“How?” she panted. “What is—?” But then his mouth was devouring hers again. And just as his tongue thrust past her lips, one of his fingers slid inside of her.
His tongue thrust around her teeth and then deeper, just as he did with his hand. Another finger entered her and all she could do was clutch at him. Part of her felt like crying, part of her felt like screaming. This overwhelming onslaught was nearly too much.
* * *
Vincent hadn’t expectedto find himself straining against his own needs. He wasn’t a rutting schoolboy.
But, by God, watching her come alive beneath his hand—feeling her body tremble and reach for completion—had him struggling not to spend atop the bedclothes.
“So wet. So warm.” He hadn’t known he was speaking until he heard his own voice out loud. His hand caressed and then massaged around her opening before slipping a middle finger inside. She lifted and bucked beneath him in a haze of passion. But he enjoyed being in control and slowed her by leaning forward, pinning her down with his body.
When she cried out, he captured her sounds inside his own mouth.
Such a fine line between exquisite pleasure and torture.
Unable to wait one second longer, Vincent withdrew his hand and rested his arms along her head. He had never taken a virgin before.
Spreading her thighs wide with his knees, he settled atop her and pressed his tip against her soft opening.
Sensing her arousal, experiencing a hint of her tight, wet heat, his own excitement had him surging forward with one single thrust. There was nothing to do but to break her barrier; better not to prolong the process.
Ah, the exquisite pleasure.
Except the breathy panting sounds tickling his face were immediately replaced by a sharp gasp of pain. She stiffened beneath him, stilling his motions.
“Blast.” He froze and hovered.
He’d taken her too quickly. He wasn’t so oblivious as that. What if he were to move again? Should he pull back? It might cause her more pain.
Guilt hit him when he opened his eyes and saw tears rolling down the sides of her face onto the pillow. “Lila,” he whispered, feeling as though he ought to call her by her title. Place ‘Lady’ before it at the very least. “Are you all right?” He began pulling away, but her hands clutched at him tightly.
Okay. No moving.
“Lila?” he asked again.
Her lashes fluttered and then eyes the color of the ocean on a sunny day gazed up at him.
She did not appear to be devastated or tortured. Although the tears continued to fall, she smiled. And then laughed. “That was it, was it not?”
What was what?
“We have done it?” she clarified.
Which nearly had him laughing. Instead, he merely nodded. “Your father cannot charge me with failure to consummate.” The words were so ridiculous, and her relief so obvious, that he couldn’t help but smile back at her.
But there was more. So much more. He held himself in check so that she could grow used to his intrusion.
“I’m going to begin moving again.” He stared at her lips, swollen from his kisses, and then back into her eyes. His own need demanded he get back to business.
She nodded. “But,” her voice caught him just as he went to pull back, “slowly?”
In answer, he captured her lips again and slowly slid his tongue past her teeth once.
And then again.
She nodded.
He pulled back less than an inch and then crept forward again. She did not close her eyes this time, and neither did he. He would watch her, follow her signals as he gradually increased the depth and pace of his strokes.
