She backed away from him, toward the bed. She felt the edge hit her backside and jolted, because her skin was so sensitive now that anything that touched it made her quake. Slowly she pushed herself up on the high edge and then scooted toward the headboard.
He smiled and shed his jacket, his waistcoat. He unwrapped his cravat and then tugged his shirt over his head. She sat up straighter as she stared at him, this stranger built of muscle and sinew. This god who would deflower her and save her life without even knowing he’d done it.
She’d never seen anything like him, and she felt a wild and wanton urge to touch him. To open to him, to surrender everything to him,anything. She waited for him to strip off the rest, but he didn’t. Instead he moved toward her, pressing his hand to the edge of the mattress and bowing it toward him as he climbed up beside her. Then he touched her ankles and she arched a little. God’s teeth, but the man was like a magician. Just this tiny touch and she was lost.
He smiled up at her and then gently parted legs. She let him, blushing as she revealed the most private part of her to his gaze. And gaze he did, taking in every naked inch of her as he began to crawl up her body, opening her wider as he went.
“Has a man ever licked you here?” he asked, placing his hand on her thigh and brushing his fingers higher, almost to the apex where she knew a man was meant to take her.
She flushed. That was not an act she’d even known existed. Would that take care of her pesky, unwanted virginity? Was it something that felt nice? Should she say yes or no?
“From your blank expression, I will assume no,” he said with a chuckle. “It’s a shame so many men are reticent to perform the act. But I will take great pleasure in introducing it to you.”
She watched as he bent his head and brushed his cheek against her thigh. There was a slight roughness to his cheek, a day’s worth of beard growth that tickled the sensitive skin. He was so close to her sex now, and her cheeks felt like they were on fire as she stared at him. He drew a great breath and then smiled up at her.
“Lovely,” he whispered. “Open wider.”
She clenched the coverlet in her fist and did as he commanded. He slid his hands up the insides of both thighs. His skin was rough, his fingertips warm, and she was lost in a mob of sensation as he opened her sex with his thumbs.
He looked up at her, sin in the flesh, wicked to the core. But oh God, seeing him between her legs was like something out of her most scandalous dreams.
He edged up closer and then he pressed a closed-mouthed kiss to her sex. She lifted slightly against him with a garbled moan of both surprise and pleasure. She had never felt anything like that before, not even when she furtively touched herself at night.
He kissed her again, and this time he parted his lips and steamed warm breath against her sensitive folds. When he kissed her a third time, he slid his tongue along her entrance and she cried out without meaning to.
He pushed against her legs and she stretched them farther, granting him deeper access, which he exploited immediately. He licked languidly, tasting every inch of her wet entrance. She found herself lifting into him, clutching one hand harder into the coverlet while she dug the other into the thick waves of his dark hair.
He slowed the cadence of his tongue now, focusing himself not along her entire slit, but swirling around and around the nub of her clitoris. She cried out helplessly. She’d felt something like it before. An echo if she touched herself. She’d always stopped the moment it became too intense. He didn’t. He drew the feeling further than she ever had, dragging her toward what felt like a cliff of powerful pleasure. She was almost afraid of it. Afraid of what would happen if she just let go.
He sucked the nub of nerves, and she screamed as that cliff disappeared and she fell into the abyss. Her body jolted, waves of sensation cresting over her again and again and again. Her back arched, she pushed at his head, pulled at it, rode the endless pleasure until at least the tremors subsided. Only then did he stop licking her. He crawled up her body, caging her in with a smile on his slick lips. He bent his head and kissed her, allowing her to taste the sweet aftereffects of her pleasure on his lips.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him down over her as she ground up against him out of some ancient knowledge she didn’t even know she possessed. She was past the point of fear now, past the point of anxiety. What this man had to give, she wanted to take.
She wanted more. Not just because it would save her, but because it made her feel alive. She hadn’t realized that was a new experience until he gifted it to her. He drove his tongue hard against her, his hands roaming over her skin. Then he grunted as he parted his mouth from hers.
His eyes were wild, animal, and fear flared in her chest. But it was a luscious fear, just the right kind of fear.
“Roll over,” he ordered.
She couldn’t have refused him, nor did she want to. She did as he asked, pushing to her stomach. She felt him shifting, and when she dared look over her shoulder, she found he had parted the placket on his trousers and had his cock in hand. It was huge, far bigger than anything she’d seen in art. It was thick and hard, and suddenly her anxiety returned.
He slid one arm beneath her hips and tugged until she was on all fours. She felt him at her entrance, the insistent heat of him pulsing against her sex. She braced and he thrust, pushing into the untried channel in one long burst as she gasped in a combination of pleasure and burning pain.
He stilled immediately, his entire body going tense behind her. A silence that felt like it lasted an eternity stretched between them. Then he said one word.
“Shit.”
