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He held her hips, his fingers digging into her flesh to hold her steady for the delicious torture. She panted and sobbed as he swirled his tongue everywhere but where she needed it the most.
She writhed, tortured by the devious darts and licks. The coil of sensation twisted tighter and tighter, until she was moaning, begging, sobbing.
‘Easy, Catherine,’ he murmured and she was reminded of the way he had handled his horse.
Animal instincts drove her—she needed that thick length inside her. She felt so empty, her sex clenching in a desperate desire to be filled.
He eased one thick finger into her sex, then two, stretching the tight flesh, and finally fastened his lips on the very heart of her, flicking his tongue in a driving, relentless rhythm.
She screamed, her voice so hoarse she didn’t even recognise it. Her back bowed, her body thrusting into his mouth, her fingers fisting as the ruthless orgasm fired from her core and burned through her body in one mind-blowing wave of pure unadulterated pleasure.
He licked her through it, drawing out every last drop of sensation.
She sank back onto the bed, exhausted, limp and uncoordinated.
Rearing over her, he tugged off the tunic and flung it away. Her vision filled with the magnificent sight of bronzed muscle, and the happy trail of hair bisecting his six-pack.
Grasping her legs in unsteady hands, he looked savage, feral as he angled her hips and notched the head of his erection at her core.
He pressed in, slowly at first, but, even with the slickness of her orgasm easing the way, the stretched feeling inched towards pain.
She clutched his shoulders, determined to bear it, wanting more. Wanting all of him. But her fingertips slipped on the slick skin and she felt a series of ridges as her fingers glided over his back.
He was punished harshly for his disobedience.
Compassion assailed her as Nazarin’s words drifted through her mind but then he thrust hard, lodging the thick length deep inside her.
She cried out in pain, and his head reared up.
‘Catherine?’ He stilled, his expression tormented. ‘Are you a virgin?’
‘No,’ she said. She hadn’t meant to lie, but she didn’t want him to stop, scared she would never again feel the dizzying pleasure that lurked so close.
‘It’s okay,’ she said.
He eased out, then rocked back to the hilt. The brutally stretched feeling began to ease, the ripples of pleasure rising fr
om her core, then getting stronger, more relentless as he established a devastating rhythm.
The orgasm built again, slowly, surely, robbing her of breath. She sobbed, her fingers digging into his shoulders as his movements became wild and uncontrolled.
He swelled inside her, and her muscles contracted, sending her over the edge. Pleasure pulsated through her body, her wild cries matched by his harsh shouts as he wrenched out of her and hot seed splashed onto her belly.
It took her a while to come back to her senses, her whole body shuddering with the force of her climax, and his.
So that’s what all the fuss is about?
The inane thought spun through her head as he rolled onto his back and drew her with him.
She lay sprawled over his body, her soft curves flattened over hard contours. Her legs tangled with his, her cheek resting on his shoulder, while his thumb drew lazy circles on her back.
She rose up on one elbow to look into his face—usually so harsh, for once his expression looked relaxed, long dark eyelashes resting on his cheeks. He opened one eye and the sensual line of his lips tipped up in a disarming smile.
Her ribs tightened, her heart thundering in her chest. She was glad she’d made him smile; he really didn’t smile nearly often enough.
The magnitude of what they’d done seemed worth it for that smile.
‘I hope you feel suitably punished,’ he murmured, and she felt her own lips quirk—even though her chest felt unbearably tight.
