shivered in response, as he moved it down, between her legs, his fingers slipping through the curls, into the wetness, and he closed his eyes, smiling. “Oh, my precious, you most definitely are ready. I had so many other things in mind, but I’m afraid I’m simply going to have to take you now. I’ll have to lick you another time.”
“But you did. My breasts.”
“Not there,” he said, brushing against her hard nipples. “Here.” And his fingers slid inside her.
She arched up in shock, crying out. He stroked her, slowly, spreading the wetness around, and then he moved between her legs, and she tensed, knowing what was coming, knowing it was going to be miserable.
The touch of him against her silenced her, stilled her. She was trembling, trying to hide it, but lying naked beneath a man made subterfuge almost impossible. “I’ll stop if it hurts you,” he said, pushing against her. “We’ll go slow. Just tell me how it feels.”
She trusted him. She’d forgotten that salient point—she trusted him. She nodded, unable to speak, bracing herself, and his smile was so sweet it almost shattered her. “No, my love. This isn’t a torture chamber. Relax.”
“I c-c-can’t,” she stammered, shivering despite the warm of the air.
“I’ll help.” And leaning forward, he bit the top of her breast, just hard enough to shock her into loosening her muscles. At that he pushed into her, so hard, so big, and she should tell him to stop, tell him that it hurt.
And it did hurt. Just a little bit. So little that the pain was almost a kind of pleasure, and she shifted, lifting her hips, needing more of him.
“Am I hurting you?” His mouth was against her ear.
“More,” she said, her voice ragged. “Please. More.”
He held himself still for a moment, and then he pushed, slid deep, filling her, and she cried out, arching against him, taking him.
He began to thrust, slowly at first, watching her, and she knew he was afraid of hurting her. She wanted to scream at him, to demand, to beg. Did she want him to leave her body? Did she want him to slam into her? She needed something, so desperately, and she didn’t know how to reach it.
His hands cupped her hips, angling them. He continued to thrust, ignoring her efforts to speed him, slow and hard and deep, each push one more claim on her body, and she felt the darkness began to bubble beneath her skin, felt the need blossom and grow and spread through her body, reaching every inch of her skin, tiny pinpricks of reaction. It wasn’t too late, she thought desperately. She could make him stop. She didn’t have to go to this terrifying place he was taking her, where nothing existed but the man inside her, their bodies joined, sweating, slapping together. There was no escape, she didn’t want to escape, but she kept fighting, pushing it away.
“Stop it, Melisande,” he growled in her ear. “Take it. Claim it.”
“No,” she sobbed.
“Take it,” he said again, hard inside her, slamming into her so that the bed shook and her body trembled and she knew she would break apart, and she couldn’t stop, couldn’t stop shaking, couldn’t stop crying, couldn’t stop…
She froze, as an endless, keening delight stiffened her body and tore away the last of her defenses. She felt him cry out, spill inside her, and she welcomed it all, the wet heat of his seed, the shaking of his body, the crazy-mad delight that caught her in its grip, so tightly she thought she would never unravel.
And then it loosened its hold, and she fell back on the bed, panting, weeping, taken and destroyed. He collapsed on top of her, his chest heaving, and she could still feel him inside her; she still shivered around him in her fading response.
He released her then, rolling to his side, and she was suddenly so cold. Covered in ice, she thought dizzily, knowing she had to get away. She’d been wrong, he’d been right. This was a terrible idea. Because she’d needed him too much, and the having, and the letting go, were too painful.
She wondered if her legs would support her if she tried to get out of bed. Men fell asleep afterward, didn’t they? How long could she safely wait?
And then, to her surprise, he pulled her into his arms, tucking her close against him. “You’re not going anywhere,” he said sleepily. “We’ve only just begun.”