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She shook her head.
“I don’t want to hurt you, Stella.” He leaned down to kiss her and slid a very proprietary hand between her legs as he did, caressing with a light, sweeping touch against her damp folds.
She tensed, shy, but he was in no hurry and, between kiss and caress, she was easily seduced into lying back on the bed. He gently invaded with one finger, then two. It was so flagrant, and fluttered such intense sensations through her, she bit her lip.
“Hurt?” He stilled.
“No.”
“You’re tearing up.” He carefully withdrew.
“Because it’s so…” She stopped herself from saying “big.” “I really want this. You.”
I feel like you’re taking all of me. I’ll have nothing left.
This marriage was a disaster of the best and worst kind.
He kissed her again, tenderly, then applied the condom. He piled the pillows against the headboard and brought her with him as he settled back against them, guiding her to straddle his hips, but he only had her settle her damp core against the rigid line of his erection.
“Do you have any idea how beautiful you look right now? Rosy and aroused…” He brushed the fall of hair away from her breast and over her shoulder, then cupped the swell, lifting it. “Let me suck your nipple.”
She had to catch at the headboard as she leaned forward, then jolted at the sensation of his hot mouth closing around the tip, pulling with light suction. Her legs were open; he was fondling her backside, reaching to touch her again, making her writhe while gently torturing her with the flick of his tongue against her sensitive nipple.
“And the other,” he demanded when he released her.
She bit her lip, wanting this, but wanting the other. Wanting to belong to him. She arched, trembling with arousal.
He dropped his head back and looked at her through hooded eyes.
“Now you’re starting to look like I feel.”
As though he was being torn apart? As though the heat billowing through blood and flesh and lungs was burning him alive?
“I can’t wait anymore,” she said helplessly and yes, there were tears in her eyes. “It’s been a long five years.”
“It has,” he said in a voice like gravel. “Take me.” He held himself steady and set his hand on her hip, guiding her.
The sensation of impaling herself on him was imposing and stark and deeply intimate. She was nervous, but too shaken and weak with arousal to fight gravity. Too ready and curious and trembling with need.
“There’s no hurry,” he admonished in a murmur, keeping his fist wrapped around his shaft so she could only feel the breadth of his tip filling her.
“I don’t want to wait anymore.” The ache of longing rang in her voice.
His breath hissed in and he removed his hand to clasp her waist.
She sank fully upon him, shuddering at the pinch as his length filled her. It was carnal and real, so very blatant, but good. It felt right. Like a culmination. Like she was meant to be right here in this moment in time, looking into his golden eyes.
As she panted and tried to adjust to this new experience, his touch pressed lightly into her tailbone, inviting her to move.
She did and her entire body felt stroked. Sensuality fluttered through her as she began to rock her hips in a rhythm set by instinct and the clasp of his hands on her hips. Her breasts swayed and she leaned down to kiss him, moaning with pleasure into his mouth.
It was perfection. Joyous, beautiful perfection that was building with each grind of her hips, with the way his tongue flicked into her mouth and his hands moved across her skin.
She didn’t care that all of Denmark could probably hear her. She rolled her hips, wanting more, wanting him deeper. He wrapped his arm around her to keep her hips secured to his and slid down on the bed, then began to rise up to meet her, fingertips digging into her hips. The coil within her tightened, the urgency gathered.
“Atlas, Atlas…” Within moments, it was happening again. She was splintering into a million pieces.
She held herself very still as climax washed over her, hands splayed on his hard chest, thighs gripping the hips that were pinned high beneath her.