by Kay Hooper
She shifted on the pallet to help him when he removed her chemise and knickers, gazing at his face as he looked at her, because what she saw in his burning eyes, an expression almost of wonder, was beautiful in a new way and caused the heat inside her to run wild. Instead of cringing inwardly and feeling rawly degraded, she was aware only of a curious sense of uninhibited delight in the clear evidence that he found nothing at all ugly or revolting about her body.
“Julia…you’re so lovely….” His mouth brushed hers very lightly, then trailed down her throat slowly, and one big hand slid up over her rib cage to warmly surround her breast.
She gasped, almost jerking at the shock that was both physical and emotional. She had never felt a man’s hand touch her naked breast. But if it was unfamiliar to her mind, her body responded so instantly to the caress, she could only tremble as a hot wave of pleasure swept over her. His long fingers stroked her flesh, and her breast grew tight and hard as it swelled, throbbing under his touch. Then his thumb brushed her nipple and she did jerk, the burst of sensation so acute she didn’t know if it was pleasure or pain.
But whichever it was, her body wanted more of it. She couldn’t believe what he was making her feel. His mouth moved against her throat, the hot darts of his tongue sending shiver after shiver rippling through her. His hands caressing her breast, fingers kneading gently and thumb circling her taut nipple rhythmically until it was a sweet, aching torment, until she gritted her teeth to hold back the frantic sounds she could feel rising up inside her.
His mouth touched the base of her throat, then moved to her breastbone and slowly, so slowly she was almost rigid with a breathless suspension, slid up the slope of her swollen breast. She literally couldn’t breathe; all her consciousness was focused on what he was doing, a wordless, instinctive plea in her mind. When his mouth finally closed over her aching nipple, she gasped and moaned raggedly.
Her fingers tangled in his thick, silky hair, her eyes tightly closed as she helplessly endured the blazing shock of exquisite sensation. The wet heat of his mouth on her nipple, the burning, tingling pressure of suction, and the swirling caress of his tongue, was a pleasure beyond anything she had ever imagined.
She hadn’t been able to control the wild feelings his touch evoked, but now her entire body seemed a thing apart from her mind, a thing of passion and relentless need with a life and instincts all its own. It arched against him, pleading mutely for more, quivering and burning as his hand and mouth pleasured and tormented her, and husky little sounds welled up in her throat to escape her trembling lips.
Her body wouldn’t be still, and the fleeting idea that her feverish response was somehow shameful had no power to command muscle or flesh. She felt his hand touch her stomach, sliding warmly downward and then curving along her hip to slowly stroke her tense thigh. She had a vague impression her legs had been moving restlessly, but they were taut now, pressing together, and a new kind of urgency was gripping her body. The heat inside her was spreading, intensifying, and his touch seemed to guide it to burn hotter in the pulsing ache of her loins. His strong fingers were at the inside of her thighs now, gently insistent as they eased between them, and she felt her tight muscles suddenly give way as her legs parted for him.
He made a hoarse sound, his mouth fiercely hungry on her breast, almost frantic, as if the taste of her were something he couldn’t get enough of. If her mind had been in control of her body, she would have tried to push him away, because she was burning alive and didn’t know how much more she could bear, but she had no choice. Her body wanted more. Then he touched her, his fingers brushing the soft curls covering her mound, and her eyes flew open as alarm jolted through her.
For a single instant, even her body remembered bewilderment and sick humiliation, but then he was stroking her damp flesh very gently and a shock of pure pleasure burned the memories away. The whimper that left her seemed to come from deep inside her, an unfamiliar sound, hoarse and ragged. Her hips were rising mindlessly to his touch, sharp tension winding tighter and tighter in her body until she couldn’t breathe except in gasping pants.
Her wide eyes fixed on his face when he lifted his mouth from her breast, and her nails dug into his shoulders as her body arched helplessly. “Stop,” she whispered, the maddening tension tormenting her. “Please…I can’t…”
He covered her lips with his, and his mouth was so hot and hard it should have burned her or bruised her, but it didn’t. She needed that touch too, her mouth opening to his eagerly to accept the deep thrust of his tongue. She wanted him to stop, yet she didn’t—and he seemed to know what her desperately striving body needed most. His intimate caress was insistent, driving her higher and higher until she was writhing, moaning wordlessly into his mouth.
Just when she knew it was possible to die from pleasure because she couldn’t bear another instant of it and death had to be the end, the awful tension finally shattered. Her entire body convulsed, rising against him with a shudder, and she cried out wildly as an unbelievable ecstasy swept through her. Her body remained rigid for a long moment, gripped by the pulsing rapture, and then she went limp, almost sobbing.
Cyrus held her for a few moments, kissing her trembling lips and flushed cheeks, then drew away from her. She opened her eyes, so dazed she could hardly think, watching him as he removed what was left of his clothing. Was that how it was supposed to be, she wondered dimly, that incredible pleasure? If so, pain would be a small price to pay for it.
She knew it wasn’t over. Cyrus had made her feel things she had never imagined; now it was his turn to find satisfaction in her body. She looked at him, her mouth going dry, and tried to squelch her rising fear.
He was starkly masculine. In the yellow lamplight brightened by frequent flashes of lightning, his body looked even bigger than before, stronger. Muscles rippled when he moved, and her gaze clung to his body with a mixture of fascination and alarm. He was beautiful the way a blooded stallion was beautiful: powerful, dominant, graceful, blatantly male, and unmistakably dangerous. His manhood was swollen erect, huge, and terror roiled through her as she looked at him.
He’d said there would be pain for her only the first time, and even though she’d trusted he was telling the truth, she couldn’t help but doubt him now. She had seen Adrian fully aroused when he used the strap on her, but Cyrus was a much bigger man—and she just didn’t see how it would be possible for her to take him into her body.
But when he came back to her on the pallet, she didn’t flinch away from him. Nor did she reach out to him. Adrian had wanted her perfectly still when he lay on her, and she wasn’t sure if she was supposed to do anything at this point. To her surprise, however, Cyrus didn’t immediately roll on top of her. Instead, he kissed her, and his warm, hard hand surrounded her breast.
Cyrus was holding on to the last threads of his control with all his will. He’d wanted her for so long, desire was a throbbing torment now. He had never in his life felt such an urgent, desperate need. He’d been able to ignore his own hunger for a while, intent on loving Julia until she understood the difference between lovemaking and the cruel perversions to which her husband had subjected her.
But now, as he kissed her and touched her, he felt the faint stiffness of her body. And when he raised his head to look down at her, he saw fear shadowing her beautiful green eyes. It went through him like a knife.
“Don’t be afraid, sweetheart,” he murmured, kissing her with all the gentleness he could command. “I just want to love you again, please you. Will you let me do that?”
Confusion flitted across her tense features. “Again?” Her soft voice was hesitant. “I thought—thought you wanted to take me now.”
“When you’re ready,” Cyrus said huskily. “When you want me to take you, my love.”
Julia didn’t understand what he meant. She was ready now, resigned to the promised pain, braced against it. But before she could ask him to tell her more, he bent his head, his mouth closing over her nipple, an
d the banked heat inside her flared to new life.
As badly as his body needed the release it would find in joining with hers, Cyrus’s pleasure in merely touching her was so strong, it was a kind of satisfaction in and of itself. All his senses delighted in the textures of her body, the rising heat of her desire, the sweet taste of her, and the soft sounds she made as he caressed her. Her response was astonishing, and he was both relieved and intensely exhilarated to know that with all she’d suffered, she was able to desire him.
He’d been worried about that, but now he was sure Julia could heal from what had been done to her heart and mind. Once she experienced the full range of a woman’s pleasure and no longer feared a man’s desire, the worst would be over, he thought.
So he concentrated fiercely on arousing her now, ignoring the pounding urgency of his own body. The stiffness of fear left her, replaced by the sensual tension of rising passion as she responded to his touch. Her breasts swelled, round and flushed in his hands, the delicate pink nipples tight and almost pulsing in his mouth. Her hands rose to his neck, restlessly probing, and her breathing quickened.
Her belly was soft and firm under his touch, muscles contracting in little spasms of pleasure as he stroked her skin. The triangle of silky hair at the base of her belly, burnished copper over her creamy flesh, enticed him almost to the point of madness, and when his fingers explored gently, her damp heat drove his feverish desire impossibly higher.
Cyrus didn’t know how much more he could take. Every muscle in his body was so rigid it was quivering with strain, and the fire inside him felt as if it were burning him alive. He caressed her insistently, until she was moving to his touch, her body totally caught up in the primitive drive toward release.
When he finally lifted his head from her breasts, she was whimpering, and looked at him with wide eyes filled with instinctive feminine panic.
“Please,” she whispered, trying to pull him back down to her. “Make it stop, please…”
Groaning, he gently widened her legs and slipped between them, rising above her. Fighting all the urgent demands of his body that he bury himself in her, he moved very carefully, guiding his aching flesh to probe her wet heat gently.
Julia was so gripped by her body’s need that she was barely aware of what he was doing until she felt the blunt hardness of his manhood seeking entrance. Her mind was shocked by the starkly intimate touch, but her body welcomed it and her physical need was far stronger than thought could ever be. Her awareness shifted, centering on the slow, burning invasion. She could feel her body stretching, admitting him, and the sensation was both strange and wildly arousing. There was something ancient and primitive about the insistent male demand, and everything in her that was female was compelled to surrender to it. She had never felt so vulnerable, or so aware of the most basic functions of her body.
Staring up at his taut face, she flinched slightly at the twinge of pain when something in her body suddenly resisted his possession. She felt a tremendous pressure, catching at her breath and sending hot shivers rippling through her. Part of her wanted to push him away, to resist the intrusion, yet another part of her welcomed it with desperate longing.
“Easy, love,” he murmured in a voice thick with strain. He was braced on his elbows, liquid black eyes holding hers as his body slowly bore down.
It wasn’t what she had expected. There was pain, but the burning pressure was worse, and she felt smothered. At the same time, she was acutely aware of the aching emptiness deep inside her, waiting just beyond her body’s stubborn barrier. She whimpered as the pressure increased, then cried out when a sharp pain jolted through her.
Astonishingly, the pain was brief, and when the moment of shock passed, she could feel his hard, throbbing flesh sinking into her body. The pressure was still there, but different, all internal now as her narrow passage struggled to accommodate him. She felt more of his weight settle onto her, her aching nipples nestling into the thick hair on his chest, and then he was fully inside her, his loins cradled by hers.
She hadn’t realized she was crying until he kissed the tears away and groaned her name softly.
“It’s all right,” he whispered, kissing her with fierce tenderness as his arms went under her shoulders to hold her even closer. His fingers were tangled in her hair, moving caressingly, and he held himself still inside her. “No more pain, sweetheart, I promise. I’ll never hurt you again.”
She wondered vaguely why she didn’t feel crushed, but somehow her body seemed designed to bear his weight with no discomfort at all. The pressure inside her eased; she could feel her flesh adjust to the foreign presence as it gripped him snugly. The sensation was so intimate it shocked her mind, but her body was heating again, trembling, and her hips rose a little in an instinct older than the caves.
Cyrus groaned, her tiny movement nearly snapping the last thread of his control. She was so tight around him, it was almost painful, her silky heat caressing his flesh in soft pulsations like nothing he’d ever felt before. It was something beyond pleasure, a sweet torment he could hardly bear. He thought the strain of holding himself back for so long would tear him apart, and his body demanded an end to the torture.
He moved as slowly and carefully as his screaming instincts would allow, and the restraint provided a whole new world of sensation for him. It was as if her passage closed up when he withdrew so that every lingering inward thrust felt like the first. The pleasure was so intense he wanted it to last forever, but the quickening inside him refused him the luxury of time.
Julia hadn’t believed he could make her feel even more than he had already, but this was so powerful it was almost frightening. She was being carried wildly on a rising wave of pure excitement, her body striving frantically for a release from the spiraling tension. Her legs rose to wrap around him, and she was moving with him instinctively, matching his hastening rhythm.
She didn’t know if the thunder she heard was from the storm outside or the one raging in herself. That inner storm was surging and churning, buffeting her senses until she was writhing and whimpering, until she thought it would shatter her into a million pieces. Then, finally, she was hurled over the brink, and nearly screamed as overwhelming pleasure jolted through her. It seemed to go on forever, wave after throbbing wave of it, until she went limp, dazed, and almost boneless. She barely heard Cyrus’s hoarse groan, and held him with what strength was left to her as his powerful body shuddered in completion.
Julia didn’t know how much time passed before she became aware of her surroundings again. It could have been hours for all she knew. Or cared. A wonderfully cool, rain-damp breeze brushed her skin, and she could hear grumblings of thunder, but the storm seemed to be dying. Cyrus held her securely, his forearms underneath her shoulders and his cheek pressed to hers, his body still covering hers heavily.
The only emotion she was aware of was utter astonishment. If anyone had tried to tell her that such things were possible between a man and woman, she wouldn’t have believed it. She wasn’t entirely certain she believed it even now. And he’d been right in saying she would want him to take her; there had come a point when she had been more than ready for him, when her body had needed his so desperately she hadn’t thought of pain or anything else except satisfying her overwhelming desire.
Cyrus lifted his head and kissed her lingeringly, then smiled down at her. “I’m sorry I hurt you, sweetheart,” he told her softly.
She touched his face with wondering fingers, and felt her own lips curve in a smile. “It wasn’t bad,” she murmured. “The pain. And after…I didn’t know I could feel that way.”
“No regrets?” he asked.
Julia shook her head without hesitation. She didn’t regret this, couldn’t regret it. Something inside her, perhaps all that was left of her pride, quailed at the prospect of becoming his mistress in the condemning eyes of society, but she didn’t regret her decision. She thought he would be kind, even though her mind told her not to set her hopes to
o high; he seemed certain he could protect her from Adrian; and the pleasure she’d found in his arms was something she didn’t want to lose.
Shyly, she asked, “Is that—the way it’s supposed to be? Every time?”
“Except for the pain. I’ll always try to please you, love.” He saw a momentary uncertainty cloud her eyes, and asked, “What is it?” very gently.
Julia hesitated, then said with some difficulty, “Adrian only tried…a few times.” She looked up at him helplessly, not sure how to phrase the question and dreadfully embarrassed by her shameless hunger to experience more of these astonishing feelings he’d shown her.
Cyrus understood, and was delighted. He brushed a strand of hair away from her face, his fingers stroking her soft skin. “How often will I want you? I have a strong feeling it’ll be often, love. Very often.” Still smiling, he moved his lower body slightly.
Her eyes widened. She could feel him inside her, feel the slow, swelling renewal of desire, and her body responded with an instant surge of heat. “Oh,” she murmured, hoping she didn’t look as brazenly pleased about that as she felt.
He chuckled and kissed her. “I seem to want you again now, in fact.” Then, his black eyes growing intent, he said, “I’ll stop if you’re too sore, sweetheart.”
Julia was aware of a number of sensations, but none was painful. She moved tentatively beneath him, lifting her hips, and caught her breath as the heat intensified wildly. “I don’t feel any pain,” she whispered.
“Do you want me to stop?” he asked huskily.
“No.” She raised her lips eagerly to meet his, and thought dissolved in a fierce, heated surge of pleasure.
