He shifted, licking his way to her other breast, and tasted that nipple as well. At the same time, his thigh still pressed against her.
She arched up. “Oh, please, now.”
“Not yet,” he whispered, his breath blowing over her wet, sensitive nipple.
He raised himself on straight arms and brought both legs between hers. She was spread wide now, eager and waiting for the inevitable conclusion to this.
But it didn’t come. He reached down to position himself, laying his penis against her wet folds. Then he bore down, pressing himself against her most sensitive point.
She twisted, panting, under him. “What are you doing?”
His face was grim, the cross earring shining dully at the corner of his jaw. “I’m preparing you.”
She glared at him through slitted eyes. “I am prepared.”
His lips curled, not quite smiling. “Not yet.”
He bent and caught her lower lip between his teeth, gently biting as he rocked against her. And something combusted down there. A flame flickered and flared, growing steadily, spreading through her belly, threatening to burn out of control.
“Stop,” she cried, but her voice was muffled beneath his lips. He opened his mouth over hers and swallowed whole her moan of ecstasy.
“Now,” he said when he lifted his head. “Now it’s time. Put me where you want me to be.”
He caught her hand and brought it between their bodies, guiding her to his hard, slick flesh. He wrapped her fingers around his heat and then took his hand away. He looked at her. “It’s up to you.”
She blinked. “But I don’t know—”
“Do you want it?” Beads of sweat stood out on his upper lip. She realized that he was holding himself very still.
She licked her lips. “Yes.”
“Then”—he nudged her with his hips, his length sliding through her fingers, his eyes half closed—“do it.”
So she guided him to where she thought he should be, feeling the width of his head slip through her folds, wondering if this was quite possible. She looked up at him, into black, intense eyes, and for a fraction of a second thought she must’ve lost her mind.
Then he leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Are you sure?”
And that small bit of tenderness decided her. “Yes.”
He wasn’t gentle. He didn’t try to go slowly. He thrust himself inside her, quickly and violently, and her entire body arched with the pain. Burning. Tearing. Something wasn’t right.
She pressed her palms against his chest. “No.”
He looked down at her, his face drawn, the tattooed birds flying about his eye, wild and savage, and he no longer looked tender. He looked like a conqueror. “Too late. You’re mine now.”
And he withdrew his penis slowly, until only the head remained inside her, large and intrusive.
“You’re so soft, so tight around me,” he whispered like a demon incubus. His upper lip curled in erotic bliss. “I want to stay in you forever. I want to make love to you for an eternity.”
He thrust back into her, and although it hurt, it wasn’t as bad as the first time. He leaned down and touched the corner of her mouth with the tip of his tongue. “I can smell your sex, and it’s hot around me. You make me tremble with want.”
She touched his face, tracing the damp birds wonderingly. Was it true? Did he tremble for her? She’d never known, never dreamed she could affect him thus.
He closed his eyes as if in pain. “I’m trying to hold back, trying to go slow, but I can’t.” His head fell, his iron cross earring brushing her breast. “I can’t.”
And he thrust into her again, hard and fast. She gasped at the impact. It no longer hurt, but there wasn’t the same pleasure as there had been before when he’d used his thigh on her. She watched his face, hard and intent above her, and felt the slide of his flesh in hers. He was on her and in her, physically dominating her, but he seemed the more vulnerable one, and it fascinated her. His breathing was rough, coming in quick gasps; his eyes were unfocused and desperate, his mouth drawn in a line of desire. His body seemed to act of its own volition, as if he no longer controlled his movements.
She reached up to caress his cheek.