To her relief, he finished wiping and drying her face, then tapped her lightly on the nose in a gesture more friendly than loverlike. “Take heart, lass. I am only intent on bedding you, not murdering you.”
She smiled faintly, as he’d meant her to do, which diminished the tension a small measure.
He stepped back then to undress. His eyes never leaving her, he drew off his jacket and then his fine linen shirt.
Sabrina caught her breath. It unnerved her, he was so very male, all corded muscles and bronzed skin. Like a lover’s seeking caress, the flickering candlelight found the blue-black glints scattered in the light fur of his chest.
“No, don’t look away,” he commanded when she would have averted her gaze. “Watch.”
His beautiful body drew her eyes once more. He had the finest pair of shoulders she’d ever seen, yet her nervousness grew as he removed the rest of his clothing, article by article. All too soon it was done and he turned to face her fully, standing with a relaxed nudity before her, the image of virile strength.
He was narrow of hip and powerful of leg, but she was faintly shocked to see his arousal, pulsing and erect, between his sinewed thighs.
His eyes met hers. Bold eyes, bright eyes. Eyes curiously measuring.
“So, sweeting…are you frightened by your new husband’s physique?”
She shivered. All that bronzed, hair-roughened masculinity spoke of savage pleasures. “I suppose…all those women could not have been deceived. It must not be too painful or frightening…or all your conquests would have protested long ere now.”
“Indeed. I am just a man, sweeting. I shan’t harm you.”
Just a man. Such a remarkable understatement.
“I own myself amazed at your modesty. I never would have expected it from you.”
He chuckled, a low sound rich in pleasure. “Termagant,” he replied, but the word was a soft caress, a satin promise.
An emotion something like despair curled around Sabrina’s heart as she felt herself succumbing to his spell. Niall needed no steel or pistol to force past her defenses, only the rapier-sharp edge of his erotic charm.
She moistened her lips, which she realized was a mistake.
His gaze lowered from hers to linger on the soft curves of her mouth. “It is time, sweeting.”
She could hear the sharp sound of her own breathing in the potent quiet of the beautiful room.
Their gazes locked, and something heated and intense passed between them.
He moved toward her slowly, his eyes warm with desire. Or was that merely the product of her wishful thinking? Her heart hammering, Sabrina stood waiting.
His hand lightly caressed the silk of her hair as it cascaded about her shoulders. For all his expertise, Niall found himself taking a deep breath. He had never attempted to seduce a woman who was without some measure of experience. Sabrina was innocent of the demands a man could make on a woman’s body, and he had to go slowly.
His hand cupped her throat…lingered…then glided downward, slipping beneath the swansdown to push the lapels aside, baring her beauty. She had exquisite breasts, small and round and high, tipped with rose nipples, hardened now into tight buds of desire. His fingertips made a slow, circular motion around one distended peak, making her gasp softly.
Desire flared through his senses at the helpless sound.
He wanted her. He wanted to savor the silk of her hair and warmth of her skin. He wanted to touch her and watch her moan, to wrap those long legs around his waist and plunge hot and deep inside her, to draw out the passionate woman she kept hidden. He wanted her beneath him as he took his pleasure and gave her exquisite pleasure in return.
He kissed her fleetingly, a delicate brush of warm lips that left her stunned and wanting.
“Come, sweetheart,” he whispered. “Come.”
Then he took her hand and led her to the bed.
Sabrina’s heart beat erratically. After enduring so many nights of erotic dreams and suppressed desires, she was about to discover precisely what the poets and dreamers glorified, but that women rarely enjoyed and often feared.
Hesitating, she glanced up at Niall. His face was so beautiful, its chiseled planes dark and absorbed. “I don’t know what to do….”
He smiled. “Then I’ll show you.”
He stood behind her while his arms glided around her waist, and unfastened the hooks of her dressing gown. She felt the silk shimmer over her skin as the garment dropped to the floor, felt his naked warmth at her back.
His teeth grazed her ear, making her shiver. “Lie on the bed, love, facedown.”
His hands gently prodded her, but she needed no urging to climb onto the huge bed, her knees trembled so. Willingly she moved to the middle, leaving him a wide berth.
The mattress sank beneath his weight. Rigid, Sabrina waited, beset by tumultuous feelings. When she felt him lean over her, she pressed her face into the pillows.
His hand ran lightly over her arm, his touch lingering and provocative. He seemed aware of her fear, of her hot, flushed skin and acutely sensitive nerves.
“Do you know what happens between a man and woman when they make love?” he asked softly as he began lazily stroking her spine.
“I…think I am to sit on your…lap.”
“That is one way, though not the most customary.”
“It seems to be your position of choice the times I have interrupted you.”
“True, tiger.” Warm laughter spiced his voice. “But you are not ready for that just yet. The usual way is breast to breast. You lie on your back and I ease myself between your thighs. I will show you how, sweeting. And you will see it is the most sublime experience in the world.”
Dry-mouthed, light-headed, Sabrina lay acquiescent. “I thought…only men enjoyed the…the act.”
“Who told you that?”
“My cousin. She…her husband…”
“Your cousin is to be pitied, then. A considerate lover doesn’t seek only his own release.”
“Release?”
“You will see.”
Sabrina’s brow furrowed at the novel idea that her cousin Frances was to be pitied. Was it possible that her feckless suitor Oliver was not so considerate a lover?
“I am going to please you, Sabrina.” Niall’s husky murmur made her forget any thought of her past pain. He caressed her spine, his roving hand lingering, as if savoring the feel of her skin. “You are so lovely…I want to learn every sweet inch of you….”
His hand glided lower…over her back…along the rise of her buttock…the slender length of her thigh…all the way down her leg to the curve of her ankle. Sabrina arched her back a little at the delicate warmth inundating her senses.
To her surprise, he shifted his body, bending to kiss the lower part of her calf. His lips moved in a light murmur over her skin, tracing the reverse path his palm had made. His silky black hair fell forward to brush her skin, heightening the sensation.
How expert he was, she thought dazedly. Every caress justified his reputation for finesse and more.
Her breath caught like warm liquid in her lungs when his mouth found the back of her knee. She had never before realized how incredibly sensitive that particular spot was.
His exploration continued, slow and ruthlessly thorough, rousing an exquisite languor that stole through her limbs. In some dazed corner of her mind, Sabrina realized he was winning…melting her resistance, destroying any will to fight.
“Niall…” she whispered his name in protest.
“What, sweeting?”
“I…I am so hot…”
“Not hot enough.” His voice was soft, husky, stroking like mystical fingers through her. “I want you feverish…all wanton and trembling for me.” His delicate kisses resumed, his mouth playing over her skin, all the while his hands kept up their magic.
“You don’t yet know how much pleasure your body can give you, but you will…I intend to teach you. I will fire your blood until you moan my n
ame and forget everything but how good it feels between us.”
He was already teaching her, Sabrina thought as she shifted restlessly. Dear God, what was happening to her? How could she bear this tight ache in her breasts, this brazen heat uncoiling between her thighs, this hot, shameless need?
It was some moments before she realized his ministrations had ceased. Slowly her eyelids fluttered open. Even more slowly she turned her face on the pillow to look at him.
He had stretched out beside her, and was gazing at her with a compelling tenderness in his eyes. “Now, ’tis your turn.”
“M-Mine?”
“Aye, to arouse me. Touch me, sweet Sabrina,” he murmured, his voice rich and commanding.
He remained relaxed and still, while she found the courage to obey. Tentatively she stretched out her hand to touch his shoulder, feeling the smooth shifting pattern of muscle beneath the sleek velvet of his skin. When she would have faltered, he reached up and clasped her hand, drawing her palm against his breast.
The center of his chest was covered with a triangle of silky-looking black hair, and her fingers tingled as they brushed the soft fur.
“Look at me,” he demanded in the lush quiet.
Her heart skipped a beat. Even as he drew her hand lower, he rolled onto his back, letting her see all of him.
Sabrina drew a sharp breath at the raw power of his male body. His erection lay arched against his belly, reaching nearly to his navel. He was huge. The sheer masculinity disturbed her more than his size.
With gentle relentlessness, he moved her hand downward, over his abdomen, flat and ridged with muscle, till her fingers curled around his rigid member, hot steel covered with soft velvet.
“’Tis…unnatural, touching you this way,” she protested in a hoarse whisper.
A slow, sensual brilliant smile curved his mouth. “Ah, no, sweetheart. ’Tis natural as breathing. Do you feel what you do to me?”
“I…I’ve done nothing….”
“Indeed you have. A man swells and grows hard as his desire mounts. And as you see, your attractions fascinate me.”
Rolling on his side, he slid his hand between her thighs. Ignoring her soft intake of breath, he bared her velvet to his fingers.
“A lass, on the other hand…grows wet and slick with her own honey.” He slipped a finger into her cleft. “See…your body is preparing itself to receive me.” His voice was tender, his golden-throated words spellbinding. “Will you receive me, sweeting?”
He waited for her response. When she nodded tentatively, he reached for her and drew Sabrina to him, pulling her into his arms so that all her pale softness was enfolded in his powerful embrace. Her pebbled, rose-tipped breasts pressed against his naked chest; her stomach pillowed the rock-hard flesh at his groin.
His member was intimidating, and yet strangely, as she gazed into his blue, blue eyes, she felt no fear, but rather an unfamiliar, quivering sense of intimacy. She lay there willingly, absorbing the hard, warm strength of him, feeling the strong beat of his heart, the burning of his flesh against hers. She wanted this. She wanted Niall to show her what it felt to be a woman. And she could almost believe, as she lay trembling in his arms, that the dark light she saw in his eyes reflected her desire.
He kissed her then, with the same exquisite languor he had shown before, enveloping her senses in the smell of him. He had a deliciously wicked kiss, so passionate, so thoroughly devouring that she could think of nothing but Niall and the powerful sensations he aroused in her. He pulled her dewy lower lip between his teeth, nipping the soft flesh, while his thigh rode intimately between hers.
Sabrina bit back a moan, trying to control her breathing, trying to deny the pulsing need. Yet all the while his long-fingered hands continued stroking her body, working a wicked sorcery on her.
A moment later, Niall heard her soft whimper with satisfaction. He could have resorted to even more provocative methods to arouse her, he knew. He could have called on his vast experience, employing any of his myriad carnal skills to drive her to heights of desire she’d never known, till she hungered to do his bidding. Yet she was not just another of his casual lovers. She was his wife, a lovely innocent who had a right to expect more from him. He desperately wanted her first time to be filled with pleasure. And he wanted her first climax to be with him inside her.
Deliberately he eased over her, spreading her thighs and positioning his throbbing shaft. Poised at her slick entrance, he hesitated, feeling the vulnerable, trembling feminine body beneath him. He didn’t want to hurt her, but this one instance could not be helped.
His blue eyes like jewels, he whispered, “Take me in, love…sheathe me in your dark silk…”
He pressed home then, thrusting slowly, carefully inside her, feeling her flesh stretch to accommodate his size, all the while watching her flushed face. She seemed determined to bear whatever agony he had in store for her.
He knew she felt pain, for her lips parted for an instant as she grimaced. But then suddenly she clenched her teeth and arched her hips, bravely thrusting against him to split the barrier that was denying him entrance, impaling herself on his shaft.
Niall felt his heart stop. The poignancy of the gesture was shattering to him. Yet all he could do was wait till the pain subsided. When she squeezed her eyes shut, he gently kissed her lids, her brow, the curve of her cheek, murmuring sweet unintelligible words, telling her it was all right, that the hurt would go away.
Protecting her from his full weight, he lay inside her, intoxicated by a restless passion. The heavy, throbbing sensation of his flesh was a fierce ache that clawed at him. For the sake of her sensibilities, however, he kept his hunger tightly leashed.
He could feel when her tautness eased a little. She was growing accustomed to the alien intrusion.
“Better?” The question was soft, muted, and she answered in kind, a breathy little rasp.
“Yes…I…think so.”
“Let me know when you feel well enough to proceed.”
“There…is more?”
“Oh, yes, much, much more. But the worst is over, I promise you. The rest is only pleasure.”
“I seem to recall you said that before.”
“If I shielded you from the stark truth, it was to ease your fear.”
Sabrina could feel the feather touch of his lips on her throat. She drew a deep breath. “You…may proceed.”
“I am in no hurry, cherie,” he lied. “We have the entire night together. We can take this slowly. And you are in control.”
“I? But…I don’t know what to do.”
“Move your hips a little.”
She moved against him experimentally. Her pulse leaped when it seated his shaft more fully within her.
“What did you feel?”
A flicker of fire, Sabrina wanted to answer, though she didn’t quite know how to express it.
He saw her confusion and smiled. With infinite care, he increased the pressure of his sinewed granite thighs, fitting his body even more closely as he filled her.
“I want you,” he murmured huskily.
Sabrina felt a searing sweetness at his tantalizing words. He moved his hips then and withdrew slowly, stroking her with his long length. Sabrina gasped.
“Did that hurt?”
“N-No.” Somewhere between the first wild heartbeat and the second the pain had disappeared and excitement had taken its place.
“Do you want me to stop?”
“No.” Her breathless whisper was an imperative. After a consoling pause, he thrust again, progressing slow inches at a time into her lush, heated interior.
He felt her velvet tremors clutch his manhood.
“Yes…that’s it…love. Give in to it. Let me feel your pleasure.”
“I cannot…” she whispered hoarsely, yearning for something unfathomable, just out of reach.
“Aye, you can.”
Obligingly, he began moving gently inside her, pampering, coddling, arousing her with ten
derness, yet holding his own passion leashed with tight restraint.
Sabrina closed her eyes as the fire between her thighs burned higher. Her head fell back and she whimpered, a trembling pleasure sound.
Deliberately he increased the sensuous rhythm. Her reserve, her shyness changed then. Sensing it, Niall bent his head to kiss her, refusing to let her retreat from passion. His tongue plundered her mouth, mimicking the thrust of the shaft between her thighs.
An agony of longing swept through Sabrina, and she clung to him, instinctively matching his rhythm. When she moaned, he continued his relentless assault, coaxing her with his hands, his mouth, his hard body.
“Yes, tremble for me, love. Moan for me.”
She was so feverish beneath him, frantically shuddering near the brink. The next time he drove gently into her, she sobbed, but he would not let up. Demanding her complete surrender, he thrust again.
Stunned, she arched up, straining wildly, striving to escape the desire that was drowning her, clawing through her. He moved once more and all her senses shattered. She convulsed beneath him, twisting, crying out, clutching blindly at his shoulders, oblivious to her scratching nails and wrenching grip.
Niall felt each sharp little cut, each wracking tremor of the impassioned woman clinging to him with such feverish strength. With every stab of her budded nipples against his chest, every soft surge of her thighs, fiery sensations ripped through him. But he would not give in. His lips drinking her wild moans, he held her vibrant, pulsating body against his own.
When it was over for her, he lay rigid and still, his own savage need held barely in check. She was weeping softly, with a turbulence of emotion, and he felt his heart wrench. She needed time to absorb what had happened to her, yet it had gone too far. He could not stop the throbbing of his body or the tempestuous passion burning through his senses.
He gritted his teeth, fighting against the hot tide of his desire, but he found it impossible to hold back the rampant hunger. Calling on all his control, he shuddered convulsively, groaning at the first drenching rush of sensation, even while trying to quiet the jerking movements of his body. His eyes shut against the wild delirium, until the galvanic, peaking splendor burst through him and he pulsed into her in an explosion of white-hot need.
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