Climbing back onto the bed, he caged her in with muscular arms, the sensual smile now replaced with desperation. He cupped her cheek, ran his thumb over her lips. ‘Are you still sure about this, Freya? Because once we do this thing, there’s no going back.’
She wasn’t sure what he meant by that, the intent in his eyes making her momentarily wary. Why did this have to mean anything? Other than the pursuit of pleasure? He had made no promises, no demands and neither had she, nor would she.
But the rush of desire was too great for coherent thought, so she dismissed the prickle of panic at the strange expression on his face and nodded.
He clasped her hips in sure hands, settled his large body in the lee of hers. Grasping her knees, he drew them up to position her. The erection pushed against her sex, still swollen and slick from her climax.
He thrust, with a sureness, a certainty that took her breath away and had her gasping. The full, stretched feeling was too much and yet not enough, the penetration impossibly deep.
‘You’re so tight,’ he murmured against her neck. ‘Has it been a while?’
She clung to his shoulders, nodded again, robbed of words, not wanting to lie, but not wanting him to stop.
He rocked his hips, out, then back, easing deeper, until the immense pressure turned to discomfort. Too full. Too firm. Too much.
She groaned, a raw guttural sound, as the soreness became a sharp pain. Suddenly he was lodged so deep, she could feel him everywhere—each sensation acute. Not just the raw pulse of her sex, but also the rasps of her breathing, the heady buzz in her breasts as her nipples rubbed against the coarse hair on his chest. She inhaled the rich, earthy scent of him.
Everywhere their bodies touched felt raw and strange and new. She drifted, the pain turning to discomfort, then a fullness so immense his possession of her heightened every sound, every touch, every shattered emotion.
He swore in Greek. Then lifted his head, his fingers caressing her hips, even as his gaze sharpened, and something akin to horror crossed his face.
‘Am I your first?’ he said, the tone cracking with shock or concern, she couldn’t be sure.
She wanted to lie in that moment, because he did not look happy at the prospect, but somehow the feel of him so large and firm inside her robbed her of the ability to deny the truth. ‘Yes…’
He swore again and dropped his forehead to hers.
‘I-I have to move. Am I hurting you?’ That he would ask made her heart swell even as her panic increased.
‘No, not any more.’
He found the place where their bodies joined and brushed over her tender clit.
Her body contracted, the rush of pleasure fierce and full as her sex clamped around that thick intrusion.
He began to move. Slowly, carefully at first, with infinite patience. Dragging out, thrusting back, finding a rhythm that made her writhe—caught on the hook of her own pleasure. The climax that had been so far away moments before began to build and swell again. She clutched his shoulders to lift into those punishing thrusts, taking more of him, taking all. They moved together in sinuous, frantic rhythm, giddy seduction turning to furious elemental need.
‘Come for me, dammit,’ he growled, his voice low with urgency.
The conflagration burst inside her, as if by his command, terrifying and beautiful in its intensity—soaring through her aching flesh to torch everything it touched, like fireworks on a winter night—vivid, vibrant and free. She coasted on the wave and plummeted into the abyss. And heard him shout his own release as he plummeted behind her.
What the fuck just happened?
Theo dragged his aching cock free, managing through sheer force of will to keep his arms braced long enough to stop himselffrom crushing the woman he’d just pounded into the mattress like a madman.
He rolled onto his back, still struggling to even his breathing, his heart racing like a runaway train, the raging hunger not fully sated, even though he’d just had an out-of-body experience… And easily the most shattering orgasm of his entire life.
He threw his arm over his face as shame washed through him. It was a shame he recognised but hadn’t had to acknowledge in a long time.
Dammit, she’d been a virgin. And yet he hadn’t been able to stop. She was a princess—and he’d treated her like a whore.
Not that he’d ever paid for sex, but he’d seen the poor creatures who had worked the docks, and the men who used them in the shadows.
Sex to him had always been light, pleasurable, a recreational sport that he enjoyed. He prided himself on always giving the women he dated, however briefly, a good time, before moving on. But this already felt like more. Like too much.
‘Theo, is everything okay?’
The quiet question from the woman—no, the girl—beside him made his gut knot, even as his cock twitched with renewed vigour.
