His dick was about to come out of his pants. He wouldn’t be surprised if his erection tore right through his jeans.
He had to be patient because if he wasn’t careful, the minute he touched her, the moment he finally got inside her, he’d come violently and it would all be over within thirty seconds.
He wanted this to be fucking perfect. He wanted to tease and torment Joss until she was desperate for release. Though she’d said she wanted him not to hold back, she wanted his dominance, wanted him to exert his control and authority over her from the start, he knew he couldn’t do it. Not yet.
This first time had to be perfect. He wanted to lavish his love on her. He wanted to make love to her. There would be plenty of time for sweaty, mindless fucking, but no, even when he allowed himself to lose his tightly leashed control, it wouldn’t be fucking. It would never be something so crude with Joss.
When they made love, no matter the circumstances, whether she was bound and helpless or if he flogged her pretty ass until it was rosy with his marks, it would be something beautiful. Just as beautiful as she was.
“I don’t even know where to start,” he breathed.
Always he was in control. His restraint was something that never failed him. He was confident in his abilities to please the woman he was with. He never faltered. Never hesitated. But now? He felt like he was making love for the first time in his life. That he was an untried virgin with no idea what to do with the veritable feast of womanhood that lay before him.
As he pondered those thoughts, the realization came that this was, in fact, the first time for him. His first time to make love. His first time to have sex when his emotions, his heart, were involved. He’d never been in love with the women he’d been with.
Desired them? Yes. Aroused? Absolutely. But his heart had never been involved to the extent it was with Joss. He was terrified of doing the wrong thing. Of touching her wrong. The pressure he put on himself was overwhelming. The fear of failure. Of not making this as perfect as he wanted.
It was a hell of a position to be in. His heart’s desire within touching distance and he was too afraid to take the plunge.
Joss, sweet, loving Joss seemed to know exactly what he was thinking—feeling. She smiled and extended her hand, an invitation for him to come to her.
“It’s all right, Dash,” she said, her smile as soft as her silky skin. “I’m nervous too. But we’ll get through this together. I trust you to make it beautiful—perfect. How could it be anything else between us?”
He let out a groan, pissed at himself for allowing his uncertainty to show. Some Dominant he was when he was paralyzed with fear over touching her.
Then he lowered his body to hers, allowing his weight to press down on her, but he propped himself up on his forearms so he wouldn’t crush her. She was tiny and delicate, so much so that she looked as though she could be broken if handled too roughly. But it wasn’t her body he was most concerned about. It was her heart. Her emotions. He didn’t want to overwhelm her. He didn’t want her to fear him. Never that. Anything but that. He couldn’t bear it if she ever looked at him with fear in her beautiful eyes.
Holding himself up on one arm, he traced the lines of her face with his free hand, committing to memory every second of this first time. He could scarcely comprehend that she was finally his. That she was in his bed, naked, and that he’d be making love to her in just moments.
He hadn’t wanted her to be overwhelmed, but in fact, he was utterly overwhelmed himself.
“I’ve waited so long for this,” he said, his voice cracking with emotion. “For you.”
She smiled and turned her cheek into his palm, nuzzling farther into his touch. Then she pressed a kiss against his hand, just a simple, sweet gesture that turned his heart over in his chest.
“Make love to me, Dash,” she whispered, her eyes burning brightly. They glowed in the soft light of the bedroom, alive with answering desire.
He lowered his mouth to hers, inhaling her scent as he tasted her lips. He pushed in with his tongue, licking over hers, exploring her mouth.
He was so hard that it was painful. He had to get rid of the barrier between them. He wanted his flesh against hers. Wanted to feel her softness and her warmth.
“Give me a minute to get out of these clothes,” he murmured against her lips. “Don’t move.”
She smiled again and stretched, lifting her arms above her head. It was a gesture of surrender. Was it intentional? A signal of her submission?
He removed his clothes, nearly tearing them in his haste. Her eyes widened when his erection sprang free from constraint. He glanced down and winced, understanding her surprise. He was harder than he’d ever been in his life. His dick strained upward, so swollen and tight that the veins were clearly outlined. The head was nearly purple and already liquid leaked from the tip.