Duty and the Beast(26)

       
           



       

His voice was so thick and tight that it was like gravel against her  senses. His dark eyes were almost black, and brimming with need.

She knew little of love-making apart from what she had read in books,  but she knew that it must be taking too long because this need inside  her burned so hot!

'I want you,' she said, wanting him to know that in case he was taking  his time because he thought she might yet change her mind. He growled  deep in his throat, tore the shirt from his shoulders and undid the  buckle of his belt. She watched, transfixed, as his busy, clever hands  worked the trousers undone, watched hungrily as he slid them over his  hips and kicked them aside.

She gazed at his masculine beauty, at the perfection of his form, at the  bulge in his underwear, before he joined her once again on the bed,  scooping her back into his arms.

Skin brushed by the cooling air was now brushed with the smooth of his  hand and with his heated lips. He kissed her lips, nose and eyes, he  trailed kisses down her throat, took her hand and kissed his way up her  arm, her wrist, the inside of her elbow and down the other.

He didn't so much kiss her as worship her body, and when he dispensed  with her bra she let it go with no protest. Why would she protest when  her breasts wanted his mouth on them with no barrier between them?

His tongue took a wicked trail across her belly and it was almost too  much, her body never more alive, never more on fire. And then his hand  cupped her mound and her spine arched into the bed. 'Please,' she  begged.

'What do you want, Princess?'

'I want you,' she gasped. 'Inside me.'

Laughter rumbled from him and into her as his mouth found her thigh and he proceeded to kiss his way down one leg.

Why was he taking so damned long? Her hands fisted in the covers as she  was driven wild with desire, wild with need. She needed him inside her,  and he was raining kisses on her instep.

'Someone is impatient,' he said as she kicked at him, urging him on.

'Haven't I waited long enough?' she came back with, her chest heaving, pulling her leg away.

'But if you have waited this long, surely a few more minutes won't matter?'

'I might die before then,' she replied and threw her head back into the  pillows as he kissed his way up her inner thigh. 'Oh God.'

'Do you like that?'

'Mmm,' she managed. He must have been listening because she felt his  fingers trace the waistline of her lace panties, felt them sneak under  and scoop them down, felt his hands gentle her legs apart.

Oh God.

Every cell in her body tensed and clamped shut. This was it!

It was, and yet it wasn't, for in one shocked moment she realised his  head was still between her thighs. 'You can't,' she said, then he parted  her and she felt the sweep of his tongue against her inner lips and she  almost cried out with the utter pleasure of it-did cry out when she  felt his tongue circle that tiny, concentrated nub of nerve endings.

Already she was lost. She was panting now, lost in a new world with no  idea how to find her way out and with no wish to find her way out any  time soon. Not until she found this magical place he was taking her.

She hated him for making her wait, for delivering such exquisite  torture, hated him and loved him for making her feel so very much.

Just when she thought she could not take any more, she felt his fingers  upon her, circling her very core, working in train with his busy lips  and tongue. One finger pressed inside her and her muscles clamped down  at the invasion. But it was hardly unwanted. A swish of his tongue and  she sighed and relaxed, only to feel another push into her alongside it.

Suddenly it was too much. There was too much to enjoy. Too much  pleasure. She felt that pleasure spiral upwards, felt her whole being  reduced to sensation, and then with a final flick of his clever tongue  and press of his fingers inside her she was sent catapulting into the  sky.

He held her while she rocked back to earth. He pressed kisses to her  belly and breasts and lips where she tasted herself on his mouth.

'But you  … ' she managed, feeling as limp as a rag doll.

'Think you're amazing.'

And some part of her that still registered compliments glowed. She had  done nothing and he could still say that? She sensed him rise up, heard  the swish of fabric over skin and opened her eyes to see him between her  legs, his hand guiding his erection towards her. So large. So alive and  wondrous.

'You're so beautiful,' she whispered in awed reverence. 'Do you think.?'

'Oh,' he said, leaning down to suck her into his kiss, 'I know.'

She tasted his mouth on hers then, felt it tug her into his world,  convincing her with the persuasive play of his tongue and losing her  until with a start she realised he was there, butting and straining  against her entrance. Even when she panicked, his hand was there below  her to lift her and ease the angle.                       
       
           



       

But he was there, right there, and she would have panicked but he was  also right there with her, taking her higher again with his kiss.  Suddenly a pressure became a presence and, with a flash of pain that  went as quickly as it had come, he was inside her.

She stilled then, stunned by what had happened, feeling his fullness  deep within her body. He was inside her and, now the moment of pain had  gone, she felt only that amazing sensation. But was that it? Was this  how it was supposed to be?

He kissed her eyes. 'Are you all right?' She blinked up at him, seeing  his concern in the tiny creases around his eyes, and she knew she loved  him, just a little, even then. He shifted his elbows, a movement that  shifted his body subtly so very far below and she gasped at the  unexpected friction.

'I'm good,' she said. 'You feel so good.'

He growled at that and raised his hips, and she felt the sliding loss of  him even as muscles she'd never realised she possessed battled to hang  on.

He thrust back into her, this time with greater force. Why had she never  done this? she wondered as her head was driven back into the pillows.  Why had she waited when the pleasure was so exquisite, so addictive?

Then he withdrew and thrust into her again and she knew why-because she  had wanted to save herself for the one who was special, the one who  could make her feel this good. Zoltan made her feel this good.

Zoltan was the one.

She had saved herself for the very best.

And with every thrust of his hips she knew that to be true; with every  thrust of his hips she knew she would never find a higher place.

But she found it now, when the slide of him inside her turned  incendiary, and she combusted in a shattering explosion that featured  the sun, moon and stars.

It could have ended there, but she heard his roar, felt his shuddering  climax, and it drove her still further through the galaxies until he  launched her again into nothingness and the sky gave way to the glow of a  tiny kernel of knowledge.

She loved him.

Something had shifted the sands beneath his feet. Something had shifted  the foundations of his very world while he wasn't looking.

Something?

Or someone?

For, while Zoltan's body pulsed with the post-release hum as he lay back  against the pillows, his breathing slowly steadying, his mind grappled  with the impossible. She was perfect in every way. How could she be? Yet  she had responded instinctively to his every move, naturally and  sometimes even wantonly, despite being uneducated and unrehearsed, and  her unskilled reactions had stoked the fire raging inside him, higher  and higher, until he had even felt himself consumed.

When had that ever happened before?

How could she, a virgin before this night, do such a thing? He had  expected to pleasure her, to make this coupling as easy as possible.  Never had he expected that he would find paradise himself.

He turned to her, touched the fingers of one hand to the line of her  cheek, wanting to put into words how he felt but unsure how to go about  it, surprised when he felt moisture there. He sat up. 'Did I hurt you?'

She shook her head, blinking away the tears. 'I had no idea. I didn't know it could be that good.'

'Usually it's not,' he said, sliding one arm beneath her. Then, because  some part of him realised that honesty could be couched in better terms,  he went on. 'It's never been that good for me. Never before.' She  looked up at him, her dark eyes wide and a tiny frown between her brows,  as if wondering whether to believe him or not. Suddenly she shuddered  in his arms and her eyes and lips squeezed shut, a woman battling to  keep control.

'Aisha,' he said, smoothing her brow with his free hand as tears  insisted on squeezing past her closed lids, 'I did hurt you. I'm sorry. I  was trying to be gentle.'

She shook her head, tried to turn away, but he gathered her closer into  the circle of his arms. 'No. I was thinking about Mustafa and what he  said he'd do to me. Zoltan, if you had not come I would still be there.  If you had not saved me, it would be him in my bed. It would be him.'  She shook her head. 'Oh God, it would be him in my bed.'