll pay you back for all the things you forced me to do," she said ominously, intending to make him uneasy, but he only raised an eyebrow at her and sat across from her. He immediately began to eat, doing it with a singular concentration that she watched with astonishment before her stomach growled and her attention was drawn to her own food. It looked delicious and she wasted no time in devouring it just as voraciously as he had done.

Mark watched her eat, satisfied that within an hour, his dilemma would be solved without having to resort to violence or futile persuasion.

Cheryl set down her knife and fork and sighed, leaning back in her chair.

Well, I will say one thing for you, you sure can cook."

Mark bowed his head in acknowledgment and gathered the empty plates and glasses and putting them back on the tray. He stood and picked up the small table and set it down in the corner, then went to the hearth to set a fire in the fireplace.

Cheryl stood up, unable to sit still for some reason. She began to pace, raking her hands through her long hair in agitation.

"So what now? Are you going to let me go?"

When he didn't answer or even turn around, she sighed in exasperation. "Why me? Why did you have to kidnap me? Why did you have to kidnap anyone at all? You could probably have your pick of women who'd want to marry you. You're not exactly homely-looking. And from the looks of this place you're not exactly dirt poor either. So why the abduction?"

Mark straightened after closing the fire guard and stood with his back to the flames, hands clasped behind his back and just watched her.

She was beginning to feel real strange. Her body felt like it was on fire. She could almost hear the blood in her veins and her skin felt unbearably sensitive. She stopped and stared at him.

"I-I don't think I feel so good," she said in a whisper, a little uneasy in her own skin.

Her anxiety grew, along with her frustration. "Did you hear me? I said I'm not feeling well. I think I might have eaten something that didn't agree with me. I also think I have some kind of fever. I'm so hot."

Mark strode over to her and slid his hands up her arms to her shoulders and Cheryl shivered with the contact, her whole body getting hotter. She moaned in distress, the friction of the cloth on her skin was almost painful.

He immediately lightened his grip and reached behind her, unzipping her dress.

"What-what are you doing?"

"You need to remove your clothes. You'll feel a lot better."

She crossed her arms over her chest, trying to prevent the material from sliding off her body, but the chafing of the cloth on her sensitized breasts made her involuntarily straighten her arms and Mark took that opportunity to slip it the rest of the way off, letting it pool at her feet.

She gazed up at him in apprehension. "What's wrong with me? I burn all over."

He entwined his hands in her hair and pulled her head back.

"I'll quench that fire for you." He lowered his head and brushed his lips against hers. The contact made her gasp in shock and burgeoning pleasure. His mouth and tongue teased and flicked across hers until her lips parted of their own accord and he delved deeply into her moist warm recesses. She moaned again at the erotic sensation his tongue was producing and arched into him, reveling in the feel of his hard body against hers. She wrapped her arms around his neck, surrendering to the tumultuous fire within her.

Mark slid his hands down her body and grasped her buttocks, lifting her up against him, letting her feel his arousal. Growling deep in his throat, he stepped to the bed and lowered her onto it, following her down, his kiss becoming hard and demanding, his hands stroking and exploring her body with growing hunger.

Cheryl writhed in an agony of pleasure, her back arching, her hips bucking upward, her fingers clutching his shoulders.

"Oh, Mark! Please, I can't stand it!"

He fastened his mouth on one breast, flicking his tongue over the hard nipple, laving it, nibbling it before sucking it gently.

She cried out with the pleasure and curved her body up into him, cupping his head to her breast. He moved to the other and repeated his torment, sliding his hands down over her belly and between her thighs. He spread her open and began to stroke her clitoris gently in a circular motion.

She came immediately, crying out her release as she bucked off the bed, almost unseating Mark in her enthusiasm. She gasped as she felt her body begin to heat up again almost immediately as he continued to stroke and caress her, his rhythm increasing until she was moving her hips with him.

Mark kissed her deeply as she frantically unbuttoned his shirt to run her hands over his smooth-muscled chest, sliding them down to fumble with the fastenings to his jeans. Finally, she moaned in triumph as his zipper slid down and she withdrew his engorged erection. She stroked it, awed and aroused by his size, bigger than any man she'd ever known. She guided him into her as he maneuvered himself into position and he thrust hard, burying himself deep. She came twice before his second stroke and knew she wouldn't be able to take much more of this. She wrapped her long legs around his waist as he slammed into her, riding her hard and fast. His hips ground sensuously against her, making her gasp and groan in an ecstasy of delight. She met his every thrust eagerly with her hips, digging her nails into the flesh of his shoulders and back.

Mark threw his head back, his teeth bared in exquisite pleasure, his nostrils flaring with his ragged breathing. He began to emit a low, almost inaudible growl that slowly swelled into a roar as he felt her body jerk with her climax, clamping spasmodically on him tightly before he exploded into her, his back bowed with the intense, agonizing release. He came in hard, pulsing spurts that left them both shuddering and gasping in exhaustion.

Cheryl woke, not immediately remembering where she was. She turned her head and saw Mark lying beside her, his green eyes studying her intently, a faint smile hovering about his tempting lips. She felt his fingers slowly stroking her stomach in small sensuous circles, his leg tucked very intimately between her thighs. She knew she should feel shame and horror of what she'd done, but the most she could muster was annoyance.

"You don't have to look so pleased with yourself," she grumbled. "For some reason I wasn't in my right mind, and you were very quick to jump on that, weren't you?"

His smile grew more pronounced and decidedly wicked. "I was quick to jump on you, yes."

She snorted scornfully at his play on her words and attempted to bounce off the bed, having had enough of his high-handed and cavalier treatment. He forestalled her by rolling over her, his weight pressing her into the mattress. She shoved at his shoulders, but it was like shoving a cement block. "Get off me you big oaf!" she hissed, her temper beginning to reassert itself. He only grinned down at her and began to caress her body, smoothing his hands down her sides, slipping them around to glide back up over her ribs to cup her breasts.

Cheryl flushed at the instant heat that suffused her as his hands kneaded her flesh, his clever fingers gently pinching and plucking the sensitive nipples until they were stiffly erect. She tried to slap his hands away, but he increased the pressure, making her subside reluctantly.

"Why don't you just relax, Cher," he murmured lowering his head to nuzzle her neck.

"Relax?" she asked incredulously. "How in the holy hell am I supposed to relax when I've just slept with a man I have no clue who he is?"

He chuckled seductively. "Let me show you who I am, sweetheart." He opened his mouth over her throat and applied suction, his fingers resuming their manipulations on her breasts. He trailed hot, wet kisses over her shoulders and down between the twin globes, turning his head and sinking his teeth into the tantalizing flesh.

Cheryl started at the nipping pain and then moaned as he laved the wound with his stroking tongue. He then made his way up to the plump peaks, using just the tip of his tongue to tease and torment her, flicking it, circling it, blowing on it until she clutched his head and arched her back, firmly pressing her breast into his mouth. He made a sound of amusement as he began to suckle, drawing her breast as deeply as he could. He moved to the other breast and did the same, reveling in her moans and sighs of pleasure.

Cheryl writhed beneath him, that strange fire beginning to burn within her again. She gasped his name as he traveled lower, tickling her navel with his tongue before pressing his face between her thighs. He slid his hands beneath her flanks and lifted, draping her legs over his shoulders. He then proceeded to spread her lips open and torture her in the most delicious and sinful way. He repeated the treatment he'd lavished on her nipples, using the tip of his tongue to stroke her clitoris, spiraling it around and around the throbbing nub until she was panting and straining with need. He glided the flat of his tongue down her wet slit, his hot breath inflaming her even more. He dipped his tongue inside her, delving deep, rubbing it against the upper wall of her sheath. He felt her body clench and he groaned, cupping her buttocks and holding her in place as he thrust his tongue in and out. He moved back up to enclose her clit in his mouth and suck, urging her higher with guttural grunts of encouragement. When he felt she was on the verge of release, he lifted his head and sinuously slid his body up hers, capturing her mouth with his.

Cheryl could taste herself on his lips and tongue and felt her desire heighten. When he dragged his mouth away, she gasped, "Mark, now...please!"

Mark gave a soundless laugh as he eased himself into her, delaying completion for as long as possible. When he was fully planted inside her, he lay still, breathing deeply, kissing her neck softly.

She began to squirm as Mark continued to lie unmoving, while he throbbed and pulsed with life inside her. She could feel him and that only made her want him to finish what he started even more. "Well, what are you waiting for?" she snapped in impatience.

He raised his head and grinned crookedly down at her, playing with a lock of her hair and looking as if he weren't buried to the hilt inside her, as if he had all the time in the world. He raised an eyebrow in mock surprise.

"Is there something you wanted?" he asked curiously, idly squeezing a breast.v She made a sound of frustration in her throat and slapped his hand away sharply. "You know damn well what I want. You're just being obtuse and obnoxious."

That irresistibly wicked grin reappeared and he rubbed a thumb over her full lower lip. "I want to hear you spell it out."

She glared at him, irritated as hell. "you're enjoying this way too much, Mark Callaway."

He inclined his head in acknowledgment. "As you say, but I still want to hear you tell me outright what you desire."

She wriggled as her body became unbearably sensitive. She could feel every pulse of his shaft inside her, the roughness of his callused fingers on her nipples, the way his chest and belly moved against her when he breathed. They were all conspiring to drive her mad with lust. "Damn you, make lo-"

"Uh, uh, uh," he admonished gently, putting a finger to her lips. "Nicely."

She fumed inwardly, but gritted her teeth and said in a sickeningly sweet voice, "Oh, please, my lord, will you be so kind as to fuck me now." He surprised her by laughing out loud, full throated and brimming with delighted humor. "I fail to see what's so funny," she spat, trying her best to retain her aggravation but her body was really starting to protest at the intolerably prolonged gratification.

Mark was very pleased with her. She had a lot of spunk and wit. He began to withdraw, almost pulling all the way out before gliding back in smoothly. He watched her face turn instantly from annoyance to intense enjoyment. She dug her nails into his back as he rocked in and out in long, steady strokes, guiding her legs around his waist as his pace quickened.

"Oh, God, Mark! That feels so good..." she whimpered, meeting his thrusts eagerly with her hips. "Faster, please...faster!"

He increased the tempo, grasping her hips and lifting her up, rhythmically pounding into her, pumping hard and deep, riding her faster and faster.

"Sweet Jesus," he groaned as he could feel her coming, his own release not far behind. He grunted with effort, driving into her in short, sharp plunges that made the bed knock loudly against the wall. He sucked in his breath raggedly as she snapped upward, screaming his name as her body convulsed in rhythmic spasms, clamping on him like a vice, which hurtled him over the edge. He cried out as he exploded in a hot, wet, pulsating rush. He groaned and collapsed on top of her, his breathing choppy and harsh.

Cheryl wrapped her arms around him, holding him with a fierceness that made him growl in protest. No man had ever made her feel this way before...one minute snarling at him like a spitting cat, the next making her purr with ecstasy. Christ, who was this arrogant, insufferable, intriguing and utterly sexy man!

Mark rose up on an elbow and looked down at her, his eyes a mellow shade of ocean green, a mischievous and altogether self-satisfied expression on his damnably beautiful face. "I think you know me a little better now, wouldn't you say?"

She scowled at him, pursing her lips in displeasure. "you are a bastard, Mark." He chuckled amusedly, withdrawing from her and rolling to his side, pulling her with him and enclosing her in his arms, tucking her head beneath his chin.

"That I am, my sweet," he murmured softly. "But I think you can learn to live with it. Now, be quiet and go to sleep."