Modern Romance November 2015 Books 1-4. Trish Morey
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transfixed. “I have never seen a naked man before. Not one... Not one quite like you.”
“Meaning?”
“I have occasionally seen men changing. Or getting ready to bathe in the river. I have not seen them aroused.”
“And what do you think?”
Color slashed across her high, arrogant cheekbones. Arousal, he thought, not embarrassment. “I very much like it. You. Also it.”
He couldn’t help laughing at that. “I am glad.”
He joined her on the bed, placing his hand on her thigh and drawing it down the length of her leg. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to the inside of her knee. She shivered beneath his touch and he moved forward. He saw a drop of water on her inner thigh and he lapped it up, moving closer to what he craved. He owed her. She had satisfied him out in the hall. And while he knew she had received some pleasure from their coming together, it wasn’t enough. She had also been given pain, which meant she deserved a double portion of pleasure. He was her only lover, would be her only lover ever. It was up to him to show her how incredible it could be.
It wasn’t entirely altruistic on his part. He craved her. Needed to know what she tasted like. Needed to satiate the hunger that was building inside him for her. That had been from the first moment he saw her. He hadn’t realized just how much he wanted her until that moment out in the hall. Until he had lost all control and had had no choice but to claim her.
He took hold of her hips, moving forward and sliding his tongue over her slick flesh, teasing the bundle of nerves he knew was the source of her pleasure. She lifted her rear off the bed, pulling away from him, but he held her fast.
“You can’t do that,” she said, her voice trembling slightly.
“Of course I can.” He ran his tongue over the same path again. “And I intend to do it until you aren’t screaming because you’re lonely. But because you’re screaming my name. You’ll scream until you can’t breathe because of me.”
He lowered his head again, tasting her, satisfying his craving until she was rocking her hips against his mouth, until she was whimpering. He teased the entrance to her body with his finger, sliding it in slowly, before adding a second, establishing a steady rhythm with his lips, tongue and hands. She was close, so close. So wet and ready. And he was so hard he was about to lose all control. But he was intent on giving her this. On satisfying her in this way before he claimed any pleasure for himself.
And then, finally, she screamed her release, her internal muscles tightening around his fingers as she did.
While she was still shivering from the aftershocks, he rose, kissing her lips, positioning himself between her thighs. “Are you ready for me?” he asked, and he prayed to God that she was. Because he had no more restraint left in him.
“I can’t,” she said, her words breathless.
“Oh, but you can. Don’t you know? It’s one of the many beautiful, amazing things about being a woman. As many times as I care to pleasure you, you can find release.”
She shook her head, closing her eyes tight. “I would never survive it.”
“Of course you would. Because I would never let anything happen to you.”
Her lashes fluttered, her eyes opening slowly. “Really?”
His chest tightened, unbearably so, the ache rivaling that of the ache in his body. “Yes,” he said, his pledge. His vow. And with him, she would not be alone. He would do more than simply keep her alive. He would give her the life she craved.
He swore that only to himself.
“I believe you.” She looked at him with such trust, and something quite a lot like panic filled him. How long had it been since someone had trusted him? Kairos might love him, might not have disowned him, but he certainly didn’t trust him. Because Andres had not earned his trust. But Zara trusted him. With everything.
He did not deserve it. But he refused to dwell on it. Not now. Not while he was dying to be inside her. Not while his blood was roaring for release.
He tested her, finding her slick and ready. He entered her slowly, inch by agonizing inch, drawing it out to be cautious of her, of her inexperience and any potential soreness. And to torment himself. He deserved a bit of torment for all that he was getting in return.
When he was sheathed to the hilt inside her body, she gasped, her eyes widening. He found he could not look at her face, for fear he would go over the edge before things even began. He didn’t want it to end like that. He wanted to give her more pleasure. Wanted to make sure that he was giving more than he took.
He established a steady rhythm, driving them both toward release. His blood was roaring through his veins like a beast, intent on devouring him whole if it didn’t find escape. If it didn’t find a way to relieve the intense sensation that was building inside him, so impossibly large he could scarcely breathe around it. Zara arched against him, her breasts pressed into his chest, her hands sliding easily over his back thanks to the water from the tub. She flexed her hips in time with his, instinct more than making up for a lack of experience.
She pushed her fingers through his hair, tugging hard as she claimed his mouth with her own, biting his lower lip before taking the kiss deeper. He moved his hand down her waist, beneath her rear, pulling her up hard against him, drawing her up so that she met each thrust. The tighter he held her, the more she fought to brand the encounter with her own mark. He rolled his hips, his grip on her tight, and she wrenched her mouth from his, angling her face, biting one of the cords of his neck. And he knew, she would have left a physical mark in addition to all the other invisible fingerprints she would leave behind.
Her teeth scraped against his skin as she moved her hand down to his butt, holding him to her as she returned the motion with her hips. That, along with the low, husky growl that vibrated through her being, sent him crashing over the edge before he had a chance to stop himself. Pleasure burst through him like a volcano, the hot flow of his blood almost too much for him to bear. He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Could do nothing more than surrender to the overwhelming release.
He reached between them, sliding his thumb over her clitoris. His last thought before there was nothing but the sensations writing through his body was that he needed her to feel this too. Needed her with him in every way. He felt her begin to tremble, and then she arched beneath him, her internal muscles squeezing his arousal tightly, bringing up his own release. Then there was nothing. He buried his head in her neck, kissing her, closing his eyes and letting the world fall away. Until he couldn’t remember his own name. Until he couldn’t remember himself. A place of bliss.
All too soon, reality rushed back to him. But at least, when he returned to himself he was with Zara.
“Oh,” she said, the word coming out on a long breath.
“Are you disappointed?”
“No. I just... I didn’t know. I didn’t know it could be quite like that.”
“Neither did I.” And that was true. He had used sex for a great many things in the past. And always, he was in control. If he was seeking numbness, temporary companionship, that was what he would find. A mere distraction, and then he would be diverted for just a while. But he hadn’t claimed the control here. This had been a fight to the finish. And right now he could not confidently say he had come out the conqueror.
At the moment, he felt conquered.
“I will have your things moved back into my room.” He didn’t think the words through before they came out of his mouth, but he meant them. He would reclaim control of the situation. He would have his way. There was no reason for her to sleep in her own bed, not when they had discovered this connection between them.
He hadn’t used a condom this time either.
Rather than cursing himself, he felt a kind of grim determination and satisfaction. If she was with child, she wouldn’t be able to push back against