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Nicer still to know it was only she who could manage that feat.
"Good morning," she replied with a radiant smile.
A corner of Damen's mouth lifted. "Don't we look self-satisfied this morning." He lowered his head, brushed her lips with his. "Any reason in particular?"
"M-m-m." Anastasia sighed, twined her arms around his neck. "Several. Most of which are self-explanatory." She caressed his hair-roughened jaw. "But at the moment I was thinking how smug it makes me feel to know that I, and I alone, can demolish the composure of the ever-commanding Damen Lockewood."
"Indeed you can." He rolled onto his back, pulled her over him, and dragged her mouth down to his. "Again and again, if I remember correctly," he breathed into her lips.
Anastasia shivered, giving in to the demands of her watery muscles, which clamored to relax, melt into Damen's solid strength.
Damen made a husky sound of approval, tangling his hands in her hair and slanting her mouth to accept the full penetration of his.
Their tongues met, stroked, melded, and Anastasia's breath came faster as their kisses deepened, turned more urgent. Her nipples hardened against his chest, tingling as the hair-roughened surface rasped against them. Damen's thighs slid between hers, nudged hers wide apart, and she whimpered aloud as his rigid shaft probed the entrance to her body.
"Is it too soon?" he managed, his voice rough with passion. "Can you take me again?"
Anastasia tried to answer, but the words lodged in her throat. Instead, she let her body speak for her, her knees straddling his hips, her thighs lowering her slowly, maddeningly onto him. He glided into her, a rumbling groan vibrating in his chest, and his mouth devoured hers as he eased into her tight, clinging passage. She sank down farther, begging him wordlessly for more, and Damen's hands slid down her back to her bottom. He gripped her buttocks, hard, and pushed up and into her trembling wetness, burying himself to the hilt inside her.
Talons of pleasure shot through her, and Anastasia tore her mouth from Damen's, arching her back and taking him deeper still. She began the instinctive motion—up, down, up, down—the resulting sensations too acute to withstand. She felt wild, frantic, her entire body burning with a fever she'd only just discovered and couldn't imagine living without.
Clutching her waist, quickening the motion of his hips, Damen raised up, capturing her nipple between his lips.
He drew the entire peak into his mouth, lashing at it with his tongue until a harsh sob escaped Anastasia's lips. Still, he didn't relent, shifting to the other breast, lavishing that nipple with the same attention as the first.
"Damen." She cried out his name, so desperate for release that she hardly knew what she was saying. Her thighs gave out, the muscles too weak to keep setting the pace. She was close, so close, hovering right at the brink of where she needed to be, and yet unable to get there. Each tug of Damen's lips sent fire shooting from her breasts to her loins, each lunge of his hips brought her one degree closer to fulfillment. And yet … God, she couldn't reach it.
Her entire body tightened, reaching, shuddering with unappeased hunger. "Damen," she gasped again, his name an unspoken plea.
Damen understood it.
Abandoning her breasts, he dropped back down to the bed, his own body screaming its need for release. Staring into Anastasia's passion-flushed face, he raised his knees, pushed her backward until she was anchored by them. "Let me," he commanded. He grasped her waist with one hand, continuing the frenzied rise and fall of his hips as he thrust even higher, farther, into her, nudging the very mouth of her womb. "Stacie, look at me," he rasped. "I want to watch you. I want you to watch me."
She complied instantly, meeting his blazing silver gaze, his handsome features taut with unsated passion. Just seeing how close he was made her own need even sharper, and she whimpered again, quivering as she kept her eyes on his.
His other hand moved to the spot where they were joined, his fingers unerringly parting her, finding the straining bud. His thumb caressed it, scraped over it, then circled it with erotic precision. Her insides clenched violently and, the instant he felt her response, Damen lunged upward, lifting her off the bed with his total possession, his fingers burning into her as he filled her, stretched her, penetrated her, beyond bearing.
Her climax slammed through her like cannon fire, and she screamed, grabbing Damen's shoulders and watching his face as his own release took over, stormed through him. He threw back his head, the tendons in his neck straining, and he shouted her name, thrusting into her once, twice, then holding her there as he pumped his hot seed into her, meeting each of her wrenching contractions with a scalding burst of heat. She watched him until the pleasure became too acute, until she had to arch, fling back her head, then toss it from side to side as the spasms intensified, clasped rhythmically around Damen's turgid length as he poured himself into her.
She fell forward, collapsed against the wall of his chest, felt it heaving with the exertion of their lovemaking. She was shaking uncontrollably, her heart racing, her emotions as raw as her body.
Damen's arms closed around her, enfolded her tightly against him, and he pressed his lips into her hair, willing his senses to right themselves. "God," he panted, barely able to speak. "My God."
Anastasia closed her eyes, lay her cheek against his hot skin. "I love you," she whispered. "More than I ever thought possible."
"And I love you; although th
ose words—any words—seem inadequate after what we just shared."
A lingering shiver rippled through her, along with all the romantic yearnings of a woman in love. "I wish…" Her voice trailed off.
Damen hooked a forefinger beneath her chin, angling it until her gaze met his. "So do I. And we will." He brushed damp strands of hair off her face. "We'll have it all, Stacie—a lifetime like this. Beginning with a church wedding, and all the guests you want to fill it. Once we've taken our vows and the entire world has witnessed you becoming my wife, we'll have a wedding breakfast fit for a king and his queen—most of which we'll miss because I'll be sneaking you off to a local inn, making love to you until you can't breathe and don't even want to. We'll leave for our wedding trip the next day, very little of which you'll remember because I'll be keeping you abed throughout it. And when we come home…" His fingertips caressed her lips. "When we come home, you'll be pregnant with my child, and I'll spend the next nine months doting on you and watching you grow more beautiful and radiant with each passing day. How does that sound so far?"
Tears glistened on Anastasia's lashes. "So far? Have you planned more than that?"
"Of course." A profound smile touched his lips. "I'd like four, maybe five, children."
"Five—is that all?" She smiled through her tears. "Girls? Or boys?"
