“Nay, Garrick, I—”
His lips crushed hers, tearing the breath from her lungs, robbing her of any thought of protest. She felt the sweet pressure of his hand against the small of her back, forcing her to feel him, all of him, muscle to muscle, flesh to flesh.
One hand caught in her hair, and he raked his fingers through the long black strands, gently forcing her head back so that he could caress the arched column of her throat. His lips and tongue were wet and hot against her skin, and the female beast within her, a fiery but long dormant creature, began to yawn and stretch, sending flames of lust through her veins. Her blood pounded, and her skin quivered as his mouth delved lower still to the neck of her tunic.
Her breasts began to ache, and her nipples hardened in expectation. Slowly, with his weight, he drew her to the ground. His mouth found hers again, and one hand cupped her throat, gently touching the pulse, causing the female beast within her to break free. As the creature moved inside her, it created a deep, hot void. Morgana arched upward, silently begging for more of the bittersweet rapture of his touch.
Garrick complied, drawing her tunic over her shoulder and kissing her exposed skin. He groaned against her, and again she bucked upward. “You are so willing?” he rasped as a large hand scaled her ribs, one at a time.
“I want — Ooh.”
His hand cupped her breast, feeling its weight, rubbing the soft fabric of her tunic over her taut nipple. “Tell me what you want,” he said, but before she could answer, he stretched out beside her, and covered her breasts with his mouth. His tongue, held at bay by her clothes, sought to taste and stroke her. He groaned, and his muscles strained. The fabric of her tunic became wet and hot. Damp fibers grazed her nipple until she cried out with frustrated desire.
He didn’t waste any time, but stripped her of the clothing and lay atop her. “Ahh, woman,” he whispered in awe as he stared down at her breasts. She wanted to cover up, but didn’t move as his eyes roved across the firm white skin with only a few veins showing through. Her nipples rose proudly — small, hard buds that puckered beneath his stare. He touched her tenderly, almost reverently, massaging her breasts while still dressed, he straddled her. “You are Strahan’s woman,” he whispered, in a tormented voice that trembled. His entire body shook, and she knew that he was fighting a losing battle with desire.
“I’m no man’s woman.”
“But I promised—”
“Tonight I am my own woman,” she said boldly and rose upward, clasping a hand behind his neck, feeling the brush of his hair against her knuckles.
With a groan of surrender, he slid down her body, his legs still surrounding her, lowering his head until his mouth found her naked breasts. His tongue darted forward, flicking her nipple, and she arched upward again, wanting more … so much more. Lying with him was dangerous, she knew, but she couldn’t stop herself. His breath was a fan to the already rampant fire of her desire. He suckled at her breast hungrily, like a starved babe. Again she cried out, closing her eyes against the stars shooting across the sky. He massaged her rump with one hand, holding her close to him so that his hardness, through his breeches, was pressed deep into the yielding flesh of her abdomen. Desire flowed through her veins to moisten the cleft between her legs. She could feel her female parts, awakened as they were.
He lowered himself further, his tongue darting in and out of her navel, his fingers creating a sweet magic against her buttocks. She gasped as he prodded her legs apart and probed deep into her womanhood. Her eyes flew open, and she stared up at him as he touched her. His eyes were glazed, and sweat collected on his upper lip. “Stop me,” he whispered, but her hands found the hem of his shirt. His gaze was tortured, but his eyes burned with a desire so hot that she knew he was fighting vainly against his passion. “You’re a virgin.”
“Aye,” she murmured, her voice a faint whisper.
“You should save yourself—”
“Aye.” But she pulled his lips back to hers and kissed him like a wanton, her tongue seeking his. He growled deep in his throat and then returned her kiss with a hunger so raw that he shook. He yanked off his clothes, ripping seams as he made himself naked, his muscles gleaming in the moonglow.
She had never seen a naked man before, and the sight of him was an aphrodisiac. Sinewy muscles, some bearing scars, moved fluidly, his eyes glittered with unbridled passion, and an animal musk scented the air. He straddled her briefly and she saw his manhood, hard and erect, as he poised himself over her.
He pressed her knees apart with his own and, after only a second’s hesitation, plunged deep into her waiting nest of moist black curls.
Pain knifed through her, and she cried out, her eyes flying open as her maidenhood was ruptured. Panic streamed through her blood, but Garrick held her close, folding his arms around her as she caught her breath. “It will hurt for you but a second, little one,” he said against her ear, and slowly the pain subsided.
He kissed her, moldi
ng his lips to hers as he began to move within her, slowly at first, until she began to respond, her hips catching his rhythm, her fingers digging into his shoulders. The heat within her swelled, and she closed her eyes against the pressure that was building deep inside her. This was Garrick, her foe, her lord, her lover. Her breathing was short and shallow, her mind spinning in circles that blurred the stars and moon.
An explosion, like the very earth shuddering, ripped through her, sending shooting stars into splintering fragments behind her eyelids. She felt him stiffen before throwing back his head and calling her name as he plunged into her one last time, spilled his seed, and collapsed upon her body.
“Morgana,” he whispered over and over again. “Morgana, Morgana…”
Instinctively she wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in the sweat-dampened crook of his neck. He smelled of the earth and musk, and he held her as if he were afraid she would escape him. Great convulsions rocked her, and she felt warm and dreamy in his arms. It was as if all the elements had come to this very spot — earth, air, water, and fire — swirling about them, wrapping them in a protective shield.
“Morgana.” His breathing was ragged and hot. Propping himself up on his elbow, he gently pushed the tangled strands of her hair off her face. “Did I hurt you?”
She shook her head and couldn’t stop the smile that teased her lips. “Do I look wounded?”
“No, but you were a virgin…” His eyes darkened, and his voice was edged with torment.
“Aye.”
“And I took that virginity from you.”
“Nay, Garrick, I gave it to you.” She stared up at him honestly, with no hint of regret.