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Her attempts succeeded in putting the tip of him inside as she arched and moaned with the pleasure of it.
“Bloody hell,” he rumbled, propping on his elbows and moving forward helplessly.
His glorious erection sat deep, filling every single inch of her. No pain occurred, just a passing discomfort. His hands made her legs circle him, and her arms banded him as they clutched tight to one another.
He thrust at last; she followed him, and soon they moved in steamy tandem. How on earth did he want her to pass this? The fire surged anew when he thrust deeper, crushing her swollen clit against his pubic bone, his hardness abrading the whole of her channel. She sobbed at the crescendo of her sensations.
“You are so tight you are clenching me to insanity,” he muttered in her ear.
In between grunts, he stretched one of his arms to thrust harder. She opened more, moved faster, the release nearer. He accelerated, going deeper, crushing her clit more, and she erupted in a blinding conflagration with a loud moan.
He pounded, becoming frantic, erratic until he exited her, held his erection and poured his abundant seed on her navel, arching his back with nothing short of a roar. With a spent exhale, he fell on her.
The room went quiet and still.
Otilia could never tell how long they stayed entangled, sated and drinking in the heat of each other. Her thoughts receded like a low tide as her muscles turned to water from the contact with his unyielding frame, and his stubbled mouth on the curve of her neck. His breath first ragged and then regular spread a sense of peace in her insides, the likes of which she had never experienced in her life.
At last, he lifted his head to look at her in the firelight. Tousled black hair fell on his brows giving him a less stern air, his darkened jaw and even darker eyes filled her view, and she did not shy away from admiring his masculinity. He kissed her eyes, the tip of her pert nose, her chin, the tenderness surprising her.
In agile movements, he left the bed to the washstand where he moistened a cloth and came back to her. In careful strokes, he started cleaning her navel, sliding down to the few drops of blood on her inner thighs. His attention snapped to her. “Did I hurt you?” More syrup than nutmeg, the sound was a balm to her ears.
A faint smile stretched her swollen lips when she shook her hair-mussed head. “Can we do it again?” A mischievous glint coloured her honey orbs.
At this, his eyes blazed as his lips drew in a smile. Her eyes widened on his mouth. If the man was the very definition of handsome when serious, smiling no woman stood a chance. He used to be so brooding and grim the transformation stunned her.
“As much as you want,” he rasped. A flush scalded her with more arousal than embarrassment. He stretched his hand to his nightstand. “But this time I hope you give me the chance to use this.” Picking an envelope shaped parcel, he opened it and took out a strange contraption with a ribbon on the top of it. “French letters,” he clarified at her curious stance. “To prevent my seed from getting you with child.”
Slow after that bout of sensuality, she made him lay on the sheets, and took the cloth from him. “How smart,” came her answer, as she cleaned him, too. Tiring of the cloth, she lay it aside to explore him with her hands. Her palms rested on his bunched shoulders and glided down to his thick neck and muscled chest, to tease his dusky nipples.
A sound came from him before her stare met his. “You are playing with fire, woman,” he drawled. She did not give up though. Her caresses travelled down his tight abdomen to the nest of curls where his arousal awakened. Shamelessly, she explored its entire extension. Jet eyes closed as his breath caught. She lowered her lips to the expanse of his torso, eager to taste the taut softness of him. Her mouth closed on his nipple, suckling on it as he had done to her, fingers teasing the other one. A strong hand came to her head. Her lips grazed lower, following where her hands had been. More sounds came from him.
“Did I do something wrong?”
Sooty eyelids at half-mast, he displayed a tormented look on his rugged face. “Siren, the problem is that you are doing everything right.”
She made to go lower to his…
In a swift movement, he sat up and leaned on the headboard. She sat on her heels as she observed him putting on the so-called French letter. He extended his hand to her. “Come straddle me,” he instructed, and she understood at once what he wanted. Strong hands clasped her waist and positioned her over him. He made her grind down on him as he filled her channel to the last inch.
Mussed long hair fell back, and she emitted a moan with the pleasure. Her hips moved a few times adjusting to the best angle. That gave him the opportunity to glue his mouth to her breast and suckle on it, taking her to mindless delectation. But he did not relent. One of his hands reached between them to her core, where her sensations concentrated, and stroked it. He elevated his head to graze his stubble on her throat.
“You can do this on your own when I am not around.” The mutter caused her to look at him with a rueful smile. “What is it?” he asked at the sight of her expression.
His arrogance held no limits even though it made her hotter for him. “I did not know you were the only masculine specimen in the world,” she said. That he thought he was the only male available to her was appalling.
Her words made his features crumple to a scowl, his jet eyes grim. His iron arm banded her waist, and in a second, he had her on her back, his unforgiving body pressing on hers. “I am the only man who will ever take you.” The growl came final and primitive. “Do you understand?”
He moved de
ep inside her and the bout of sensation was so intense it scattered her clear thoughts, and she kept the mere ability to moan. Her arms and legs clutched him as he threw her in the throes of passion.
“Do you understand?” he asked harder as he moved deeper.
For him to give her that bottomless ecstasy again she would say anything. “Yes,” she breathed, her pelvis seeking him. His tone and his thrusts took her to the extremes of lust. He lunged faster and she met him with more eagerness, in a crescendo of heat that shook her in the end with a loud moan forming his name.
Losing rhythm, he pounded inside her mercilessly, before he froze, his eyes piercing hers. She felt him undulate inside and knew he was pouring all his culmination in her.
They fell asleep in a tangle of arms and legs.
