Page 48 of The Earl’s Forbidden Temptation

Oh God. A sharp heat pierced low in her belly. Darcy began to lower herself, and the sensation was overwhelming—the blunt head of his cock pressing against her entrance, the slow, inexorable stretch of her virgin flesh accommodating his thickness. The burn was immediate and sharp, a searing pain that made her gasp and freeze, her nails digging into his shoulders.

“It hurts,” she whimpered, her voice tight with strain. “I do not think we can fit.”

His hand delved between them, his thumb pressing against the sensitive pearl nestled at the apex of her folds. He circled it slowly, deliberately, the pad of his thumb slick with her own arousal.

“Your sweet cunt is so wet for me, Red. So ready. It was made to be stretched. Made to take all of me,” he murmured. “We’ll fit. We can also stop and try another time. Tell me what you want, Red.”

Darcy breathed through the sharp ache, then whispered, “I want us to fit. I want you so much.”

He continued the slow circles of his thumb on her clitoris, the friction sending waves of pleasure through her and dulling the sharp edges of the pain. She felt herself relax around him, her body yielding to the intrusion as the pleasure began to outweigh the ache. She sank lower, another inch of him sliding inside her, the stretch exquisite and agonizing all at once.

“That’s it,” he groaned, his head falling back against the stone bench, his eyes squeezed shut. “God, you are so tight.”

“Is that bad?”

“No. It is fucking perfect. Ease down only when you are ready. Let your sweet pussy open around me.”

Darcy flushed with heat. She lowered herself further, the burning sensation giving way to a strange, full ache that was not entirely unpleasant. Her inner walls clenched around him, struggling to accommodate his girth, and she cried out as another inch slid home.

“Please,” she gasped, her hips trembling above him. “It is so much…”

He watched her with such unguarded hunger that her heart tightened. His thumb pressed harder against her clitoris, circling faster, and the pleasure spiked, sharp and blinding. Her hips jerked involuntarily, and she sank another inch as a broken moan escaped her lips.

“Look at you,” he growled, his eyes dark and lustful. “Taking my cock like you were born for it. I wish I could have you painted like this. You are so beautiful like this, Red. So fucking beautiful.”

“You cannot see me behind the mask,” she whispered, a tremor slipping into her voice as a desperate, unbidden longing took hold that he might see her face and know her.

Darcy sank lower, the pain and pleasure twisting together into something unbearable and exquisite. When she was finally seated fully upon him, his cock buried inside her to the hilt, she paused, her breath coming in ragged gasps. The feeling was overwhelming—the full, stretching ache of him inside her, the throb of her clitoris beneath his thumb, the raw, carnal intimacy of their joining.

A muscle worked in his jaw, the strain of restraint stark upon his face. His free hand gripped her hip, his fingers digging into her flesh.

“Now,” he said, his voice strained with the effort of restraint. “Move, Red. Ride me. Fuck yourself on my cock. However it feels right. Take your pleasure and do not worry about mine.”

She began to move, a tentative roll of her hips, and the sensation sent sparks of pleasure and pain spiraling through her. His thumb never left her clitoris, circling and pressing with expert precision, guiding her through the discomfort until all she could feel was the building heat, the mounting pleasure.

“A little faster, and harder if you wish,” he said, his hips lifting to meet her. “I want to feel you come undone around me. I want to feel your cunt clench as you take your pleasure from my cock.”

Darcy obeyed, driven by instinct and the relentless heat of his thumb. The burn of her first time faded into a deep, aching fullness that sent pleasure through her with every downward stroke. She found a rhythm, gliding up and sinking hard, while his hands guided the slow, deep roll of her hips. The friction of his cock inside her, the angle at which he filled her, and the unerring circles of his thumb upon her clitoris became at once too much and not enough.

“Sebastian,” she whimpered as the heat gathered low in her belly. Her fingers tightened upon his shoulders, and she moved faster, surrendering to instinct and desire as her head fell back and her hair slipped free of its pins, tumbling in a cascade down her back.

He watched her with dark, hungry eyes, his hands gripping her hips, urging her on. The sound of their bodies joining, the wet, rhythmic slap of skin against skin, filled the garden alcove, wet, rhythmic, and unmistakably carnal.

“That’s it,” he groaned, his voice strained. “Take your pleasure. Take all of my cock.”

Pleasure seemed to occupy every part of Darcy. She felt the pressure gathering deep within her, winding tighter with every downward stroke, every intimate drag of his cock against flesh made exquisitely sensitive by pleasure. A fine sheen of perspiration warmed her skin, a bead of it slipping slowly between her shoulder blades as Sebastian guided her movements with strong hands upon her hips. There was something devastating in the contrast of him. He slowly rocked her up and down on his cock with a fierce, almost ravaging hunger, yet his mouth treated her with startling tenderness, intermittently kissing the exposed flesh of her throat before brushing softer kisses across her cheek, the corner of her mouth, her parted lips.

She was lost in every contradiction of him, in the strength of his hands and the gentleness of his mouth, in the fullness of him inside her and the taut desire stamped across his face whenever she dared look at him. Each time he lowered her upon his cock, sensation tore through her anew, until she could no longer distinguish where pleasure ended, and Sebastian began.

Then the tension broke.

“Sebastian!”

His name left her upon a fractured cry as her climax seized her, her body clenching around him in deep, helpless pulses. Darcy trembled above him, scarcely able to breathe through the force of it, while Sebastian held her against him and let her surrender completely to the pleasure he had drawn from her.

He followed moments later, spilling deep inside her, a hoarse groan torn from his throat. Sebastian held her tight against him as he pulsed within her, his face buried in the curve of her neck, his breath hot and ragged against her skin.

Darcy could not make sense of the emotions pulsing through her. She felt as though she might laugh and weep in the same breath, almost frightened by the tenderness swelling within her, by the sense that if she surrendered to it fully, something deep inside her might simply break apart. They stayed like that for a long moment, tangled together in the moonlight, the scent of jasmine and sex thick around them. Finally, he lifted his head and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to her lips.