Sunday Snog 216: The Gazillionaire and the Virgin (#bdsm #romance #sundaysnog)

The last few weekends, I’ve been treating you to snippets from the new edition of Raw Silk, but I thought I’d return to The Gazillionaire and the Virgin today, with an excerpt that really illustrates the complicated dynamics between Rachel and Theo.

When you’re done with my snog, I hope you’ll visit Victoria’s SundaySnog page, for more weekend kisses.

Rachel:

I shift and squirm on the leather upholstery, restless and uncomfortable. The poisonous silence thickens. I’m itching to reach for him, to shake him, to force him to pay attention to me. I don’t dare, though. I don’t want to upset him further.

When we hit the exit ramp and head down El Camino Real, I can’t stand it any longer. “Theo? Theo, look at me. Please. I didn’t mean to insult you. Don’t you know that?”

“I know. That just makes it worse.” He’s still turned toward the window. His voice is weary. “You have no idea. You think everything’s for sale, that given enough money anything is possible.”

“No, really…”

“Me, my software…” He continues as if I hadn’t spoken. “All you need to do is negotiate the price.”

“No! You’re wrong!” I launch myself across the limo, grab his shoulder, and wrench him around to face me. Then I throw my arms around his neck and drag him into a kiss.

For an instant he stiffens. His muscles tense and I think he will push me away. But he melts instead, his lips molding to mine, his palms sliding down my back, then up under my jacket. Through the thin fabric of my blouse, his skin heats mine.

I come alive at his touch. Sparks crackle through my suddenly sensitized flesh. Burrowing deeper into his embrace, I open my mouth to his probing tongue and part my thighs for his questing fingers. I may have made the first move, but now Theo takes over with a decisiveness that makes my pulse race and my clit throb.

“Rachel,” he gasps as we break our clinch to breathe. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Um—oh, yes, that’s exactly right—oh, Theo!—anything you want…” With his right hand dancing between my legs and his left kneading my breast, it’s astounding I can speak at all.

“Be careful what you promise, Dr. Zelinsky.” He twists my nipple, dialing my arousal to an even higher level. “I’ll hold you to your word.” Hauling my blouse up from my skirt to bare my chest, he dives down and catches that swollen nub in his teeth. The last remaining fragment of my rational self tells me it hurts, but the rest of me just wants more.