Because You Are Mine Part IV: Because You Must Learn

BOOK: Because You Are Mine Part IV: Because You Must Learn
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Because You Must Learn

Beth Kery







Because You Must Learn
Copyright © 2012 by Beth Kery

The right of Beth Kery to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

Published by arrangement with InterMix Books, a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

Cover Image © Brooke Fasani/Corbis

First published in this Ebook edition by Headline Publishing Group in 2012

Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, with prior permission in writing of the publishers or, in the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.

All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Cataloguing in Publication Data is available from the British Library

eISBN 978 1 4722 0061 7


An Hachette UK Company

338 Euston Road

London NW1 3BH

Beth Kery lives in Chicago where she juggles the demands of her career, her love of the city and the arts and a busy family life. Her writing today reflects her passion for all of the above. She is the bestselling author of over thirty books and novellas. She also writes under the pen name Bethany Kane. You can read more about Beth, her books and upcoming projects at
or follow her on Twitter @bethkery.

By Beth Kery

Wicked Burn

Daring Time

Sweet Restraint

Paradise Rules



One Night of Passion series writing as Bethany Kane

Addicted To You

Bound To You (e-novella)

Captured By You (e-novella)

Exposed To You

International bestselling author Beth Kery’s sensational
Because You Are Mine
continues, as Francesca and Ian’s sizzling attraction takes their passion to new heights…

Because You Are Mine
, Part Four
Because You Must Learn

From a luxury private jet to a daring tryst in a public museum to the intimacy of a luxury hotel, Ian and Francesca come together wherever the spark is ignited. But when Francesca disappears for a morning alone, she discovers an unexpected new shade to Ian’s character. Is it anger, jealousy, or something else entirely?

Stunned by the degree of Ian’s reaction, Francesca wonders why his whole life is ruled by discipline, order, and restraint. Only during passion does he show her the captivating depths of his soul. She’s willing to submit to desire, but having every move controlled is something she can never accept. Then Francesca begins to discover what it is that makes a man like Ian do the things he does…

Don’t miss
Because I Said So
(Because You Are Mine, Part 5, available 28 August 2012

Chapter Seven

She felt herself melting on the cold marble slab, losing all sense of self, living only to experience the next electrical thrust, the next sensual slide of Ian’s tongue on her sex. She tangled her fingers in his hair, loving the texture. How did human beings manage to live and work and sleep and eat when so much distilled pleasure was available to them?

was the answer to her question. Everyone didn’t have such a talented, glorious lover available to them. For surely Ian’s tongue and mouth must be the most skilled on the planet at giving pleasure . . .

He urged her with his hands, and she leaned farther back on the pedestal, bracing herself with her hands, tilting her pelvis to a more accommodating angle. His low growl of satisfaction vibrating into her flesh was her reward. He spread her thighs even wider, burrowing, seeking. Her cry echoed off the high vaulted ceiling when he plunged his tongue deep into her slit.


He tongue-fucked her, slow and languorous at first, but as the seconds passed, more lustily as her hips began to bob back and forth against him. He groaned, spreading his large hands across her hips, his fingers biting into her buttocks, and held her steady for his consumption. She gasped when he spread his mouth over her entire sex, his tongue lodged deep inside her vagina, and used his upper lip to apply a steady pressure on her clit. He twisted his head sharply, side to side between her thighs, stimulating her precisely. Her eyes sprang wide.

She stared up at the goddess of sex and love, transfixed, as she shuddered in violent orgasm.

* * *

Ian held her to him, his mouth moving with constrained force, his tongue delving, urging every last blast of pleasure out of her sweet, quivering body. When she quieted, he took another moment to lick up the juice of his labor. He’d known she’d be delicious from the taste of her mouth and skin, but he hadn’t been prepared for the sheer decadence of her pussy.

He was full-out drunk on her, and yet he wanted more.

His raging cock had other things in mind, however. He gathered her to him, pressing a damp kiss against the erotic harbor of her taut belly. He stood, wincing at the ache in his cock. Her sublime taste had temporarily sated his lust. It came roaring back as he stared down at her near-naked body sprawled on the pedestal, moonlight shimmering in her dark eyes and glistening on her wet, spread pussy.

He lifted her, liking the way she curled against him. She could be so stubborn at times, willful. It moved him to have her lay her head on his shoulder so trustingly.

It made him want to wholly possess her all the more.

He took her to a low, tufted velvet chaise lounge positioned several feet in front of Aphrodite—a recliner fit for a king, if Ian recalled correctly. Instead of setting her on it, he placed her on her feet. He quickly removed her dress and draped it on the back of a nearby armchair. Next, he removed his jacket. She gave him a puzzled glance when he carefully spread it on the cushion of the chaise.

“Louis XIV once lounged on this piece. Grandmother would strangle me if I ever . . . spilled on it.”

His small smile widened when he heard her low, rich laughter. He put his hands along her jaw and lifted her face for his voracious kiss, eating her mirth hungrily. His cock lurched when she shyly, curiously licked at his lips, tasting herself.

“That’s right. Why shouldn’t you taste something so sweet?” he rasped as he regretfully released her in order to locate a condom. The storm brewing in him was starting to tear at him from the inside out. He couldn’t trust his sanity, couldn’t trust anything if he didn’t get inside Francesca soon . . . very soon. “Lie down on the chaise,” he directed, his voice sounding tight to his own ears.

She reclined on his spread jacket, her legs and belly looking pale in the moonlight and contrasting with the black lining of his jacket. The chaise was armless, long, and wide, with a curved backrest. She lay so that her body was on the flat portion, the top of her head against the back, her calves resting at the end of the piece of furniture. Her loveliness bit at him, making him grind his teeth.

He began to unfasten his pants hastily. He shoved his trousers down his thighs and peeled his boxer briefs down over his erection. He paused while rolling on the condom a moment later when he noticed her huge eyes fixed on his cock.

She was afraid of him.

“It’ll be all right. I’ll go slow,” he assured, whisking the tight rubber down farther over the shaft.

“Let me touch you,” she whispered.

He froze, fisting the base of his cock. It throbbed and twitched in his hand at the unexpected sweetness of her request. He graphically pictured her doing what she requested, the agony of feeling her fingers on him, her lips, her tongue—

“No,” he said more harshly than he intended. Regret lanced through him when he saw her startled expression. “I have to be in you now,” he said more quietly. “I must. I’ve waited so long. Too long.”

She just nodded her head, her large, dark eyes glued to his face. He kicked off his shoes, removed his socks and stepped out of his pants. His shirt was a burden. He unbuttoned it, but he couldn’t keep his gaze off her spread thighs and glistening pussy. He was too crazed to remove the garment all the way. He came down over her, his knees near the bottom corners of the wide chaise, his hands just above her shoulders. He knew he should put his knees between her opened thighs, but something made him spread around her, planting his legs outside of hers, completely encompassing her.

So beautiful . . . and his for the taking.

“Reach for the back of the chaise,” he directed.

She looked confused by his request but followed his direction nonetheless, her acquiescence making his cock throb where it hung between his thighs, heavy . . . burning. When her arms were above her head, gripping the roll of the back of the lounge, he gave a small grunt of satisfaction.

“I would like to restrain you, but since I can’t here, you must keep your arms behind you, do you understand?” he asked tensely.

“I would rather touch you,” she said, the movement of her dark pink lips enthralling him.

“I would much rather you did, as well,” he assured grimly, taking his cock into his hand. “And that is why you will keep them above your head at all costs.”

* * *

She was finding it difficult to take a full breath, lying there, gripping desperately onto the wood rim of the chaise, staring up at the very image of primal male beauty. She wanted to touch Ian so much, but instead stared in rapt fascination as he touched himself. He slid his palm along the thick shaft in preparation to enter her. Her vaginal muscles clenched tight in arousal and anxiety. He looked so large, so heavy, so ripe with his desire.

At the last second, he seemed to reconsider and released his cock. It hung heavily between their bodies. He reached for the silk bra and opened the front clasp. Fresh liquid heat surged at her sex when he peeled the cups back, baring her breasts. She saw his cock twitch in the air.

“Venus,” he said roughly, a small smile quirking his mouth. She waited, her breath held in her lungs, hoping he’d touch the exposed, tingling skin of her breasts and the prickling nipples, but he didn’t. Instead, he grasped his penis again. Pushing one of her knees back to open her farther for him, he pressed the head of his penis against her slit. She bit her lip to stifle a cry. He grunted—whether in arousal or dissatisfaction she couldn’t say—when he flexed his hips and the tip of him slid inside her.

“Ah, Jesus, you’re going to try me,” he muttered.

She saw how rigid his shadowed features were, the flash of his white teeth as he grimaced. Wanting to give him relief more than anything at that moment—wild to give him pleasure—she thrust up with her hips. She yelped at the sudden stab of pain, barely noticing when Ian gave an intimidating growl and slapped the side of her hip in warning.

“Stay still, Francesca. What are you trying to do, kill us both?”

“No, I just . . .”

“Never mind,” he said, and she realized his breath was coming in erratic puffs. “Is it better now?” he asked between pants after a moment.

She realized he was referring to the pain she’d experienced. How had he known it’d been so sharp? It suddenly hit her that his penis was halfway inside her body. Her muscles stretched and thrummed around the throbbing flesh. It felt a little uncomfortable, but the sharp pain had passed.

Ian inside her. Fused to her.

“It doesn’t hurt,” she whispered, awe tingeing her tone.

She saw his throat convulse as he swallowed. He removed his hand from her knee and reached between her thighs.

,” she moaned when he began to press and rub against her clit with his thumb. He seemed to know the precise amount of friction to make her squirm in pleasure. The fullness of his embedded cock providing an upward pressure on her clitoris added another dimension of excitement.

“Stop squirming,” he grated out, his tone a mixture of exasperation, fondness, and arousal near the breaking point. His manipulations were making her burn unbearably. He pressed with his hips. His groan seemed to rip at his throat as his cock drove almost completely into her. Only enough room for his hand between her thighs remained. Pain splintered through a thick, dense sensation of pressure and pleasure as he continued to stroke her.

,” she cried out.

He thrust slightly with his hips, pressing his hand more firmly against her clit, and then bumping against it with his pelvis . . . once . . . twice. She mewled and began to shake in orgasm, her vagina clenching around him. This time, even through the waves of pleasure rushing around her, she knew that his growl was from arousal. She was still coming when he removed his hand from her pussy and braced himself with his arms. He grunted as he withdrew and sunk into her again.

“Ah, God, your
pussy . . .
better than ever I imagined,” he groaned almost incoherently as he stroked her again, long and hard. “The only thing better is going to be having you raw.”

She still whimpered as shudders of climax quaked her body. Ian made her tremble even more as his thrusts grew more demanding, his pelvis began to slap against hers in a demanding rhythm. He paused a moment later, fully embedded in her body, and ground his testicles against her spread outer sex. She cried out in excitement.

“I don’t want to hurt you, but you’ve been driving me mad, Francesca,” he hissed.

“You’re not hurting me.”


She shook her head.

She sensed the tension increase in his body. He began to fuck her again, his hips driving his cock like a fluid, thrusting piston this time. She bit off a scream, but it burned in her throat. She realized he’d been restraining himself before, but he fucked her thoroughly now . . . and not just thoroughly—with a skill that stunned her. His motion was subtle and raw at once, controlled yet wild. It felt as if he beat pleasure into her, stroked her flesh to flesh until she knew she’d burst into flame any moment. She began to bob her hips in a counter-rhythm, small cries popping out of her throat each time they crashed together with a sharp smacking sound of skin and against skin.

“Jesus,” he groaned a moment later, sounding miserable and ecstatic at once. He shifted on the chaise, and drove into her with such force that the top of her head bumped against the back cushion. She dazedly realized he’d spread his legs entirely over the chaise and that his feet were now planted on the floor. He reared over both her and the chaise lounge and thrust, teeth bared in a snarl.

“Ian, let me let go of the chair,” she begged when he crashed into her again and again and she felt another climax looming over her just as Ian did. She longed to touch him so much.

“No,” he said tensely. He pushed off his planted feet and drove into her, grunting when their bodies smacked together. A cracking sound exuded from the chaise, but thankfully the priceless piece of furniture didn’t collapse into a heap of splinters and velvet with them on top of it. Her head bumped against the cushion, her breasts bounced high with each forceful thrust of his large body, the sensation exciting and dizzying her. He lifted a hand and reached between their bodies, opening her labia wide, before he rotated his hips, grinding his balls against her exposed outer sex, circling his engorged cock subtly against her vaginal walls. “Not until you come again, lovely.”

It didn’t really feel as if she had a choice. The pressure he’d built in her was unbearable. A cry of disbelief burbled out of her throat as bliss shook her once again. He gave a savage grunt of satisfaction and began to fuck her faster than before, letting the wildness he contained so carefully overtake him.

She cried out in protest when he withdrew his cock abruptly and pressed his knees onto the chaise, straddling her. His breath sounded ragged and erratic. She stared up at him, her climax waning in his absence, bewildered by his actions. She watched in the light from the dim emergency lighting as he used his hand to pump his cock.


His groan sounded like the depth of agony, the height of bliss as he began to ejaculate. An ache opened up inside her at the sight of him spending himself while separate from her. She lowered her arms slowly, feeling stunned, helpless . . . very aroused at the vision he made.

A moment later, he dropped his hand and hunkered down over her, his muscles bunched tight, gasping for breath. She’d thought he was beautiful as he reared over her, possessing her body and soul, but he was beyond that as he knelt over her, shaking and undone by his desire.

She reached for him, sliding her hands beneath his collar and stroking his powerful shoulder muscles. A shiver went through him at her touch, thrilling her.


“I’m sorry,” he gasped. “I started to worry . . . pregnant.”

“It’s okay, Ian,” she whispered. Compassion filled her at the realization of how starkly anxious he was at the smallest chance that he would have unintentionally impregnated her. She carefully moved back the opened placket of his shirt and held it behind him with one hand. With her other hand at his back, she urged him down to her gently.

BOOK: Because You Are Mine Part IV: Because You Must Learn
11.6Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

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