Chapter 15 #3
Tightly, he thought in answer to her unspoken words. Rory was barely able to resist a lust-filled shudder as he imagined her soft heat closed around him. “It will be all right, Isabel. The first time there’s pain, but it will lessen. Trust me.”
In answer, she lifted her face to his in guileless invitation. The erstwhile seductress had vanished, replaced by the innocent woman yearning for a fulfillment that only he could give her.
No enticement was necessary. He kissed her again, his mouth moving over hers possessively.
He pulled her closer, and the shock of her bare skin pressed against his produced a sensation unlike any he’d ever felt.
Hot and sensitive, their bodies merged like molten lava, skin to skin.
His hands roamed her body, stoking the fire.
Her breasts, her hips, her stomach, the long length of her legs, the delicate curve of the arch of her tiny foot … he wanted to touch every inch of her.
She writhed in sweet agony, leaning her hips toward his.
He knew what she wanted. He gave it to her.
With a soft chuckle of pure masculine pride, his mouth closed over one breast as his hand began its tormentingly slow crawl down her flat stomach.
Too aroused for any more teasing, he slid his hand between her legs, finding her already damp with desire.
He increased the pressure on her breast with his mouth as his finger slid inside her, and he began the merciless stroking. He heard her startled gasp when he slid in another finger, stretching her gently. She clenched her thighs around his hand, and her hips began to move in a sensual rhythm.
He watched her head fall back against the pillow, eyes closed, lips parted, the soft, husky panting of her breath urging him on. He found the center of her pulse, and his knowing fingers brought her to the edge of a storming frenzy.
Sweat beaded on his brow. For each minute delayed, the pain of his desire was nearly unbearable. He wanted nothing more than to slide into her silken heat, but something held him back. It was important that she enjoy this as much as he was about to.
He began to trail kisses down her velvet stomach.
Bracing her hips with his hands, before she guessed, he moved his mouth between her thighs and nuzzled her softly.
Shocked, she bucked and murmured an embarrassed protest, but he held firm.
She was deliciously wet, and he couldn’t wait to taste her passion.
Instantly mortified, Isabel could not believe his intimate kiss.
But her resistance was futile—like the sun refusing the moon its entry into the evening sky.
She couldn’t push him away, her body wouldn’t let her.
The pressure built inside her with each wicked stroke of his tongue.
She felt possessed by pleasure, mindless with need.
She yearned to move her hips, to clench her thighs around his head and release the exquisite torture.
He teased her until she quivered, until she unconsciously pressed against his mouth, wanting more.
“Tell me what you want, Isabel.”
She writhed as his tongue flicked out to tease her again.
“Tell me,” he ordered, his voice sinfully dark and wicked.
“I want—” Her voice broke. “Like last time.”
“You want me to make you come?”
His voice spread an erotic veil around her, freeing her inhibitions. Never could she imagine such intimacy. All modesty vanished in the face of the desperate cravings of her body. “Please,” she begged.
He chuckled and buried his face against her.
He kissed her harder, as if he couldn’t get enough of her.
“I love the way you taste, like warm honey.” His words drove her wild, but his tongue made her touch heaven.
Sensation gripped her, and she felt the desperate climb as the tingling turned into a frantic pulse.
Just when she thought she could not take any more, his mouth pressed against her most sensitive spot and sucked.
She exploded, pulsing her release against his wicked mouth.
Isabel felt boneless, utterly spent. As contented as a well-fed cat. He read her expression and laughed. “I’m not done with you yet, my sweet. That was just the beginning.”
He braced himself above her, lifting his chest and extending his arms, one hand placed on each side of her shoulders.
She opened her eyes, struggling to pierce the haze of passion that had engulfed her.
With his body braced above hers, she had a perfect view of his powerful chest. Her hands moved slowly up his arms, caressing the hard muscle under her fingertips.
Just touching him roused her passion. She took the time to examine the various scars peppering his torso, tracing them gently with her fingers.
He embodied power and virility. Under the shield of his broad, powerful chest, paradoxically both warm and as hard as cold steel, she felt incredibly vulnerable, but completely safe.
Power was intoxicating, she realized, but not in the way her uncle desired.
The raw strength she felt as she explored his body was much more enticing, much more overwhelming.
His was a power of protection. She sensed that when he held her in his arms, nothing would ever harm her.
She knew her touch was making him crazy.
But she wanted more. Aching to feel him, she reached between them and traced a light trail down the cords of muscle lining his stomach.
His body clenched. He seemed unable to move or breathe as her hand slid down his belly.
Isabel smiled, enjoying the moment of control.
Slowly, she found him.
This time, no plaid separated the feel of her hand encircling him.
She felt his body stiffen as her hand wrapped around the velvety skin of his arousal.
Isabel was shocked at the feel of rigid steel surrounded by the softest skin she could imagine.
She explored his length with her fingers.
Glancing shyly at him from under her long lashes, she was surprised to see his face contorted in pain.
His eyes were hooded, his teeth clenched, the hollows beneath his high cheekbones even more pronounced.
“Show me.”
She didn’t know if he heard her. Then he slowly opened his eyes. “I don’t think I can,” he whispered tightly.
“Please.”
The small entreaty seemed to break him. He taught her to find his rhythm.
Fascinated, she watched his face as she brought him to the edge of surrender—astonished by her ability to arouse him.
She felt the power in him waiting to explode.
A warm feeling of tenderness enveloped her heart as she watched the pleasure of her touch transform his features with unbridled passion.
She was the master of this powerful warrior. She held him in her hand. He was hers.
“Enough.” He unfurled her fingers from his length. “I cannot wait any longer.”
His hand moved between her legs. He eased a finger between her folds and groaned. “Do you see how your body wants me?” He leaned down to kiss her. “You’re already wet for me again.”
He grabbed her hips and lifted her to him, slowly moving his staff between her legs.
He teased her with the thick round head, sliding along her damp opening until heat flooded between her legs.
She opened wider, and he eased himself in inch by inch.
Her body tensed, instinctively fighting the invasion.
He was too big. Too thick. Too much. Sensing her fear, jaw clenched with restraint, he lowered his mouth to her ear and whispered, “Isabel, trust me. It will hurt only for a moment.”
And before she could think, he plunged deep inside her, tearing through the web of her innocence.
He covered her cry with his mouth. Isabel stiffened with the pain. She felt as though she’d been ripped in two. She pressed against his chest, trying to push him off her. But he wouldn’t budge.
“God, you feel good,” he groaned. “Trust me, Isabel. Relax. Feel me in you. Concentrate on my mouth.” He kissed her again, wooing her. Teasing her, making her forget, and, finally, easing the pain.
Slowly, she felt her body come alive again. The sensation of him inside her was unlike anything she’d ever imagined. He filled her, claimed part of her that she never knew existed.
He began to move, easing himself in and out. She felt the fever return as the movements quickened. She reached up to grab his shoulders, steadying herself against his hard thrusts. Instinctively, she lifted her hips to meet his masterful strokes.
Isabel was acutely aware of the slow building within her, a building even more intense than before.
He pounded harder, faster, deeper. Frantically, she raked her fingers down his back, clutching his rock hard buttocks as she felt it coming closer.
And closer. Her pulse contracted. Heart beating rapidly, she clasped her legs around him and let herself go, exploding with a violent release.
Shattering into thousands of pieces like shards of broken glass tossed over a cliff.
As she quivered with the contractions of her exploding passion, he clutched her bottom and lifted her hips, driving into her one last time, filling her completely.
Throwing his head back with a roar, he stiffened with his release, spilling his seed deep in her.
They clutched each other, rolling on the tide of their shared climax.
Where there had been two, there was now one.
Joined together in perfect surrender, floating on the crashing waves of heaven’s most magnificent ocean.
Rory collapsed on top of her. Neither wanted to break the connection that joined them in the sultry cocoon of the silk-curtained bed.
The warm air was thick and damp, burgeoning with the musky scent of spent passion.
Still tingling, Isabel felt the waves of passion slowly ebb around him.
The fevered pace of her heart began to slow.
Her breathing steadied. Finally, with seeming reluctance, Rory rolled off her, gently pulling her naked body close to his.
Isabel savored the way their damp bodies slid together—molding perfectly in a delightful tangle of limbs.
A warm, prickly happiness unlike anything she had ever experienced crept through her weary bones.
Sighing with contentment, she snuggled closer to the warm strength next to her and closed her eyes.
Never had she suspected that such beauty or closeness could exist. She wanted to hold on to this man forever.
But could it last? Refusing to allow any nefarious implications to cloud the blissful moment, she concentrated instead on the steady beat of his heart—lulling her into a wonderfully exhausted and well-sated sleep.