Now it felt as if the blade had turned. And it was still too much. Still too deep. But it was pleasure he was drowning in rather than pain.
He gritted his teeth, so near the edge he wasn’t certain how long he could hold himself back from going over. But the idea of finishing like this horrified him. He couldn’t subject her to that. Her lips were on him. Surely that was not acceptable. Even he with his limited experience knew that.
He tightened his hold on her hair, tugging her backward. “Enough,” he said, “I cannot endure any more.”
“Good,” she said. “I want you inside me.”
Her words made his stomach pitch. “I’m not sure I can withstand it.” His voice was rough, his words honest.
“We can only try,” she said. Smooth, perfect Olivia. As always. She never seemed ruffled. Never seemed at sea.
He felt certain that he must make it a goal to see her as lost and desperate as he was.
He growled, pressing her back into the mattress, gripping her wrists and holding them above her head. Much like the voluntary position she had assumed earlier. He parted her legs roughly with his own, settling between her thighs. “I will do more than try,” he said.
He might be a virgin, but he was also a warrior. Was a man who led troops into battle. Toward death, and yet ensuring they never in fact met that darkest of demons.
Surely if he could march into a line of enemy soldiers, he could breach a woman’s body.
He kissed her neck, because she looked delicious and he wanted to, and she arched against him, her breasts pressing firmly into his chest, her hips tilting upward. The head of his arousal met against her slick entrance. Yet again it was as though a blade had twisted inside him, a new brand of pleasure and pain bursting through him.
He wanted nothing more than to sink into her. The promise of all that heat, so sweet and slick, sheathing his body, pushed him to the brink.
“Say you want this,” he ground out, his lips still pressed against her neck.
“Yes. Tarek. I want this. Please.” She lifted her hips off the bed, pressing herself more firmly against him.
And he couldn’t hold back any longer.
He pressed against the opening to her body and entered her slowly, gritting his teeth as she surrounded him. Inch by excruciating inch.
He trembled, burying his face in her neck as he tried to hold back the orgasm that was threatening to end this before it even began.
He thought back to his long years in the desert. Barren, dry years that stretched before him as far as he could see. Blank, pale sand meeting a washed-out sky.
He thought of all the years he’d been without touch. Without anyone to speak to. Anyone to hold him.
He was here now. And so was she. And he would be damned to hell if he let it end now.
This was his due. For every slash in his skin made by a blade. For every lash of the whip. Every moment he’d gone without food or water. So much deprivation. And here he was submerged in sensation. In her.
Now, for the first time, he would maintain control, not for the sake of anyone else. But for himself. Only for himself.
He lifted his head, looked down at her. Her eyes were closed, her lips parted, cheeks flushed. He lifted his hand, traced her lower lip with his thumb. Could feel his body respond, pulsing deep inside hers.
He kissed her mouth, relishing her flavor, relishing the moment.
And then his control slipped its leash. He couldn’t stay still any longer. He withdrew, before thrusting back in deep. Repeating the motion when she moaned, the sound spurring him on.
She wrapped her legs around his hips, arching against him, urging him on. She whispered in his ear. Pleas, cries. All in English. His brain lost the ability to translate, her words losing their meaning as he moved with her.
She met his every thrust, pressing hard against him when he was sheathed fully within her. She shook in his arms, coming apart completely, her internal muscles tightening down hard on him as she gave herself over to her release.
And then he let go. And he was falling over the edge.
Blood roared through his ears, howling like a beast as he lost himself in his climax. In her. Olivia.
He opened his eyes, cupped her face, met her gaze. Her eyes were wide, shocked. Until she closed them. Looked away.
“Olivia,” he said, his voice rough. Unrecognizable.
She shifted beneath him, a small squeak escaping her lips. “Could I just...?”
“Sorry.” He rolled to the side, allowing her space. She sat up, drawing her knees to her chest, and he stayed where he was. On his side, his head propped up by his hand.