3. Ravenna #2
The ruffian pinches my nipples between his fingers, and I gasp. Then he gives them a tug. My thighs clench and I stagger. I’ve never felt anything like it, a sweeping pleasure with a delicious hint of pain.
He knowingly smirks.
Dear God, what new hellish trial is this? Do you have no mercy?
“I want to tell you a secret.” He leans down until his breath warms my ear. The scent of whiskey and spice invades my senses. “I don’t hate you enough to shove this in your virgin cunt without preparing you first.”
Shocked, I angle my head to look at him. The movement brings our lips so close, if either one of us slightly leans in, we’d kiss.
His gaze flicks to my mouth. I swallow hard. Temptation warms his blue irises for a second before they cool. He wants to kiss me, but he won’t. Why?
Suddenly, he snatches my wrist and places my hand over the front of his trousers so that I can feel him .
My eyes bulge, and fear drives a spike through my chest. That can’t be… but it is, it must be. The thing is huge, just like the rest of this enormous man. Not just thick but long. I’m not even sure where the end is at. There’s no way that’s fitting in me even with preparation . Whatever that means.
He moans. “I’ll be honest with you, if you keep that up, I’m going to come in my pants.”
Horrified, I realize I’ve been fondling his dick, and I quickly pull my hand away.
He grunts.
“You can’t be serious!” I recoil.
His brows draw together. “What?—?”
“That thing in your pants will split me in two. There’s absolutely no way.” I vehemently shake my head. “Not happening. Uh-uh. Nope.”
He chuckles, the sound surprisingly warm and sensual. His mirth only lasts for a second before he straightens to his full, imposing height, his eyes on mine. That unreadable expression returns to his features.
“There’s still time to get an annulment, if that’s what you want.
Without our two families joined, the peace treaty will quickly deteriorate.
I’ve seen it happen. But if you really want this to be over, then I won’t touch you, and in the morning I’ll have you returned to your father, intact, so he may marry you off again. ”
“No,” I say much too quickly. The very thought of being sent back to my father fills me with dread.
If I’m rejected, if I mess this all up, Papa will beat me to within an inch of my life.
Or maybe kill me, since I won’t be of use to him anymore.
Actually, knowing him, he’ll sell me on the flesh market. He never leaves money on the table.
I shiver at the thought.
This Irishman gently touches my shoulder. “What’s wrong? You’re shaking. Are you cold?”
“No. I’m fine. I, um… I don’t want an annulment.” My breath hitches as the rough pad of his thumb caresses my skin. “Don’t send me back,” my voice is barely above a whisper. “Please. I’ll… do whatever you want. I promise.”
Cupping my jaw, he tilts my head back until our eyes meet. He stares at me with genuine concern. It’s unnerving. Why has he gone from ruthless to caring? Is this some twisted game?
Softly, he asks, “Will you trust me? Just for tonight, I know I haven’t earned it for any longer than that—or at all. But if you put your trust in me tonight, I won’t let you down. You’re my wife and I take that responsibility seriously.”
“You won’t send me back to my father?” I need to hear him say it.
“No. I won’t send you anywhere. You’re mine.”
“Okay.” My relief is probably palpable.
“Did he—?” The Irishman cuts himself off and shakes his head as if he’s dismissing a thought. “After tonight we only have to do this a few times each month, when you’re most fertile, until we produce an heir. Maybe two.”
Children. The thought hadn’t even crossed my mind when I stepped into my sister’s place at the altar. Of course he wants children to continue his line, and we’re married now, so the sooner the better for the sake of the treaty.
I did not think this whole thing through. And it’s too late now. The room spins. I blink until I can focus again.
“That’s fair,” I say, though my voice sounds distant to my ears.
“Will you trust me for tonight, then?” He strokes my jawline.
I nod. What other choice do I have?
“Good.” Releasing me, he grabs the duvet and shakes off all the flower petals and chocolates before spreading it back on the bed. “Lie down.”
Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I do as I’m told. I kick off my heels, then lie on my back in the center of the mattress. I anxiously wait for whatever he’s going to do next, and pray that it won’t cause irreparable damage.
Not that my prayers have been answered at all today.
Mama once told me how painful and humiliating this act is between a husband and his wife. How she escapes into her own mind while Papa takes her body.
I’m not at all prepared for this. I just thought I’d have more time before…
The lights switch off, plunging me into darkness. “What?—?”
“Shh, it’s okay. I don’t do this with the lights on. Just stay where you are and I’ll be there in a minute.” Rustling fabric follows his words as he undresses in the dark.
I swallow, my throat dry, attempting to get a grip on my rising panic. The mattress dips, and I push down my welling fear, replacing it with my usual steely resolve when I’m feeling afraid. His hand lands on my thigh and despite my efforts, I stiffen further.
“Relax, mo stoirín , I won’t hurt you. I’m not that kind of man.
” He draws soothing circles on my skin. I’m not sure what to make of his change in behavior.
Doesn't he want to hurt me? “Trust me for this moment. Give yourself to me.” His deep, gravelly voice lulls me into at least trying to relax. “That’s it. Good girl. Now touch yourself. Give yourself pleasure.”
Embarrassment courses through me. “No. I can’t.”
“You can. It’s dark. Pretend you’re alone, that my hands are yours, and you’re touching yourself.” He guides my fingers to my clit, leaving me to do the rest, as he caresses my thigh with one hand and teases my nipples with the other.
Tentatively, I do as he demands, slipping my fingers through my astonishingly wet folds to play with my clit. I can’t believe how turned on I am by all of this—by him —I’m soaked.
Beside me, his heat sears my skin. His spicy cologne fills my nose. There’s something dangerous, but also alluring about his massive form.
I think I want this. I want him. That realization subdues both my fear and resistance as I give in to the pleasurable sensations.
I circle my clit, arching my back in a silent demand for him to do more with my breasts. He reads me loud and clear. His hot mouth claims a nipple, and holy hell if it’s not the most amazing feeling ever. I whimper, pressing more firmly against him, and work myself faster.
My orgasm’s within reach one moment and gone the next, it keeps building and fading away. I grunt in frustration. I must be overstimulated, overwhelmed. If I can just?—
“Let me help you, mo stoirín. ” His thick, rough fingers replace mine. They feel so good. Undulating my hips, I shamelessly ride his hand.
Yes ! If I knew sex was going to be this amazing, I would have jumped on him as soon as we walked through that door. His hands feel so much better on my body than my own. I love the roughness of his palms, the dry heat, his confidence.
Why did mother always tell me sex was a painful sacrifice, a necessary wifely duty? I don’t understand.
Reaching out, I find Cian’s shoulders and pull him towards me in a desperate need to have him closer.
His warmth encompasses me as he hovers over my body.
I spread my legs, allowing him better access.
He slides a thick finger inside me and my eyes roll back in my head.
A couple of strokes has me seeing stars as the most intense orgasm of my life rips through me.
I cry out, needing a vocal release for all of these sensations. My nails dig into his flesh. My entire body trembles beneath him. Then all at once, my muscles relax. Floaty, I go limp as I hover in the stratosphere.
Cian removes his hand only to replace it with cold wetness.
I jolt at the new sensation. “What is that?”
“Lube. Sorry it’s cold.”
“Why do we need lubricant?” Curiosity has emboldened me, otherwise I’d never ask such a question aloud.
“I always use extra lube to make everything easier. Trust me, we need it.”
Always . As in he’s had sex before—of course he has, he’s a grown man. Even so, the thought of him with another woman feels like slap in the face. He’s my first, but I’m his… However many, I don’t want to know.
“ Oh ,” I sharply inhale when he spreads the stuff over my vagina, working it inside me with one thick finger. Pushing away my troubling thoughts, I moan, giving into the delicious pleasure.
When I start moving my pelvis, demanding more, he slips in a second digit and the stretch burns. Adding more lube, he works me until I relax and it starts to feel good again.
I whimper and moan. He takes pity on me and flicks my clit. That’s all I need to send me careening over the edge of ecstasy for a second time.
I’m still trembling when he enters me with something long, thick, and hot. I tense up before remembering the only way I’m going to get through this is to relax.
“I’m ready,” I tell him, squeezing my eyes shut. “Take me.”