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She sounded breathless, rough. Needy. And there was some other quality to her voice that Cruz didn’t want to investigate. Something like uncertainty.
‘I need to taste you, querida.’
Her eyes widened. ‘Taste me...? You mean like...?’
Cruz touched her with his finger, sliding it between soft silken folds. She gasped and tried to put her hand down, but he caught it and stopped her. He explored the hot damp seam of her body, pressing into the fevered channel of her body and exerting pressure against her clitoris.
He took his finger away, even though he wanted to thrust it all the way inside, and brought it to his mouth, taking the wet tip into his mouth. His eyes closed...his erection jumped. For the first time since he was a teenager Cruz was afraid he’d spill before he even got inside her.
The taste of her musky heat on his tongue...
He opened his eyes and she was looking at him, shocked. Two spots of red in her cheeks. A thought drifted across the heat haze in his brain... Why was she looking so shocked? Surely she’d...? But he batted the thought away, not wanting images of what she’d done with previous lovers—his brother—to intrude.
There would only be one lover now. Him. She was here and she was his.
He said in a rough voice, ‘I need to taste you...like that.’
She said nothing. He saw her bite her lip. She looked feverish, and then she gave an almost imperceptible nod. Cruz pushed her legs apart, exposing the blonde curls covering her slick pink folds...slick for him.
There was none of his usual finesse when he touched her. He licked her, sucked and tasted, until he was dizzy and drunk. He thrust two fingers inside her heat, moving them in and out. He felt her hips jerk, her back arch. Heard soft moans and gasps, felt hands in his hair.
Her thighs drew up beside his head and her whole body tensed like a taut bow, just seconds before powerful muscles clamped down tight on his fingers and her body shuddered against his mouth.
She was his.
CHAPTER EIGHT
TRINITY WAS BARELY CONSCIOUS, floating on an ocean of such satisfaction that she wondered if she might be dead. Surely this wasn’t even possible? This much pleasure? For her body to feel so weighted down and yet light as a feather? She could feel the minor contractions of her deepest muscles, still pulsing like little quivering heartbeats...
She finally came back to some level of consciousness when she felt a soft surface under her back and opened her eyes. She was on a bed, and Cruz was standing before her, pulling off his shirt and putting his hands on his trousers, undoing them, taking them down.
She saw the way his erection tented his underwear, and watched with avid fascination as he pulled that off too, exposing the thick stiff column of flesh, moisture beading at the tip.
‘If you keep looking at me like that—’ He broke off with a curse and bent down, hands on the sides of her dress, tugging it free of her body.
Trinity was naked now, and yet she felt no sense of self-consciousness. She was so wrapped in lingering pleasure and so caught up in this bubble of sensuality that she ignored the persistent but faint knocking of something trying to get through to her...
Cruz reached beside the bed for a condom and rolled it onto his erection, the latex stretched taut. Incredibly, as he came down onto the bed and moved over her, she felt her flesh quiver back to life. Her pulse picked up again and she no longer felt like floating...she wanted to fly again.
Cruz’s hips pushed her legs apart and he took himself in his own hand, touching the head of his sex against hers, teasing her by pushing it in slightly before drawing it out again, her juices making them both slick. She felt as if she should be embarrassed, but she wasn’t.
Between her legs she could feel her flesh aching for Cruz, aching for more than his mouth and tongue and fingers...aching for more.
She arched up. ‘Please, Cruz...’
Was that ragged voice hers? She didn’t have time to wonder, because with one feral growl and a sinuous move of his lean hips he thrust deep inside her. His whole body went taut over hers, and the expression on his face was one of pure masculine appreciation.
But Trinity wasn’t seeing that. It had taken only a second for the intense need and pleasure to transform into blinding hot pain. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t make sense of what she was feeling, when seconds ago she’d craved for him to do exactly this...
‘Dios, Trin
ity...’ he breathed. ‘You’re so tight...’
Cruz started to pull back, and Trinity’s muscles protested. She put her hands on his hips and said, as panic mounted through her body along with the pain, ‘Get off me! I can’t...breathe...’
Cruz stopped moving instantly, shock in his voice. ‘I’m hurting you?’
Her eyes were stinging now, as she sobbed while trying to push him off, ‘Yes, it hurts!’
