He had no idea he could be tender. He was a rough man, especially when it came to sex, but for her, there was tenderness. She was slick and hot, and so tight that when he pushed into her folds slowly, filling her, he didn’t think he could make his way into that snug tunnel. She gasped, her lashes suddenly lifting in alarm, eyes staring straight into his, her fingernails biting deep into his shoulders. She shook her head at him, fear creeping into the gold of her gaze.
“What is it, baby?” he murmured, one hand stroking her mound, her inner thighs, circling her clit, feeling her body shudder as her pussy swallowed another inch of him. “Look at you taking me.” It was an erotic sight, seeing himself disappear into her body. “Look at us, Flambé.”
Her gaze slid from his face to their joined bodies. Her feminine form was flushed, covered in his rope marks, in strawberries where he’d left his personal marks behind, on her breasts, her thighs, one on her neck, but low so it wouldn’t show when she wore a shirt. She had a business and she was the boss.
He dipped his head and kissed her throat. The action sent his cock sliding another inch into her. She shuddered. Her sheath, scorching hot, tightened like a vise around him. His breath hissed out. He stopped moving and watched her face. That beautiful face while she squirmed and did her best to try to impale herself on him.
“We’re doing slow and easy, Flambé.”
She shook her head, looking as if she might fling herself off the bed and run.
He began to move again, because it was impossible not to. He needed to bury himself all the way, to feel her body surrounding his. It was easy to drown in her eyes. She didn’t want to look at him like this; he could see her trying to escape their connection. It was too deep. Too visceral. She shook her head again. “Faster. Harder. Not like this.”
“Just like this, Flambé. It’s good, baby. You know it is.” He whispered the truth to her, and it came out like a sin between them instead of the growing love he was trying to convey.
He detested that he wasn’t good at romance, at telling his woman what he wanted her to know. He could do it with his ropes, but she didn’t hear him. He was trying with his body, but she didn’t want it. Verbally, he couldn’t get the words out that would reassure her, because in the world he grew up in, those words were a death sentence. He had to try to reach her someway and she only let him close through sex or ropes.
He did a slow surge forward with his hips, forcing her tight petals to give way and open for him. This time he didn’t stop but, all while holding her gaze to his, buried his cock deep in her. The burn turned to flames licking hot and wild over and around him, feeling as if the fire was consuming him in a new and different way. That shocked him. Judging by her expression, the feeling shocked her as well.
They were both used to hot and wild. Fast and furious. Slow and easy was so different, but equally as good, very moving. So much so that terror had crept into her eyes. He tried to reassure her, but a part of him was feeling that same fear. She had taken him over when he wasn’t looking. When he’d been so busy binding her to him. Wanting his own woman for all the wrong reasons and realizing, when he had her, what the right reasons were.
He moved in her, sharing her body, her haven, in intimacy unlike he’d ever experienced in his life with another being. The fire built and built like a slow-moving storm, flames licking all over his skin, all over hers, touching and receding and then coming back again, leaving them both breathless.
“Sevastyan.” She whispered his name.
He heard a note in her voice that had never been there before. She didn’t want to admit true feelings to him. To herself. But they were there.
He kept moving, building the heat between them, that slow, easy build that was anything but easy. The fire began to roar. Became a storm of emotion. Her body clamped down on his without warning, a scorching-hot grip, a blaze of fire so hot his cock jerked and pulsed, erupting in a