Page 189 of A Very Bellamy Christmas

She bit her lip at his crude words, but her hips lifted to take him deeper, pain creasing her eyes.

“Fast or slow?” he asked in a strained voice.

She swallowed. “Fast.”

Andrew gritted his teeth and sank into her until he could go no deeper. He thought he felt some barrier give way, although he strongly suspected that was only his imagination.

She was breathing harshly.

Andrew kissed her, his hips not moving. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

“I know,” she said. Her hands, which had been limp at her sides, slid over his back. And then lower.

Andrew raised his eyebrows when they froze.

“May I touch—”

“Anywhere,” he said emphatically. “You may touch me anywhere. In fact, it is mandatory.” He smiled so that she knew he was speaking in jest. Well, mostly.

Her small, cool hands slid south until one rested on each buttock.

“Oh,” she said, catching her lip with her teeth before squeezing him so lightly he might have thought he’d imagined it if not for her shy smile.

He withdrew while she was distracted.

Her brow creased and her hands stilled.

“Am I hurting you?” he asked.

“It—it doesn’t hurt, but it’s…”

“Yes?”

“It feels bigger than I thought.”

“Flatterer,” he teased. “I would say that you are too tight, but…” He kissed the tip of her nose. “I would be lying.”

When the tension drained from her face Andrew sank back in, filling her all the way.

The lines on her forehead smoothed and she met his gaze. “It doesn’t hurt this time.”

“Good. Because I’m going to do it again.” He matched deed to word. “And again.”

Andrew worked her slowly but deeply, giving her every inch with each stroke, watching her closely for signs of discomfort. But when her hands began to move on his arse—squeezing and cupping him like a pair of cabbages she was contemplating buying—he transferred his weight to one arm, slid a hand between their sweaty bodies as he sped up his thrusts.

She squirmed, her fingers digging into his buttocks as his hips drummed harder and harder.

She exploded just as he lost control and gave in to his need, his last few thrusts wild and savage before he thrust deep and flooded her with his seed.

“Stacia,” he muttered as his hips jerked, her tight body squeezing his cock with the echoes of her orgasm, milking him until he had nothing left.

***

Yes. It had hurt.

But what her brief, embarrassingly frank conversation with Lady Needham had not prepared Stacia for was the emotional impact of such a raw, physical joining. Never would she have expected the sensation of completenessshe felt.

Andrew was inside her.