She knew what was happening, what would happen if she didn’t put a stop to it right now. But where last night she hadn’t been prepared to make love with Shane, tonight, strangely, she was. Maybe it was because they had survived the night, along with the kidnapping and the hijacking and everything else. Maybe she felt as if she wanted to reward herself—deserved a reward—for that. Or maybe it was because she didn’t know what tomorrow would bring. Once they reentered the outside world, she feared that everything would go back to being the way it was before. And she didn’t want that. She didn’t know why she felt that way, only that she didn’t want to go back to her life as it had been before. Before Shane Cordello. She wanted things to be different now. She wanted to be different. And she also wanted to have some good memories of this time with Shane to take with her, to temper the bad ones that might otherwise prevail.
She just wanted Shane, she conceded. Wanted him like she’d never wanted anything in her life. And where last night, there had been too many things that might have gone wrong, tonight everything seemed to have fallen into place. They were alone. They were comfortable. They were safe. Come morning, they would be rescued. And after that…
Well, Sara didn’t want to think about after that. She only wanted to think about right now. And right now…
Oh, right now.
She tore her mouth from his, pushing her hands against his chest, to halt the onslaught of sensations and emotions, if only for a moment. By his expression, she knew he feared she was going to put a stop to their embrace again. So she smiled what she hoped was an encouraging smile, and cupped her palm gently over his cheek.
“I won’t say, ‘No,”’ she promised. “And I won’t say, ‘Stop.”’
Relief filled his eyes, marred by puzzlement. “Then why…?”
“I just want to slow down a bit, that’s all,” she said. “I want us to take our time.”
He grinned. “We can do that. For a little while. But then, Sara…”
“Then what?” she asked.
“Then I have plans for you, sweetheart.”
Oh, my…
Instead of worrying about the fact that he knew infinitely more about what was happening between the two of them than she did, Sara focused on what she did have some knowledge about. Certainly she knew how to undress a man. It wasn’t so frightfully different than undressing herself, was it?
She dropped her hands to the front of his shirt, flattening a palm on each side of his button placket. Immediately, though, she realized she had made a mistake. Undressing Shane would be completely different from undressing herself. Because what lay beneath his shirt was so utterly unlike what lay beneath hers. Even through the thin cotton fabric, she determined the strength and heat and hardness of him. And as she dragged her hands down his torso and back up again, she encountered bump after bump of rigid musculature. Another mistake, because in feeling the shape of him through his clothing, she discovered that she only wanted to know more.
With just a small hesitation, she lifted her hands to the uppermost button and, with great care, freed it from its mooring. She braved a glance up at Shane’s face when she did so, and found that he was smiling at her…indulgently. Indulgently! Of all things. She wanted him to smile passionately. Wickedly. Wantonly. Not indulgently.
“See anything you like?” he asked with much amusement. Amusement! Of all things.
“Not yet,” she said, growing bolder.
Feeling challenged now, she slowly freed the second, then the third button of his shirt. Little by little, she increased her speed and, one by one, unfastened all that were left. Then she dipped her hands below the garment, her intention to skim it right off of his shoulders without so much as a by-your-leave. But she halted the moment her hands connected with his body. He felt so…extraordinary. Solid and hard and strong, yet soft and velvety and limber. The dark hair growing across his chest drew her fingers in and, fascinated now, she took her time exploring him. She thumbed his flat nipples, tripped her fingers over his rigid abdominals, slid her thumb into the divot at the base of his powerful throat. She couldn’t help herself—she found his physique so intriguing. Again and again, around and around, she let her hands explore him, marveling at all she encountered, until she had indeed pushed his shirt over his shoulders and he stood before her half-naked.
So surprised was she by her own gesture, and so enraptured had she become by all she’d discovered that she didn’t realize what her exploration had done to Shane—until she glanced up at his face again and saw that all the passion, all the wickedness and all the wantonness she had hoped for was now indeed present. In spades.
She gasped as he pulled her hard against him, and her pulse accelerated wildly as he skimmed his hand lower, down over her shoulder blade, along her spine, to the small of her back, where he spread his fingers open wide. He dipped his head to hers again, capturing her mouth with his, tasting her with just the tip of his tongue, sliding it first along her upper lip, then slowly, oh so slowly, along the plump curve over her lower one. Then, as he nestled his mouth more resolutely over hers, he slipped his hand lower still, over the rounded arc of her bottom. Sara gasped at the contact, and he took advantage of her response by tasting her more deeply, thrusting his tongue into her mouth and pushing her entire body closer to his.
As he did, his fingers closed more intimately over her derrière, and she felt the heat of his palm warming her flesh through the thin cotton of her skirt. Hot, too, was the friction he created when he began to rub his hand over the fabric, dragging it over her sensitive, otherwise naked, flesh, searing her, scorching her, inside and out. She jerked her mouth away from his to gasp for breath, but he immediately reclaimed it, kissing her even more deeply than before, hauling her body fiercely against his own. She felt him swell and ripen against her belly, and she nearly fainted dead away at the sheer size and demand of him. She knew enough about what happened between a man and a woman, even if she’d never experienced it for herself. And it didn’t take an expert to realize that Shane Cordello would be a formidable lover.
As if he sensed such a realization were forming in her brain and he didn’t want to disappoint her in her assumption, he gripped her hand in his and pulled it between their bodies, cupping her palm boldly over that part of himself. Then he covered the back of her hand with his own palm and pressed hard, urging both their fingers down along his inflexible length. Then up again. Then down again, until Sara feared she would lose consciousness at the demand and intimacy in the action. But she had no desire to stop it. He was so hard and long and solid, and she wondered what it must feel like to invite such a man inside.
As she envisioned that happening, Shane began to take further liberties, moving the hand on her bottom again, lower still, to her thigh this time, where he grasped her skirt tightly in his fist. As he continued to kiss her, each more intense than the one preceding it, he began to drag the garment upward, over her calves, her knees, her thighs, until he had bared her bottom completely to the cool kiss of the night air.
Oh, heavens, Sara thought wildly. Vaguely, she thought once more about whether or not she should put a stop to this before things went too far. Then she realized that things had already gone too far. Much too far. No man had ever touched her the way Shane seemed intent on touching her, with no barrier between his flesh and hers. And then, before she could speak, he was touching her, his whole, big hand curving over the delicate skin of her behind.
“Oh, man,” he groaned against her mouth as he touched her. “I wondered if you’d be bare-assed, too. Oh, Sara…”
And then he was kissing her again, touching her, palming and petting the soft globes of her bottom. He creased the sensitive cleft with sure fingers, then he gave one buttock an ungentle squeeze before driving one finger between them again for a soft, scant penetration. Sara cried out at the shocking nature of the action, and at the even more scandalous sensations that rushed through her in response. Her entire body felt hot and liquid, as if she were a
bout to burst into flames. She tried to tell him to stop, to put her skirt back in place, to let her go, that they were moving too quickly, but she couldn’t make herself form the words to issue the order. Probably, she realized wildly, because she didn’t want to form the words or issue the order. Because she wanted to keep feeling this way for as long as she possibly could.
Shane must have taken her feral little cry as encouragement—and indeed she couldn’t say that it wasn’t—because he dipped his other hand between their bodies and up under the fabric of her shirt in front. The waistband hung low on her hips, so he was able to trace the circle of her navel, then move upward, cupping her naked breast with sure fingers. He groaned again when he realized no barrier stood between him and his prize, gently kneading her flesh before closing his thumb and forefinger over the tumid peak. Over and over he teased her sensitive flesh, thumbing her, palming her, driving her nearly mad with wanting him.
When he ended their kiss with a savage gasp, she thought he only meant to draw air. But what he did was push her breast higher, outside the scooped neck of her blouse, then lower his head to pull her inside his mouth instead. He sucked as much of her in as he could, laving her first with the flat of his tongue, then taunting her with its tip. Again and again he tasted her, toyed with her, teased her, pushing her breast deep into his mouth with one hand as he fondled her bottom with the other.
And as he pleasured her that way, Sara gripped his shoulders hard in her hands, because she began to feel very faint indeed, and feared she might melt away if she didn’t hang on tight. Her knees did buckle beneath her then, but Shane kept her aloft with his greedy, expert hands. And just when she was certain she would come apart at the seams, he upped the ante again, moving the hand on her fanny lower still, slipping his fingers between her legs, to that most torrid, clandestine part of her.
Oh, heavens…
Without warning, and without hesitation, he penetrated her deeply with one long finger, the first such invasion Sara had ever felt. She knew he didn’t know that, knew he must think she was at least a little experienced when it came to sex. She knew she had to tell him the truth—that she’d never been with any man this way before. Because he had a right to know that. But she feared that if she told him, he would stop what he was doing. Or, at the very least, he would go slower. He would be more patient. He would stop doing the things to her that he was currently doing. And that was the last thing she wanted him to do.
Heaven help her, she couldn’t tell him. She couldn’t. Not if it meant he would stop touching her the way he was touching her now. Because the way he was touching her now was… Erotic. Hypnotic. Narcotic.
And still not nearly enough…
Nine
“Shane,” Sara finally managed to gasp. “Shane, please.” Though what she was pleading with him to do, she couldn’t honestly say. Part of her wanted him to stop what he was doing, at least long enough for her to think about what was happening. But another larger, more insistent, part of her wanted to make him promise that he would never, ever stop, because she never wanted to have to think about anything again.
He must not have heard her, though, because he didn’t slow his ministrations. In fact, he slid a second finger inside her, spreading the two digits, widening her, making her writhe with a need for something she couldn’t even identify, and making it nearly impossible for her to keep standing.
“Oh, Shane,” she tried again. “Please. Please, you have to—”
“What?” he interrupted her, the single word falling hotly and damply against her naked bosom. He traced the upper curve of her breast with the tip of his tongue, and she emitted another frantic sound from the back of her throat, a sound she didn’t even recognize as coming from herself.
“We can’t… You mustn’t… I’m not… It isn’t…”
“We can,” he countered breathlessly. “I have to. You are. And it is. All of it, Sara. We need to do all of it.”
“But—”
“Shh,” he interrupted her. “Don’t talk.”
“But I—”
He cut her off. “Just feel.” Then he deftly inserted a third finger inside her, flexing it with the other two, stimulating her in a way that made her entire body hum. “Just feel me,” he whispered, the words coming right beside her ear. Only then did she realize that she had closed her eyes, so she hadn’t seen him straighten and move his face closer to hers. “Feel me inside you,” he murmured.
“I do,” she whimpered, scarcely able to even manage those two small words.
“Oh, you’re so tight,” he gasped. “So sweet. It’s going to be so good between us. I promise you, Sara. So good.”
“Oh, Shane…”
“Feel what I do to you,” he whispered, moving his fingers inside her once more. He moved his other hand to her bottom again, raking over the taut flesh again and again. “And think how it will feel when we’re in bed, with you on top of me, and me going even deeper than this.”
“Oh, Shane…”
“Think about it, Sara.”
“I am. Oh, I am…”
At her heated declaration, he scooped her up into his arms and carried her over to the bed, depositing her at its center. She sensed, more than felt, him skimming the loose blouse off of her body, urging her backward so that he could remove her skirt, as well. She lifted her hips to facilitate her disrobing, but found that she could manage little other movement. Then she watched, still and silent, feeling drugged and disoriented, as he shed his shoes and trousers. She had been right in gauging him as formidable, she saw as the moonlight silvered the front of his body. He was magnificent, muscled, almost menacing somehow in his confidence. He knew what he wanted, and he knew what to do and say to get it. And Sara, heaven help her, wanted nothing more than to give it to him. Energy and intent seemed to hum from every cell in his body. And every cell in his body was absolutely glorious.
Without thinking about what she was doing, she extended her hand toward him in silent invitation. And Shane immediately accepted. He joined her on the bed, the tiny bed that commanded closeness, lying on his side beside her. He kissed her again, tracing a finger along all the curves and valleys of that one exposed side—over her jaw, her shoulder, her breast, the dip of her waist, the flair of her hip, her thigh. Then he pulled back again, taking her hand in his, and rolled over onto his back, tugging her along, atop him. Instinctively, Sara straddled his lean, hard torso, closing him within her bent knees. He smiled as he reached up to fill his hands with her breasts, thumbing the stiff peaks, rolling them between his fingers, tracing the ample circles of her areolae.
“You are so beautiful,” he said softly.
The observation seemed not to invite a response, so final was his tone when he uttered it. So Sara only smiled at him in return, splaying her own hands open over the warm, hard satin of his chest, marveling at the musculature she had seen only on stone-carved Greek gods before now. He was beautiful, too, she thought. More beautiful than anything she had ever seen before.
He caressed her breasts for a few moments more, long enough to drive her to near lunacy, then shifted his hands down to her waist, settling them over the curve of each hip. Gently, he pulled her forward over his flat belly, an action Sara didn’t expect, but one she found wildly erotic, as it generated a friction beneath her that was quite…extraordinary. Then, a bit less gently, he pushed her backward again, the friction more insistent this time, leaving a damp trail on his flesh in its wake. Sara was melting a little inside, floating on an aphrodisiac high, waiting for him to pull her forward on another slick ride, when, as if Shane recognized something she didn’t, he lifted her upward and over him, then began to slide her down. And then, suddenly, he was parting her with his thick, heavy staff, breaching her, slowly penetrating her.
“We can start this way,” he told her. “But I want to do it every way with you tonight, Sara. Every way we can imagine.”
Oh, she could imagine some wonderful ways, so, almost delirious now, she on
ly nodded.
“And I like it fast and hard,” he added. “Is that okay with you?”
Not fully understanding what he meant, and frankly too far gone by now to care, Sara nodded again. She didn’t want anything to interrupt the intensity of the pace they’d set, and “fast and hard” sounded extremely erotic. Shane smiled at her agreement, a wide, satisfied smile. She was about to smile back when, simultaneously, he jerked her body down hard over his and thrust his roughly against—and inside—her own.
The pain that shot through her then was quite distressing. And she was helpless not to cry out at the hot, knife-sharp paroxysm that sliced through her entire abdomen at his invasion. Shane must have realized at the same time that he had just violated a barrier no man had yet to penetrate, because after one stark moment inside her, he immediately withdrew and rolled her to her back, bracing himself over her on elbows he folded on each side of her.
“You’re a virgin?” he cried in utter astonishment.
Still gasping at the spiral of pain that had wound briefly through her, Sara somehow managed a wry smile. Unable to help herself, she reached up to thread her fingers through his dark hair with much affection. Then, very softly, she said, “Well, not anymore, I’m not.”
Shane studied her in absolute silence for a moment, unmoving, as if he had turned to stone. Then, “Oh, hell,” he muttered. He, too, rolled over onto his back, his body still pressing into hers thanks to the smallness of the bed. Then he covered his eyes with one hand and repeated, “Oh, hell.”
Sara bit her lip and somehow managed to hold back the tears she felt threatening. She tried to tell herself they were the result of the pain that had shot through her, and not due to Shane’s carelessly offered words. Somehow, though, the latter hurt far worse than the former had.
Taming The Prince (Crown & Glory Book 8) Page 13
