The Bed You Make
Chapter 49, continued
Stefan waited to see if Dara would understand why he made no move to reap the rewards of his victory. The specter of Cassadine men long gone was never absent from his mind. These were men (like his brother Stavros) who had no difficulty taking that which a woman was sometimes unwilling to give. Stefan determined long ago that no woman sharing his bed would ever be able to claim anything other than willing - and eager – consent. When Dara silently reached out and traced the outline of his mouth with her fingers, Stefan knew she had.
“I've thought a lot about your mouth, ” Stefan heard her whisper. Her murmured confession surprised him with its openness. To admit that she had thought about him sexually before that night was no small thing for Dara. He shouldn't have been surprised though, that having committed to a course of action, she engaged whole-heartedly.
Some primal instinct made him nip Dara's finger before lowering his mouth to hers. His kiss was fierce and demanded her submission. When, in retaliation, she teasingly scraped her nails along his erection, Stefan felt a jolt of arousal that nearly undid him. ‘So ... my wife wishes to play ...' he thought. 'Then play we shall.'
Stefan did not get to the heights he'd achieved by chance. He took advantage of his talent for tactical thinking and slowed things down. "How easily you derail my intentions, ” he acknowledged.
One by one Stefan undid the buttons of the silk top Dara wore. Deliberately he allowed the backs of his fingers to randomly brush against the swell of her breasts. He took pleasure in her ragged breathing. Through it all Stefan held Dara's gaze, daring her to accept a challenge he knew her ego would not allow her to ignore. When he was done with the last button, Stefan painstakingly ignored the invitation Dara's taut nipples offered and instead turned his attention to what awaited lower.
There was no denying the faint tremble of Dara's legs as he knelt between them. Reverently Stefan ran his warm hands along their silky softness before opening them wider to his gaze. He bent and pressed his lips first to the baby-soft skin just inside Dara's knee, then to the sensitive flesh high along her inner thigh. Almost cruelly Stefan allowed the faintest brush of his facial hair against her flesh.
Dara jerked at the sensation.
”Are you wet for me, moya zhena?” Stefan slipped two fingers into Dara's warmth and slowly thrust them in and out. His eyes darkened as her hands fisted the enormous bed's Egyptian cotton sheets. Dara thrust against his hand in an obvious demand for more. Instead, Stefan immediately ceased his teasing action. He withdrew his fingers and tasted them with all the care of a connoisseur of fine dining or patron of rare wines.
“That's not fair,” Dara moaned at the sight.
“Fair?” Stefan gave his wife a cruel smile, then shifted to lay between her open thighs. He directed Dara to lay her legs over his shoulders. His strong hands held her in place. “As you are so fond of saying ... Have you met me?”
