Men to Trust. Diana Palmer
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yet.
Blake was feeling something similar. It had been a long time since he’d had such a willing, hungry partner. Even Shannon, although she loved him, had been receptive but not eager when he made love to her. Violet was different. She tasted of honey. He loved the feel of her mouth under his. He loved the feverish response of her body to his lightest touch. He loved the soft little noises she made, the tiny gasps that pulsed rhythmically out of her throat as his caresses became quickly more intimate.
She felt cool air on her breasts and opened her eyes just a breath. Her clothes were open all the way down the front, and her bra was unhooked. His eyes were a darkened, passionate blue as they caressed her bare breasts, feeding on their ample curves and the taut mauve rise of her nipples. He bent, his mouth opening as he eased down beside her again and took her into his mouth.
She arched completely off the floor, sobbing. “Yes,” she choked. “Yes!”
What little control he’d had left was gone at once. She was as hungry as he was. He didn’t think about afterward. He was too far gone to care about tomorrow. There was only the painful need that stretched his powerful body like rope over her rippling, soft body. Years of abstinence took control of his will.
His hands were deft and efficient. Within seconds, the barriers were all gone, and his mouth was moving hungrily over Violet’s soft belly, down to the inside of her thighs.
While he kissed her, he touched her, in ways and places she’d only read about. She hadn’t dreamed that the sensations would be so overwhelming. When the first ripples of ecstasy worked their way down her aching body, she was far beyond any sort of protest. She loved him. He wanted her. She was becoming a woman, truly a woman, for the first time. She wanted nothing more than to go on being kissed and touched and caressed to madness in his arms.
Somehow, it never occurred to her that the first time might be uncomfortable; or that he might not know it was her first time. Most women were experienced by the time they reached Violet’s age. But Violet was a late bloomer.
She felt the sudden penetration with a hungry delight that turned quite suddenly to discomfort, and then pain. She stiffened and gasped, her nails digging into his back.
Shivering with desire, he managed to lift his head and look into her wide, shocked eyes.
He felt the barrier. Why hadn’t he realized how difficult this might be? Because he was out of his mind with desire, that was why. And he couldn’t stop. He couldn’t…!
His knee pressed her legs wide apart, despite her silent protests, and his hand went quickly between them. He watched her face the whole time, watched fear and pain slowly give way to sharp pleasure.
Her nails bit into his back again, but not in pain this time. She was shuddering rhythmically with every sharp, deep downward movement of his hips. Her legs widened without any more coaxing. Her hips arched up to meet his. And still he held her eyes, watching her as he took her.
It was the most erotic experience of his entire life. Despite his experience, and he had some, it was new territory for him. He had inhibitions as surely as Violet had. Most of his encounters had been in dark rooms, at night. It was the first time he’d gone this far in broad daylight, and that was as erotic as the sight of Violet’s pink nudity under him on the carpet. He began to shiver with each rough movement as he found his way ever deeper into her soft body.
“I’ve never done this…in broad daylight. And I’ve never watched, Violet,” he bit off, his deep voice strained as he looked into her blue eyes.
She swallowed, hard. Her lips were parted on gasping breaths as the pleasure built and began to funnel up in her. She stared into his eyes, shivering, climbing some invisible ladder of pleasure toward what felt like an unbearable goal.
“I’ve…never,” she choked.
His jaw clenched as the pleasure began to bite into him. “I know,” he groaned harshly. His eyes closed on a wave of ecstasy that arched him above her, his hips pinning hers violently as he drove for fulfillment. “God…I can’t…stop!” he moaned.
Violet’s knees drew up on either side of him, enhancing the madness of delight. She arched again and again, her eyes wide, her mouth wide, as she looked into his eyes. They were almost black with desire.
“I feel you,” she whispered brokenly. “I feel you…in me!”
The anguish tripled at the erotic little whisper. His body ground hers into the carpet with violent, urgent motions that were more desperate than experienced. Her back was going to be raw, he thought in one last burst of sanity. Then he felt her convulse under him and cry out, and contract around him. He exploded, his eyes closed, his body helplessly impaling her in one last furious downward movement that lifted him to a level of climax he’d never known.
Violet felt him, tasted him, bonded with him in that space of seconds. The pleasure slowly fell to bearable levels and she wanted to weep, because it was so exquisite, and so very brief. She looked at him while he gave in to his own need, her eyes hungry on the length of his body, rippling muscle and thick hair on his chest, down to the flat stomach that was pressed so close to hers, to the long, powerful legs lying between her white thighs.
It should have been embarrassing, to see them like that. But she was only fascinated by the newness of intimacy.
She looked back up to see his face clenched, damp with sweat, as he slowly came back to himself. His eyes opened, dark, somber, sated.
She reached up and touched his mouth. She felt his body shivering in the aftermath, as hers was. He looked…shattered.
He collapsed on her, his forearms catching most of his formidable weight. His face pulsed at her throat, damp and sucking at breath. He shuddered. Her arms slid around him, cradling him. She felt him against every inch of her. She felt him, still inside her, still pulsing softly.
“Gosh,” she whispered, awed. Her legs curved around the back of his and her body lifted in soft entreaty.
“Optimist,” he murmured.
She laughed softly. She knew what he meant. Men spent themselves, and then it took a long time before they were capable again. She’d never indulged, but she’d heard other women talk.
“When I felt you stiffen, I could have shot myself,” he said at her ear. “I lost it. I knew you were a virgin, and I still couldn’t stop.”
Her hands smoothed his dark, wavy hair. She looked up at the ceiling, vaguely aware of the cats moving around the room, of a breeze fluttering the curtains, of a distant car passing on the highway on the horizon. She’d never been so close to another human being. She knew, finally, what it was to be a woman. She’d never dreamed that it would be Blake who taught her how to make love.
He drew in a long breath and rolled over onto his back, bringing her over him so that he could look up into her wide blue eyes.
His hand went between them and came up with a faint trace of blood.
She blushed.
He searched her eyes for a long time. “I didn’t have the presence of mind to think about protection, either.”
She didn’t know what to say. She was still halfway in and halfway out of a new reality.
His hands slid down her body to her wide, soft hips. “Lift up,” he murmured sensuously.
She did, curious, until she saw his eyes go hungrily to her breasts. His hands slid up to them, cupping them softly. He eased her onto her back and his mouth made a meal of them, kissing and tasting until she rippled all over with renewed desire.
He groaned as his body responded with renewed arousal and sudden urgency. “Are you sore?” he asked roughly.
“I…well, I don’t…ouch!” she gasped when he touched her where the tissues were torn from their first intimacy.
He ground his teeth together. “Sorry,” he whispered.
She