Chapter 22 #3
Her body wanted to arch upward, into his touch. As if her body was as separate an entity as his instrument. As if she had no will to direct it to behave.
“Douglas,” she said.
“Lady Sarah,” he answered. “Relax and enjoy.”
How could she possibly enjoy something as invasive and intrusive? How could she enjoy something so hideously embarrassing?
Her hands clutched at his shoulders as he deepened the kiss.
It was not enough for him to lead her somewhere forbidden and exotic.
He had to send her there as well, catapulting her through a starlit sky or rainbows, or the mist of a waterfall—all places with which she had no familiarity except in dreams.
His fingers stroked forbidden places; her body warmed and seemed to swell. Her heartbeat raced, and every sensation, every thought, every feeling was centered on where his hand was and the action of every separate finger.
He stroked through her swollen folds, played with the dampness there, pressing on one certain spot that summoned a gasp, followed by a moan.
He smiled against her lips and did it again, teaching her that he hadn’t been repulsed by her earthiness, but delighted, instead.
Her hands gripped him tighter as the rhythm of his fingers increased. Slow, at first, then faster, and just when she had anticipated the quickness of his touch, he slowed again, leaving her wanting more.
Her legs spread, her body opened, even as his kiss deepened.
She was a novice and he the expert, and she could only hold on to him, helpless.
Sarah placed her hands against the back of his head.
In an effort to halt him? Or in an entreaty for him to continue, only quicker, please?
She wanted to be done with this innocence of hers, as if it were a cloak enveloping her, shielding her from him.
She wanted to know everything, to have done everything, to have felt it all before only for the joy of feeling it again.
He was suddenly over her, his body warming hers, settling onto hers so perfectly it was as if he could see in the dark. He was braced on his forearms, his fingers playing with her hair, his chest pressing against her breasts, his back arched so that his instrument was at the opening of her body.
“I’m ready,” she said in a voice too breathless to be hers.
“Are you?”
She nodded.
He bent and kissed her, and entered her at that moment.
She braced herself for the pain. He was large, his sheer size causing her to gasp aloud.
But there was no pain as he entered her inch by inch.
Just a feeling of being invaded, and a curious feeling of being stretched.
Her hands grasped him at the waist, slid to his hips, before curving to hold his buttocks.
Her legs widened as if her body instinctively knew how to welcome him.
He pressed against her, and a shiver traveled through her body.
“Are you ready?”
She could only nod.
Now the pain would come. Would she scream? Would the inhabitants of Kilmarin know that she’d been made wife? Was that why everyone tried to ply a bride with spirits on the occasion of her wedding? To numb her for what must surely happen?
He pulled out of her slowly, and she lost her grip on his buttocks. Her hands fell to the sheet before she placed them back on his hips. His skin was soft and hot, as if a furnace burned just below the surface.
When he entered her again, it was as slow. Nor would he speed up the pace no matter how fiercely she pulled him to her.
She really couldn’t tolerate this. The tension in her body was nearly unbearable.
“Douglas, please.”
He drew back. “Am I hurting you?”
“No, not yet. Please hurry though. I don’t like waiting for pain.”
“In my own time, Lady Sarah,” he said, and she could swear he was smiling.
Should he be so amused?
He slowly withdrew again, and this time, her body recognized the pattern. She arched up as if to follow his withdrawal, then subsided when he entered her again.
She couldn’t think, all her mind’s ability pinned to his movements. He kissed her and licked her. She followed him when he pulled back, as if he had somehow linked them with the power of his mouth.
She wasn’t feeling as stretched as before. Instead, she felt as if she fit him perfectly. Sarah flattened her hands on his buttocks, and when he would have left her, she pulled him closer and wiggled beneath him.
Should he really be swearing at this moment?
She forgot about his manners a second later, because he entered her faster this time and the next. Every time he pressed up against her at the ending of his strokes, the sensation of lightning traveling through her almost ripped her in two.
His skin was growing damp, his breath as ragged as hers, and she couldn’t help but wonder if his heart was also racing frantically.
He held himself nearly out of her, supporting his weight on his hands.
“No pain, Sarah?”
“No,” she said. Had she failed in some elemental way? “And you?”
“More than you could imagine,” he said.
Had he somehow taken her pain?
He lowered his body and began stroking again, faster and faster, increasing the pace until she had no choice but to grip his waist and allow her body to do as it wanted. Her mind was left to make some sense of copulation.
He made a sound between his teeth and suddenly collapsed atop her, his head on the pillow next to hers.
A few minutes later, he turned his head. His breath fanned across her cheek. If she moved just so, she would be within kissing range of him. He didn’t seem in a kissing mood, however, since he rolled to his side and propped his head up on his hand.
“How do you feel?” he asked softly.
“Well, thank you.”
Should it be this difficult to converse with him? She couldn’t help but remember that his hands had been everywhere on her body, not to mention his member deep inside.
“No pain?”
She shook her head before realizing he probably couldn’t see her. “No, no pain. Just a little discomfort,” she said. “You’re very large, you know.”
He didn’t answer her, just bent closer and nipped at her ear with his teeth—such a surprising gesture that she jumped.
“What else do you feel?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“A feeling as if you can’t quite catch your breath?”
“I seem to be a little out of sorts,” she finally admitted.
“Are you?”
She nodded, then substituted a word for the gesture. “Yes.”
One hand stroked over a breast, hovered just lightly over a stiff nipple, then moved to her stomach.
She was not prepared for the invasion of his fingers, especially since he chose that moment to nip at her ear again.
“Douglas.”
“Hush, Sarah,” he said, a smile in his voice. “I’d use my mouth, but I think it’s a little early for that.”
His mouth?
While she was adjusting to that startling bit of information, he slowly inserted a finger inside her. She was so shocked by his actions that she turned to him just in time for him to lower his mouth over hers.
His kisses really were intoxicating.
He started that rhythmic movement with his fingers again, stroking over her swollen flesh so delicately, then moving quicker.
The strangest feeling was beginning to overwhelm her, almost as if she were melting, as if she were turning into honey.
Her skin was on fire, beginning where he was stroking and stretching outward to all her limbs.
Even her toes curled as pleasure traveled through her.
She turned toward him, her hands flailing against him.
She would have whispered his name had any coherent thought been left to her. Her skin, slick and wet, felt hot and tight as if fire burned inside her.
She moaned into his mouth. He broke off the kiss, nuzzled at the nape of her neck, then kissed his way up her throat while she was desperate for breath.
“It’s all right, Sarah,” he said softly against her ear. “I’ve got you. You can soar.”
And she did. Just when she thought the pleasure couldn’t get any stronger, it ended, stopped in full motion by a burst of exhilarating sensation through her body. A sound escaped her, softer than a scream, louder than a moan, but she didn’t care.
Her thoughts, her mind, her body was centered on the extraordinary pleasure she felt and the man who’d brought it to her.