Gripping the base of him, Cassian gently ran the bulging head over her opening; they both groaned at the touch, and as he gently pushed in, her tight channel clamped the tip of his shaft—and despite his preparation, her intimate muscles resisted him.
“You are truly untried,” he ground his jaw tight. He went slow, not wanting to hurt her. “Are you hurting?”
“No—” she held his upper arms tight; her bottom lip caught beneath her teeth. “Just… go slow.”
Bracing one hand over her head, he held himself in check as tight, wet heat enveloped his length. Sweat prickled his forehead as he eased forward another inch. As he molded them into one, he made sure to watch her face, the agonizing pleasure, the entire time.
As pleasurable as he felt with her so tight around him, he knew she had to feel some discomfort. The moment she winced, he stopped, allowing her passage time to give way.
Her hand slid down his pectorals, “I feel so… full.”
He dropped his head to her throat and kissed it. “Wait until I am all inside, sweet.”
“Continue,” she whispered breathily. “Please...”
Taking her word, he pressed forward, and he saw the moment she winced. Pressing his mouth to hers, he tried to soothe her; even though he’d taken her maidenhead, being this deep inside her had to be tender.
Finally, with a long, hot glide… he was inside her, filling her so completely. “Bloody hell, you feel good,” he rasped out.
Her pelvis tilted, and she gasped softly, and with no further invitation, he began to move, withdrawing and returning in slow strokes, tempering his motions while watching her face the whole while.
Hungry to devour her expression as well as her pleasure, he memorized every sign of her bliss: the flush sweeping from her cheeks over her bobbing breasts, the soft part of her lips as she gasped, and the tightening of her legs as she met his thrusts.
He craved the feel of her damp skin as she moved with him, and a dark,darkneed to possess her swept over him. He plunged with greater force, harder, deeper, wanting everything from her. He thrust to the hilt, embedding himself fully.
“Oh God…” she moaned throatily, and he consumed her mouth with ferocity.
His gaze flicked to his discarded cravat from earlier, where it lay cast-aside among the rumpled sheets, and a slow, sinful smile curved his lips.
“Trust me?” he rasped, pulling away, his movements slowing to an agonizing crawl.
Her eyes, dark and hazy with desire, found his. “Always.”
He withdrew completely, eliciting a desperate whimper of protest from her lips that sent satisfaction coursing through his veins. “Turn over for me, sweetheart. On your hands and knees.”
She obeyed without hesitation, and the sight of her like this—willing, waiting, trusting—nearly shattered his composure entirely. The graceful arch of her spine, the way her hair tumbled forward... He had to close his eyes for a heartbeat to maintain control.
He retrieved the cravat, the silk still warm from where it had lain against the sheets. “Give me your wrists.”
She extended her arms above her head, and the trust in that simple gesture made something fierce and possessive roar to life in his chest. He wound the soft fabric around her wrists with deliberate care, securing them just tight enough to hold but never to hurt, then pressed the bindings gently into the headboard above her head.
“Too much?” he murmured against her shoulder blade, kissing the tender skin there.
“No…” she breathed shakily. “Don’t you dare stop.”
He pressed a trail of kisses down her spine, savoring every shiver and gasp he drew from her. His hands gripped her hips firmly as he positioned himself behind her, and when he entered her again from this new angle, they both cried out.
Deeper. Fuller. Devastating.
“Sweet hell, Cecilia...” he groaned through clenched teeth.
He began to move with purpose, his grip on her hips commanding as he drove into her. Every thrust drew the most intoxicating sounds from her throat—breathless whimpers and broken cries of his name that made his blood run molten.
One hand splayed possessively across her lower back, feeling the flex and curve of her body as she rocked back to meet him. The other reached forward to grasp the silk binding her wrists,using it as leverage to pull her back onto him with each powerful stroke.
“Christ,you feel—” he couldn’t finish the sentence, too lost in the exquisite heat of her, the way her body yielded to him yet met him with equal fervor.
“Cassian!” His name tore from her lips.
