“Callie,” he whispered, his breath hot against her skin, his teeth nipping again. “Say it. Tell me what you want.”
“I want you to make love to me,” she managed.
He withdrew his fingers and rolled her onto her back. In an instant, the bedclothes were gone, and he had settled himself between her thighs. His rod was thick and stiff and huge. She reached for him, wanting to touch him. Just one pass of her fingertips over the rigid length. He was warm, his heat searing her. Surprisingly smooth, soft as velvet.
A groan sounded from deep in his chest, and she released him, wondering if she had done something wrong in her neophyte enthusiasm. “Forgive me,” she hastened to say. “Did I hurt you?”
“Hell no,” he reassured her, taking her hand in his and bringing it back to his length. “I love your hand on my cock. Touch me again, sweet. Touch me all you like.”
He wrapped her fingers around him, showing her how to stroke and bring him pleasure. Touching him like this sent a pang of pure, unadulterated need to her core. She loved the sense of power she felt—knowing he enjoyed what she was doing. Watching the way his dark gaze traveled over her, devouring her.
She realized then that she was still wearing her night rail, bunched up around her waist, whilst he was completely nude. The sight of him between her bare, parted thighs, his body naked and so blatantly masculine and ready to claim her, made her heart pound. She ran her thumb over the head of him, catching a bead of moisture leaking from the tip.
The urge to taste him as he had done to her—wild, wicked, shocking—could not be contained. Holding his gaze, she brought her thumb to her lips and sucked. He tasted salty and earthy.
“Damn it, Callie,” he growled, grabbing his stiff cock once more before guiding himself to her entrance.
They were perfectly aligned. She ran her tongue over the pad of her thumb, making sure she got every drop of him. He hooked her legs around his waist and plunged forward, sheathing himself inside her in one powerful thrust.
This time, there was no pain. There was only the glorious sensation of being filled. Her body had never felt more alive. All the breath fled her lungs. She reached for him, pulling him down upon her, wanting to be as close to him as she could possibly get. Wanting to merge with him, to become a part of him.
His mouth slammed down on hers. She held him tight, banishing every other thought, fear, worry, concern—everything—from her mind except him. Her husband.
Sin.
He moved then, withdrawing almost completely from her body before sliding back inside, deep, so deep. She kissed him back with all the fury of the pent-up emotion and desire rioting within her. His tongue was in her mouth. Her hands found the hard planes of his shoulders, her nails scoring over his heated flesh. He surrounded her, filled her, consumed her.
And she wanted it. Wanted everything he had to give her, all the decadent sensation, the awakening of her body. Everything was Sin—his scent, his taste, the heavy weight of him atop her, his cock gliding inside her passage, his dark gaze boring into hers as he claimed her. She could not look away. Could not blink.
Again and again, he sank inside her. The feeling of him was exquisite. She clenched on him, dragging him deep. Her body bowed from the bed. She could not get enough.
Sin’s lips tore from hers as he broke the kiss, his breathing harsh and ragged. Bracing himself on one arm, he stilled in his claiming long enough to grasp the neck of her night rail and tear it in two. Buttons popped off. The sound of the fabric rending echoed in the early morning silence, blending with their desperate breaths and her wildly beating heart.
“My night rail,” she managed to protest.
“It was in the bloody way,” he said, his glittering eyes boring into hers.
And then he lowered his head, kissing the peak of her breast. He sucked a nipple into his mouth, moving at a faster pace. The combination of his hot mouth drawing on her breast and his cock ramming in and out of her body was electric. Too much. Her hands sank into his hair, grasping handfuls. His hair was thick and luxurious. Her every sense was heightened to the point of painful pleasure.