Page 22 of A Whisper of Desire
Now he was just looking at her with that worried look on his face.
She wanted the wild man back. She deliberately rubbed herself against the long, hard length of him sitting at her entrance, and she loved it when his head dropped and he groaned.
She did it again, eager to lift her hips and make him ease the ache that was swirling deep inside her.
“You’re playing with fire, little one,” he growled, and she felt his rising fever when his palm cupped her breast.
“At least I’m playing. Why have you stopped?”
“I’m trying to gather a semblance of control so I don’t hurt you.”
His member entered her slowly and her world began to focus on that one small inch of flesh spearing her. Her eyes closed and she almost begged him to join them now.
He held still, his body not moving except for his chest as he breathed deeply. She could smell him, a hint of sandalwood mixed with the musky smell of sex. The weight of his hips pushed him in a little farther and she would have raised her hips to join them, but his strength pinned her down on the bed.
A cry of frustration escaped and she flopped her head on the pillow.
At last he moved and slid deeper. She sighed her approval as his hips continued to pin her down. His head lowered and he took one of her aching nipples into his mouth. Her body grew tighter as he suckled her. She watched him through an aroused haze. She could see his broad shoulders and muscled chest above her. But her mind focused on the feel of his hard muscled thighs and lean hips, and most of all his cock, large and stiff, moving slowly within her.
Her body clenched with need, her inner muscles eager to draw him deeper.
He stopped moving once again and she groaned.
“I’ve reached your barrier. This might pinch a bit,” he said, and on the word “might,” he thrust home, just when she was not expecting it.
Thankfully, there was only a moment of sharp, biting pain. As it dulled, all she could focus on was how he seemed to fill her, stretch her; she was scared to move an inch, as the fit felt so tight.
“Breathe in—then out. The pain will lessen.” She could see his taut arms beside her shake with the effort not to move.
He hung suspended above her, a sheen of sweat on his brow. “How are you?” he asked, as if he were asking her to pass his cup of tea.
Her hips shifted slightly to test whether he would split her in two. There was no sharp pain, but she certainly felt—“invaded” seemed a good word.
“Fine. Perhaps you could make it better?”
He smiled then, and her breath fled. She wished he would smile more often. He slowly pulled back in a single smooth movement, and then he pushed back in, deep and hard. His size meant she felt every inch as he impaled her once again, but this time it felt different.
He continued to move within, and soon it was too slow for her liking. Each time he entered her she felt her stomach flutter, and that special sensation grew. Her hips soon matched his rhythm, her inner muscles gripping as if to stop him from leaving her. She urged him with her hips to speed up, and on a growl he grabbed her wrists and pinned them above her head to the bed.
That served to arouse her more.
Her head left the pillow and she captured his mouth with hers. The melding of their mouths got the required response. He thrust faster, harder, and her body clenched about him.
The pleasure began to build, her whole being poised to fly—she focused on their joining, waiting to reach the pinnacle. She wanted to reach it with him.
She could feel him trembling above her. He was all she could see, hear, and smell. He thrust faster and his bollocks slapped against her flesh. She opened herself wider, her legs straining to ensure he went as deep as possible.
At last she recognized he was close. The cords in his neck were so tight every vein could be seen. His eyes blazed with heat and his grip on her wrists tightened.
She stopped fighting her body and let the sensations grow, tighter and tighter, every nerve ending screaming to be set free. Her head arched back with the strain of waiting for him.
Just when she thought she could take no more, he frantically began to move. He thrust so hard she was being pushed up the bed. Her body sang his tune and soon the whole bed was rocking.
Then she was flying, through a kaleidoscope of colors in a bright sunlit sky. A scream left her lips, his name—Maitland. She cried out over and over again. She let the waves of pleasure send her floating to that secret place as she felt Maitland still, then strain, as he called out her name.
It was the most glorious moment she’d ever experienced. She wanted to savor the feeling, hug it to her chest, and imprint it on her memory. Whatever else happened in this marriage, she would always have this night.
He flopped down upon her, still holding her wrists, but lightly now. His weight, great and heavy, was comforting. He seemed to be as undone by the experience as she was.
