“I want you.”
“That’s my good girl,” he growled and picked her up.
He climbed on the bed with her in his arms and placed her head on the pillows. He pulled the forgotten nightgown down her body and threw it away. Then he shed the robe off his shoulders, and Arabella could now feast upon his naked body.
She had never seen a naked man before, but she remembered how scandalous it was when there was an exhibition with ancient statues of Greek gods. He could have easily been one of those. An immortal god pretending to be human, ready to devour her mortal frame.
“I am going to be slow and gentle,” he let himself fall on his elbows, closer now to her body. “But still,” he kissed her cheek.
His vast chest was so close to hers that each breath spread delicious friction to her breasts.
“It might hurt just a little,” he murmured in her ear, adjusting their bodies softly.
She felt him now, tangled with her body, nested between her legs, his hardness resting on her inner thigh. She jolted, and her fingers fisted the sheets.
“Trust me, Bella,” he whispered. “Just relax and trust me.”
His voice was more tender now, low like a purr. Her body relaxed instantly, and she looked up to him with an open look.
“Good, Bella.”
There was heat in his voice and look, but it had turned protective, stable, like the intense stance he had in his life was now wholly directed at her. Slowly, he pushed up, his manhood aligned with her still pulsing core. Arabella gasped. He stopped instantly, caressing her face, putting a strand of hair stuck to her forehead aside.
“Breathe, Bella, breathe for me,” he said.
Arabella inhaled and slowly let it out.
“My good, brave girl.”
He looked down at where they were joining with an enthralled expression, his own breathing coming in more shallow, his teeth grazing his lower lip. And as he pushed, his head fell slightly back at the intensity, before he focused back on her. Arabella felt him in her most intimate place, between her folds, and she was caught between need and overwhelm.
“That’s it,” he cooed, his eyes diving into hers. “You are doing so well, Bella.”
He moved, and she bit her lip at feeling him enter her. He was so careful, so slow, so devastatingly slow. But she could tell he was struggling to keep his control, his body tense, almost trembling from the effort to keep it in check.
“Just breathe, Bella,” he said.
One final thrust, and he was deep inside her. Her body was filled to the brim, and her mouth fell open. Oh, there was a moment. That moment when pain met pleasure, when there was a pang of hurt, but it didn’t last long.
He didn’t move, letting her adjust to him. And when he realized that she did, he pulled back just enough, not completely withdrawing, and with the slow pace, he entered her again. He kept his rhythm slow, getting to know her. She could see his intense gaze savoring her every move, taking note of what gave her the most pleasure.
Arabella couldn’t sit still anymore. Her hands roamed his chest, and then she went up his shoulders and to his neck. She pulled him closer, and without knowing, she begged him with her body for more.
“That is good,” he said, and the grip on her hips tightened.
He picked up his pace. Feeling her respond to his touch, still gushing and gasping, he turned his lazy strokes into deliberate movement. He leaned closer and took her lips with his in a fierce kiss. He felt his hips grinding against her, and the sound their bodies made was so wicked, but he didn’t care.
“Are you feeling alright, Bella?” he demanded.
It was clear that he was losing control of his body. She could read it in the way he kept biting his lips as if this little pain would help him focus. She also admitted seeing his rhythm stutter made her feel powerful. She began to slowly meet him with her own moves.
“This feels…” she uttered.
“I know, I know,” he ground out.
Something inside her stretched, tensed, her body a wound-up coil. And then she felt it. It was like something boiling over, spilling, filling her with an intense sweetness that made her body arc into him.
“Gerald!”
