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Blinking up, Annalena met his serious stare as he slid forward, prodding gently till her breath caught on the edge of being overwhelmed.
So it continued, Benedikt kissing and caressing, building up the need in her, letting her acclimatise to his possession, one slow centimetre at a time.
It was either the most thoughtful, considerate introduction to sex or a refined form of torture, designed to drive her out of her mind.
Her need was so intense, the suspense so great, that finally she lifted her knees and anchored them around his hips so he couldn’t pull away. To make doubly sure she grabbed his buttocks, digging in her fingers.
‘More,’ she whispered. ‘Give me everything.’
Above her his face was a mask of pared lines and brutal restraint. His nostrils flared. ‘Everything?’
Heart thrumming, she nodded. He gathered himself and plunged deep, so deep there were no words to describe such intimacy.
Annalena blinked, trying to catch her breath.
Instantly Benedikt frowned. ‘I hurt you?’
‘No!’ How could she explain? It felt too extraordinary. ‘Not hurt.’
She hefted in air, feeling the friction of her breasts against his hairy chest. That distracted her, sending delight corkscrewing through her. Everything about him felt so good.
There’d been no pain. Trepidation, yes, and she realised her tension would have worked against her if not for Benedikt’s patient attentions.
She felt his strain, saw it in his almost-grimace, and felt a wave of tenderness for this man who put her needs beyond his own. If she weren’t careful, she might read too much into that.
‘Show me more.’
The grimace became a surprisingly endearing lopsided smile. ‘Demanding woman.’
She raised her eyebrows, delighted. ‘Iama queen.’
‘Ah. Well, then, if it’s a royal command…’
Benedikt moved back then bucked his hips. Annalena clung tight through his rhythm of surge and retreat, slowly testing her own response. She thrilled at the sensations he evoked, gasping at each new level of heightened arousal, mutually shared.
His breaths shortened, his movements grew quicker and less fluid. He lowered his dark head, grazing his teeth at a tender spot on her neck she hadn’t known existed. Fire jolted through her and when his fingers caressed her too…
White light exploded, engulfing her, drawing her up and up as she shattered into stardust. But still the ecstasy went on, so acute it had no beginning or end. There was only bliss and Benedikt, golden eyes, convulsing body and then hot, cushioning muscles drawing her close and holding her through the maelstrom.
Benedikt stood before the bathroom mirror, concentrating on the razor’s glide through the shaving foam on his jaw. An electric razor wasn’t good enough today, not when he’d seen the stubble burn he’d left on Annalena.
Hard to believe they’d only shared a bed for one night. It felt like more. It feltmomentous.
So momentous, so different, it worried him. He couldn’t recall anything like it. He shook his head and flicked excess foam from the blade into the sink.
Who was he kidding? It had been compelling, exciting, but not—as he’d imagined in the early hours—extraordinary. That had been his hormones talking. And lingering shock that his bride had been a virgin.
No wonder he’d felt that sudden surge of protectiveness.
Except, he realised, it couldn’t have been protectiveness, just surprise and the need to ensure she enjoyed the experience. Her pleasure added to his own and he wanted a wife who enjoyed intimacy, not who avoided it.
Protectiveness! The only protection she ever needed was from you. You’ve used her again and again, forcing her into marriage and a crown she doesn’t want, just to safeguard your position. Making her give up a career she loves because you alone decided it was necessary. Revelling not only in her passion but her virginity.
He grimaced, avoiding his eyes in the mirror, not wanting to discover what he’d see there.
Today he’d woken to sunlight illuminating Annalena sprawled and exhausted in her rumpled bed. Because even her inexperience hadn’t been enough to stop him having her again, and again, egged on by her enthusiastic responses.
Right. Blame her, when what drove you was your own selfish need. You might talk the talk but underneath are you any better than your father?