Perhaps she didn't know what he had in mind?
He'd prepared himself for the possibility that she'd stiffen up the moment his mouth moved below her stomach and ask him what he was doing, or that she would let him continue out of bravery and stubbornness and not because she was enjoying it.
None of that was happening.
She was responding to him. Her hands were threaded into his hair. Her hips were lifting off the bed in small, uncontrolled movements that she probably wasn't even aware of making.
When he reached the final destination on his downward trek and put his mouth on her, she uttered the most surprised little sound, and he paused to check if it was distress, but she tightened her grip on his hair.
"Don't you dare stop," she whispered.
He kept going with renewed gusto, licking and sucking and kissing, and she was loving it.
He was discovering that he'd underestimated his bride.
He loved her so much, and he'd thought that he'd had her figured out, but he'd been wrong. Tonight, she was teaching him that she'd been hiding a part of herself that had been waiting for permission to come out, and somewhere between the bathtub and the bed she'd given it that permission.
Now she was here, with her dark hair fanned across the pillow and her body responding to his mouth, and he, who had been so worried about overwhelming her, was overwhelmed by his bride's response.
The problem was that the hard part was still ahead of them, and he dreaded the inevitable pain that he would have to cause her.
He could bite her now and spare her the pain. The venom would flood her system with aphrodisiac and euphoria, and she'd feel only pleasure and none of the pain, save for the split second of the fangs first breaking her skin. That would sting a little, but after that, it would be the best trip of her life.
But he wasn't going to do it.
She would never forgive him if he robbed her of this experience because he feared causing her pain.
The bite would come at the end as it should.
But that didn't mean he couldn't prepare her. He would give her every advantage his immortal body could give without resorting to his fangs. His saliva carried a small amount of the venom's properties, enough to soften the edge of what was coming without taking the experience away from her.
He brought her up slowly, taking his time and paying attention to every adjustment of her hips, every change in her breathing, everywhere she pressed up against his mouth, and every place where she pulled back. He worked one finger into her, carefully, and she gasped, and he held still until she relaxed around him. He added a second.
She was so tight that he had a fleeting thought about whether this was actually going to be possible without the venom bite.
He pushed the thought away.
He was going to make it not only possible but pleasurable.
He'd prepare her, and her body would adjust to him because that was what female bodies were designed to do. He just had to keep being patient and go slow.
He found the place inside her that he knew would catapult her higher and pressed there gently.
Arezoo's whole body went tight. "Ruvon."
"Mm-hm."
"I—I don't?—"
"Just let it happen, my love."
He flicked his tongue over her at the same time he pressed inside her, and the pressure he felt in her body told him she was close. He kept the rhythm, and her hands had tightened in his hair to the point of pulling, but he didn't mind. She could pull it all out for all he cared.
He didn't slow down.
Arezoo arched off the bed and threw her head back, making a sound that Ruvon had never heard her make and that he would remember for the rest of his life. Her body clenched around his fingers in long pulses, and he kept her there for as long as he could, his mouth gentling its pressure as the contractions slowed, until she was lying flat on the bed again and breathing in long uneven gasps.
He moved up her body slowly, kissing as he went.
