by Alexa Silver
“I would rather have a rabid dog over him,” she stated.
He winced. The wolf within him balked at the insult.
She came hesitantly around the cot. “You will be gentle with my deflowering?”
“I will let you set your own pace, milady,” he replied. “If at any time you wish me to stop, to slow, to go farther that is how it will be.” He put his hand over his heart. “It is my duty to please you. Your enjoyment is all that matters.”
She glanced at the cot.
“You won’t hurt me?” she asked.
“Now, that I cannot guarantee, milady,” he said. When she would have fled, he held out his hand. “Surely you know the act of deflowering carries with it a certain amount of discomfort for the female.”
She looked so frightened. “I had heard that, yes,” she acknowledged.
“That said, I will do everything within my power to make sure that discomfort is minimal. Never would I fall upon you and rut like a wild animal,” he promised.
“Unlike the Gravelord who would ravage me on sight,” she said through clenched teeth.
He wanted so badly to deny her charge but decided to bide his time, and the best way to distract her from her anger was to give her something to focus on.
He hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his pants and pushed them down his hips. What sprang to attention immediately got hers.
Chapter 4
She reached out to grab hold of the iron rail at the foot of the cot.
“Come to me, milady,” he ordered gently, stepping out of his pants. “Come and take what is yours.”
She swallowed hard but found that did not rid her of the moisture flooding her mouth. There was a word for what she was doing as she stared at him. The word was salivating.
“Milady?” he questioned.
Naked, she thought. Naked as the day he was born. She couldn’t tear her eyes from all that primal naked male beauty.
He took a step toward her.
She whimpered.
He took another step.
She ceased to breathe.
He stood right in front of her.
“Put your hands on me,” he said in a husky voice. “Touch me.”
Her hand shook as she lifted it to place her splayed fingers on the hard mound of his left pectoral. Beneath her palm she could feel the steady beat of his heart.
“My heart beats for you,” he said as though he’d read her mind. He reached up to cover her hand with his. “For you and for no other.”
She stood there for a moment, staring into his gorgeous eyes then nodded, her mind made up, her resolve set. She slipped her hand from beneath his.
“Then make of me a woman, Senti,” she said. His slow, knowing smile made her womb clench.
“With the greatest of pleasures, milady,” he replied and lowered his hands to the cincture that held her robe in place.
Slowly he untied the braided silk belt then let it drop to the floor at their feet. She thought he would pull the robe over her head but instead he slid his palms to either side of her cheeks to tilt her head up.
“You are the most beautiful woman in the Megaverse to me,” he told her. “My heart, my soul, my life is yours.”
Before she could reply, he lowered his mouth to hers.
His lips were demanding as he kissed her. It wasn’t a deep kiss—certainly not like those of which she’d dreamed—but it was a possessive kiss, a claiming kiss. A kiss that whispered a thousand words.
But it did not last nearly long enough for her. When he moved back with those devastatingly sensual eyes staring down at her, she had never felt so frustrated. Her entire body ached, burned, needed his.
She knew what the act of sex entailed. She had been instructed—as had all the Daughters—in what happened when a man took a woman. Though until today she had not known just how imposing a man’s body could be or how powerful the appendage that thrust from his groin, she longed to experience its command.
“And you will,” he said.
He spread his hands down her neck, across her shoulders until his fingers were wrapped firmly around her upper arms. He pulled her against him and once more put his lips to hers. This time the kiss was deeper, firmer, filled with desire. She felt his tongue pressing at the seam of her lips and instinctively parted them for him. He took possession of her mouth with a surety that made her moan. Against her belly she felt his shaft flex.
“He wants you,” he whispered. “I want you.”
He tilted his head to the side to begin bestowing kisses along the line of her jaw then down her neck. The pressure of his lips made her tingle. The wash of his hot breath over her flesh made her knees weak. Around her the loose fitting robe was becoming too hot to tolerate. Her body was on fire. She could feel a light sheen of perspiration forming on her brow.
“Let’s rid you of this impediment,” he said and stepped back just far enough that he could gather the sides of her robe in his hands. He pulled the garment up and over her head then tossed it aside.
Now she stood before him clad only in the sleeveless undergown fashioned from soft linen. The sheath was formfitting and thin enough that she knew he could see the darkness at her nipples and thighs.
He smoothed his hands down her bare arms then took possession of her waist. His slow smile was almost predatory.
“I can span this little waist with my hands,” he said and did just that. His strong fingers met behind her and his thumbs in front. The heat of his palms on her sides brought a flood of moisture between her legs. When he slid one hand over to her belly, she quivered from head to toe as he pressed lightly.
He pressed a bit harder and a strange sensation filled her lower body. The compression centered something needful between her legs. He rubbed her belly then lowered his hand to cup her gently where that need burned brightest.
She let her head fall back. Her breaths came quicker, shallower as he caressed her in a way she had never touched herself.
Never dared to for it was forbidden.
As he stroked her slowly back and forth he put his mouth to the place where her neck and shoulder met. A wild ripple undulated through her. Her knees gave way but he swept his free arms around her to hold her up. His tongue swept over her skin. His shaft pressed against her belly.
“I ache for you,” he whispered. “Give yourself to me and only me.”
She brought her arms up to wrap them around his neck. She wanted to know the pleasure of holding his strong body. She wanted to mold her mouth over his, to do to him what he was doing to her.
“Yes,” she said on a long sigh.
There came a low growl from deep in his throat then his fingers clenched into the fabric at her hips. He pulled the sheath up her legs, her thighs. She expected him to drag it over her head but that was not his intent. She felt his bare foot kick lightly against her ankle.
“Open,” he said, pressing against her foot until she moved it aside.
He pressed against the other foot and she widened her stance further. The arm holding her tightened roughly a second before the hand at her hip slid between her legs and a rough, calloused palm touched her bare sex.
“Oh!” she gasped, writhing in his grip. She would have pushed him away but he lightly sank his teeth into her flesh where her neck and shoulder met to prevent her from moving.
He stroked her in that secret, aching place as she squirmed against him. Though she mentally ordered her hands to shove him back, her fingers had a mind of their own. They dug into his bare shoulders. To her horror, she brought one leg up to hook her foot behind his knee. She heard his low chuckle.
“Bastard,” she said but knew she didn’t mean it for he was kissing his way down her chest and she knew the destination of his devilish mouth.
The moment his teeth clamped around her nipple through the fabric of the sheath, she was lost.
And happily so.
He was rubbing her vigorously now in counterpoint to a quick stab of his tongue to her n
ipple. Her body was on fire. Her blood was racing. Her head swimming. She spiked her fingers in his hair and held him tightly to her breast, trembling as pressure and need built in her lower body. When she thought she could take no more, he released her, stepped back.
“No!” she denied, reaching for him but he shook his head, batted her hands away.
One look at his glittering, hot eyes and the breath caught in her throat.
He didn’t drag the sheath from her body. He grabbed the bodice and ripped it down the middle. Her gasp seemed to spur him on, for he yanked the torn material down her shoulders then snapped her to him with a violence that thrilled her to the very marrow of her being.
Mouth slashing over hers, naked flesh molding to hers, arms confining her, he lifted her from the floor and took three steps to the cot. One knee to the thin mattress, he lowered her onto the rough wool blanket then stretched out his body atop her. His head lowered and he drew her nipple between his lips and he thrust his hands beneath her rump. He pushed her legs apart with his knees until she was completely exposed and his shaft pressed into her belly.
“Merciful Alluvia!” she groaned. The sensations bombarding her were coming too quickly to assimilate. Her body was nothing more than a bundle of nerve endings. She writhed beneath his assault as his finger dug into her flesh.
From one nipple to the other. Teeth scraping across the swollen points. Tongue laving. Strong suction pulling, tugging until she was gasping for breath.
Heat flooded her lower body. An ache she’d never experienced pushed at her core. Flesh pebbled with goose bumps and belly quivering, she ran her hands over his shoulders, down his arms.
“Lift your legs,” she heard him say. “Lock them around me.”
She did as he ordered—ferociously so—and he grunted as she constricted his waist.
“Easy, baby,” he said. “I gotta breathe here.”
Only marginally relaxing her grip on him for she was too lost in the sensations rippling through her. She itched between her legs. She ached there. She burned there. She was wet. His shaft was sliding along her core, adding to the slickness.
He snapped his hips forward, withdrew, thrust again—stroking her between the legs with his manhood—then pulled back. He did it over and over again as he sucked on her nipple, flicked his tongue over the sensitive peak then caught it between his teeth.
“Oh!” she cried out as he worked the nipple gently.
Something was happening at the juncture of her thighs. The itching increased along with a hot pressure that pushed against her core. She felt compelled to meet him push for push, arching her hips in invitation.
“Come for me, Jordan,” he mumbled against her breast. “Come for me.”
She had no idea where he wanted her to come. Or why. He lifted her rump from the mattress and increased the speed of his glides along her folds. She dug her fingers into his hair. She squeezed him between her thighs. She began to pant.
Heat rushed through her lower body in waves then the most divine, sublime, transcendent feeling tightened her inner muscles. The feeling pulsed, rippled, undulated through her with such intensity she screamed. The strong quickenings seemed to go on and on until she thought she would lose her mind with the exacting pleasure that had suddenly gripped her. Despite the intense desire shifting through her, she could not help but think something was missing.
“That’s it,” he said. With one last glide of his cock between her legs he stilled and she realized he was trembling.
Violently so. When he raised his head, let it fall back, she saw a muscle bunched tightly in his lean jaw. His eyes were squeezed tightly shut. He seemed to be struggling.
She felt boneless, limp and—oddly enough—incredibly satisfied. Drowsy, depleted but infinitely at peace, she ran her hands up and down his tense arms.
He growled fiercely and she quickly removed her hands, thinking she had somehow angered him.
“Senti?” she questioned.
He growled then snatched his hands from under her. Bracing himself on his clenched fists, he hovered there above her.
“Did I do something wrong?”
He shook his head but his lips were clamped so firmly together the only sound he made was an unh unh sound from deep in his throat. His breathing was so harsh, so erratic she feared she had hurt him in some way.
“Did I hurt you?”
“Please. Be. Quiet,” he pleaded. He shuddered then slowly lowered his body to hers. He turned his head to lay his cheek against her shoulder with his arms at his sides.
Afraid to touch him again—though she wanted desperately to put her arms around him—she lay still as his rigid body covered hers. They lay like that for several minutes before he seemed to regain his composure and control.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
He stirred, pushed himself up to stare down at her.
“For what, machree?” he asked.
“For whatever I did to upset you,” she said. She had the strongest desire to sweep back the lock of curly hair that had fallen across his forehead.
“You didn’t upset me,” he said. He rolled off her, brought his hand up to gently caress her cheek. “I had to get my passion under control else I would have thrust into you.”
She stared at him. “You didn’t?”
“No, love,” he said. He ran the pad of his thumb over her bottom lip. “If I had, you would have felt it.”
“Then what I felt wasn’t—” She lowered her voice. “It wasn’t sex?”
“No,” he replied. “It was an orgasm. That is the byproduct of the act.”
“I’m still a virgin?” she asked.
“Aye, you are.”
She wanted to hit him. “Well, that sucks!” she snapped. “I thought you had deflowered me. I thought that was what I was feeling.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “You said it would hurt and it did!”
He frowned. “I hurt you?” he queried. “In what way did I hurt you, milady?”
“It ached, Sentinel!” she hissed. “It ached and it burned and it itched and it felt as though I was coming apart inside.”
He had the audacity to smile at her then chuckle.
“What’s so funny?” she demanded.
“Milady it was pleasurable, was it not?” he countered.
“Yes, but—”
“And you would like to experience it again but with whatever was missing added?”
“How did you know I thought something was missing?”
He took her hand and brought it to his shaft, molded her fingers around it. “This is what was missing, milady. This is what makes the pleasure a hundred times more intense.”
Looking down at his manhood, she wasn’t sure she could survive a sensation that was a hundred times more intense and not shatter completely. Even as the thought went through her mind she realized she was gripping his manhood. A part of her demanded she release him immediately while another part refused to let her.
“It’s hard,” she said, fascinated by the length, the breadth and shape of him.
“Aye, it is,” he said. “Trust me, you would not like it any other way.”
She ran her hand down the thick column. The texture of his shaft was like velvet over steel she thought. Heat pulsing through it along with the steady beat of his heart.
“This is what makes babies,” she said, fingering the dewy drop at the tip.
He swallowed audibly as his body tensed. “Aye,” he whispered as though he were in pain.
She looked up at him. “Senti?” she questioned.
“I ache for you,” he explained. “I held back my release and now I am in agony here, milady.”
“You want to be inside me,” she said quietly.
“More than I have ever wanted anything,” he acknowledged. “But first I need to taste you.”
Before she could ask what that meant, he slithered down to the foot of the cot until his feet touched the floor. With one mighty sweep, he took hold of her hips and pulled her
down to him as he dropped to his knees.
“What are you doing?” she gasped when he hooked her legs over his shoulders, shoved his hands under her rump and lifted her.
Totally unprepared for the hot, wet lap of his tongue between her legs, she squealed. She grabbed his thick hair in a tight hold. His pained grunt didn’t register for the sensations flooding her lower body were so intense she thought her head would explode.
He spread her apart, flicked his tongue against her. Fluttering it along the folds. Licking her. Stabbing into her core. Tingling fire was leaping all over her thighs. For some strange reason her heels were itching like mad and she dug them into the mattress.
“Like creamy honey,” she heard him say.
That tickling, burning sensation was building within her again. She dropped her hands to his shoulders so she could not be tempted to tug brutally on his hair when the dam burst once more. Writhing, squirming beneath his warm mouth she locked her legs behind his head—trapping him against her—as the sensation became more intense, more unbridled. When his lips closed over her and his teeth grazed whatever it was he had found, she arched her back and the pleasure undulated through her.
Once.
Twice.
Three times it pulsed within her. The enjoyment was no less potent than the first time she felt it. Sinking down into the warm bliss that had overtaken her, she reached out to stroke his hair.
“I had no idea,” she whispered. “This could be so satisfying.”
He said nothing but gently eased her legs from him, put his hands to her waist and scooted her up the bed—putting his knee on the cot for leverage. Once he had her where her head was on the pillow, he placed his body above hers, and braced himself above her on the heels of his hands so that only the lower parts of their bodies touched.
“Relax, milady,” he said, nudging her legs apart with his.
She could feel the stabbing heat of his shaft pressing against her core. He reached down to place its tip at her entrance.
“Relax,” he said. “Let your arms and legs melt into the mattress.”
She tried to relax but she was anticipating the pain he had told her would come as a part of him making her a woman. Her threshold for discomfort was very low.