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But resisting was futile. As futile as the tide resisting the draw of the moon. There was no help for it; the end was inevitable. She was Ian’s wife, and he set her pulse to pattering in a way only he was capable of.

There was no sin in this, no shame, except the degradation she felt at having been called a strumpet by her new husband. That hurt intolerably. The stinging words coiled around her heart, opening a deep, painful wound that wouldn’t soon heal. A flush of humiliation stole over her. She’d no doubt she was as pink as the rose petals that had recently lain upon these same sheets.

Hearing a slight rustle, she popped her eyes open only to squeeze them shut again. Another blush warmed her entire body. He’d untied his banyan, letting it slip to the floor. Faith, she was no authority on the male form, but she was certain, the lean, well-muscled, naked man standing beside the bed was near perfection, except for…it.

The large member boldly protruding from his crisp dark loin hairs was what would join with her. Vangie knew it beyond a doubt. She opened her eyes a slit, peeping between her eyelashes. Surely his great size was an abnormality. She didn’t want to stare at his disfigurement, but Lord Almighty—

The breath slowly hissed from between Ian’s clenched teeth as he stood transfixed, unable to tear his gaze from the beauty of Vangie’s form. If eternity stood still, he’d not have time enough, nor have words eloquent enough, to describe what God had fashioned in such wondrous perfection. Was there anything as marvelous, as splendidly exquisite as the female body?

Her hair, a silky raven curtain, spilled across her sloping ivory shoulders to gently rounded hips. The blushing tips of her firm, round breasts peeked between the silky obsidian strands. Eyes pinched shut, she attempted to shield the tempting curly triangle cradled between silky thighs which tapered to delicate calves, well-turned ankles, and finally, to shapely feet.

He slid his gaze over the turn of her derrière, her narrow waist and flat stomach before traveling back and lingering on the luscious mounds flirting behind her hair. Unable to help himself, he parted the sheltering locks, sucking in another great gulp of air, as her perfect breasts lay exposed. He trailed a finger across one satiny breast, watching in fascinated wonder as the rosy nipple puckered.

Vangie shivered, though whether from trepidation or passion, Ian couldn’t be certain. He did know, he didn’t want her afraid. It had suddenly become very important that she want him as much as he desired her.

She opened her eyes, the merest trace of cautious curiosity in their beautiful depths. Delicate color lined her cheekbones, but she didn’t look away. She would experience pleasure with him like she had with no other. He’d brand her as his for all time. Sweeping his gaze over the length of his wife, an unfamiliar, fierce possessiveness seized his vitals.

She was his. No others—ever again.

Easing onto the bed, he drew her into his arms, letting her become accustomed to his touch.“Relax, sweeting,” he urged, his voice a husky rasp.He stroked her smooth skin with skilled fingers. A smile of smug satisfaction curved his mouth as he heard her sigh and the tension eased from her. “That’s it, love. Just enjoy this. I promise, I’ll stop whenever you say so.”

And he meant it. This was no longer about obedience or submission, but about pleasuring his new wife. Every woman should be cherished and adored on her wedding night.

He nibbled her neck and shoulders, his hands cupping and soothing a sensuous path over her full curves. Watching Vangie’s face, he trailed a finger across her cheek, then over her slender neck to the fullness of one breast. She arched into his hand. Though timid, she enjoyed his touch. Male pride surged through him. Leaning over her, he kissed her, running his tongue along the sweet seam of her lips.

She sighed again, unconsciously turning her head to allow him better access to her honeyed mouth. Ian wasted no time. He angled his head and deepened the kiss, until at his insistence her mouth opened to receive his tongue. He plunged into her inviting depths, reveling in her hesitant response.

Her tongue tentatively dueled with his.

Had no man taken the time to introduce her to the art of kissing? A growl rumbled deep in his chest. Selfish bastards. He’d remedy that tonight.

What in the world was Ian doing to her? Vangie felt as if the world tilted, and the oddest sensations centered in her most secret place. She ached to push her swollen breasts into his rough palm. When his tongue nudged its way inside her mouth, she thought she’d died and gone to heaven so exquisite was the sensation.

His fingers caressing her body ignited desire she’d not known she possessed. She felt alive in a sensuous, urgent way she didn’t understand. His experienced hands demanded a response, she realized with a start, she was only too eager to give.

She might’ve been reluctant initially, but she wanted this. Wanted to experience passion with Ian. Wanted to be his wife in every way.

Turning to her side, she slipped an arm around Ian’s torso, needing him closer, rejoicing in the bunching of his muscles at her inexperienced touch. She ran her fingertips across his firm flesh, delighting in the ridges beneath her tentative, exploring fingers. Nuzzling her nose into his neck, she inhaled his masculine scent.

“You smell good.”

Ian’s ministrations became bolder, and he lowered his head, teasing one nipple, encircling it with his tongue. Moaning, Vangie arched into him, hungry for his touch. The sensation of his lips and tongue on her breast created a frenzy of pulsating need only he could satisfy.

“More,” she groaned.

He chuckled, apparently happy to oblige her. He sucked the swollen flesh deep into his hot mouth.

Gripping his arms, she moaned her pleasure aloud, too far gone to be shocked at the noises she made. Her cries of pleasure seemed to fuel his desire.

Angling himself so he lay across her, his elbows bearing his weight, Ian sought her mouth once more. His fingers played across her ripe, ravenous body. She wriggled her hips beneath him, unmindfully asking him to complete the act. He groaned, deep and ragged, low in his throat. The primitive sound accelerated her pulse, and she opened her eyes.

He rolled her nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

“Yes, oh, yes, Ian.”

A smile of pure male dominance crept across his angular face. She shifted restlessly beneath him, and her bent knee brushed his engorged manhood. A strangled gasp escaped him. Gritting his teeth, the corded muscles of his neck straining, he buried his face against her shoulder.

“I had no idea it could be like this,” she whispered shyly.