He scooped her up as he’d done before, but this time he followed her down, the mattress sinking under his weight.
His mouth was on her throat, his teeth skimming the fragile skin in tiny nipping kisses, his tongue teasing her as he trailed kisses down to take her nipple between his lips. She gasped as he suckled her, and she threaded her fingers through the black silk of his hair, holding him to her breast. One long leg curved over her thighs and he half covered her with his body.
She shifted, restless, eager as he smoothed his hand past her waist, along her hip, down her thigh. He circled his fingertips against the intimate place behind her knee, then gently eased her legs apart, and charted a path upward, to the soft down, and the place that felt slick and swollen.
When he found the pearl at the top of her sex, stirring it with the tender-rough pads of his fingers, she gave a little cry, the sensation almost too intense to be pleasure, and yet, it was.
“Oh…oh, my…that feels…”
“It can be even better, if you’ll let me…”
“Yes…”Anything…everything…
“Open for me, Grace. I need to taste you.”
She thought she’d known what to expect. But this? Lucien settling his big body between her legs. The slow, hot journey of his mouth downward, the dark silk of his hair brushing her belly, his broad shoulders spreading her wider, all of that heat and strength pressing against her inner thighs.
He threaded his fingers through the soft tuft, his fingers opening the petals of her sex. Dear God, what was he doing? He stared at her most secret places, his breath teasing the sensitized flesh. He smiled, a tiger’s smile, his gaze blazing with a heat so intense it thrilled her, frightened her. She stiffened, clutching handfuls of the sheets to anchor herself in a world tilting off its axis. Something altered in Lucien’s face, and he kissed the downy mound, then drew away. She made a soft sound, needing him to fill an aching emptiness, and he slipped his finger inside her. Grace arched her back, deepening the sensual invasion. His thumb circled the sensitive nub his breath had warmed moments ago.
Tension built, and she strained toward it, lost in waves of pleasure as he slid a second finger into her sheath, thrusting and withdrawing, stretching and opening her. He found a place inside her, deep, that she hadn’t even known existed, and shecried out, and he renewed his efforts, his thumb circling, teasing, taunting the nub at the top of her sex, driving her higher on the crest of something she could not name.
She lifted her hips, desperate to get closer, the sensation building until she gasped his name, the pleasure breaking over her in huge waves. He pulled away, and she moaned in protest, but he was atop her, his shaft hard against the slickness. He reached between them, guiding his blunt tip to her entrance, then braced himself on his elbows above her. He pushed into her, just an inch, then paused, sweat beading his brow.
“There will be pain.”
“I know.” She slid her hands down his back, urging him deeper.
He shifted his hips forward, shallow thrusts, then deeper, filling her inch by inch. She felt the tearing, the sting.
One last thrust and he was buried deep. “Are you…well?”
She nodded, not able to put into words the feelings rioting inside her. Pain, yes, but far more pleasure.
“You feel…so tight…so perfect…Wrap your legs around me.” She did so, twining her legs around his narrow hips, lifting herself against him. Her arms drew him even closer, and he kissed her, as he began to move. He was trying to be gentle.
She could feel what it cost him to keep his desire tightly leashed, sweat glossing his skin. “Lucien…I want…I need…more…”
He drew back, just far enough for her to see the taut planes and angles of his face. “More?”
“More of this…more of you…just…more…”
He cursed low, kissing her fiercely, then set himself into a rhythm, driving deep, all but withdrawing, then driving deep again. She clutched him, grasped the hard curves of his buttocks, arching closer and closer, urging him with her hands, her body, her soft cries.
When she could bear no more, she pressed her teeth to his neck and Lucien gave a groan of surrender, his own body like iron against hers as he grasped for his own pleasure.
He reached between them, circling the sensitive bud with his thumb, and she felt a new crest rising, one far more overwhelming than the first. “Come for me, Grace. I can’t wait any longer…”
The climax burst over her, and she sobbed in completion, felt him drive deep, pulse inside her. He arched his head back. A raw, animal sound tore from his throat, his body shuddering in release. When the last tremor of pleasure fell still, he collapsed atop her, his breath rasping, his body slick with sweat. He buried his face in her neck, and she could feel the hammering of his heart against her breasts. After a moment, he rolled off of her, both of them laying on their backs, their breath still rasping. She felt the loss of him, his weight, his warmth, the emptiness and ache where he had been inside her. She wanted him to gather her against him, wanted him to hold her, but the space between them seemed to fill with a distance she could not name.
“There,” he said, pulling the coverlet over her. “It is done.”
“Done?” She stiffened, hurt.
He was ruining it. The excitement, the passion, the breathtaking pleasure she’d found in his body and her own.
“Next time there will be no pain.”
She wanted to believe that was what he meant, but there was a tightness in his voice that made her wonder if there was more he was not saying.
