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Sylvie shook her head, feeling breathless because of what was happening between her legs. ‘No...you’re beautiful.’
But he didn’t seem to be listening. He was transfixed by her breasts, cupping one now, so that the hard point pouted upwards wantonly. He lowered his head and blew gently on it, making her tingle and ache for more, and then his mouth was on her, and that wicked tongue, flicking and sucking on the turgid flesh.
Her hands were in his hair, fingers funnelling deep, holding him to her. Her back was arched and she was fast losing any sense of reason. Or maybe she’d lost it when she’d laid eyes on this man for the first time. Anyway, it was gone.
He lavished attention on both breasts until they ached and felt swollen, and then his mouth was moving down...over her belly and lower. Sylvie only realised her hands were still on his head when he reached up to take them away. Taking both her hands in one of his, he held them captive over her belly.
Now she really was at his mercy. He moved lower, the bulk of his body forcing her legs apart.
Sylvie lifted her head and looked down. ‘Arkim...’ Her voice sounded rough, broken. Taut with need.
He looked up at her and said, ‘Shh...’
Sylvie’s head was too heavy. She let it fall back just as he released her hands, and then both of his hands were on her buttocks, lifting her to his mouth, where his tongue explored the damp folds of her sex, laying her so open she c
ouldn’t bear it.
She had to bite down on a fist when she felt his tongue surge deep inside her, and then his teeth were nipping... The tension was coiling so tightly now she thought she might have to scream to release the pressure, and he was relentless.
Sylvie was vaguely aware of bucking towards him mindlessly—and then he reached up and squeezed her breast, and she exploded into a million tiny pieces of pleasure so intense that she couldn’t breathe or see.
She’d orgasmed before—you couldn’t work in her industry and remain completely unaware of taking pleasure—but it had always been by her own hand, and never this...mind-blowing. She’d actually thought it was overrated. Evidently she’d been doing it all wrong, she thought dreamily as her body floated back to earth slowly, lusciously.
She was aware of him moving aside momentarily, with an intense focus in his movements, and then he was back, coming over her and leaning on both arms, the muscles bunched and taut.
Sylvie felt him lodge himself between her legs, and then the potent thrust of his erection against the sensitised folds of her sex. For a moment she thought it might be too soon, that she couldn’t possibly— But then he hitched himself against her, the head of his erection sliding tantalisingly between those folds, and her whole body quivered with anticipation.
Instinctively she put her hands on Arkim’s arms, as if to hold on for the ride, and her legs opened wider in tacit acceptance.
* * *
Sylvie’s eyes were huge, staring up at him as if he knew all the secrets of the universe. Arkim didn’t know how he hadn’t already spilled onto the sheets, like the virginal teenager he’d been all those years ago, when he’d felt her body convulse in spasms of pleasure. But somehow he hadn’t...and now he was on the very edge of his control as he felt her body accept his.
He started to sink into her tight, silken hot sheath.
Her very hot and very tight sheath.
In fact as Arkim’s body sought to go deeper he realised that Sylvie’s body was tight against him in a way he’d never encountered before...
His brain was overheating, his body screaming for a release of the tension, and those huge limpid eyes were still staring up at him. The hard tips of her breasts scraping against his chest.
Arkim was about to lose it...the heady scent of musk and sex urged him on. He gritted his jaw and thrust hard—and went nowhere.
He heard Sylvie’s swift, sharp intake of breath and looked down. His brain was feeling too hot, too fuzzy to try and figure out what was wrong. But something was wrong. Very wrong.
Moments ago Sylvie had been flushed with pleasure. Now she looked pale and clammy. Shocked. She was biting her lip and her eyes shone with...tears?
Arkim’s insides seemed to drop from a height. But even as suspicion crept in he fought the knowledge... She was just small—that was it. A lot smaller than he’d realised she was.
He clenched his buttocks, trying to forge a passage, and Sylvie’s hands gripped his like steel clamps, her nails digging into his muscles.
‘Stop—please! It hurts.’
And the truth resounded in Arkim’s head like a klaxon going off. Virgin. Innocent.
It was too much to take in. But he had to. She was a virgin.
Arkim pulled back from Sylvie’s resisting body, her wince of obvious pain making him feel as if someone had just punched him in the gut. Somehow he got off the bed, stood up... His legs were shaky. He stared at Sylvie but didn’t really see her, and then he acted on autopilot, going to the bathing area to take care of the protection.
