Page 7

CHAPTER 7

Maarja hated that this powerful, muscular man possessed a self-deprecating sense of humor. She wanted to use him, not laugh with him. If they went down that road, toward communication and mutual appreciation…that compounded the passion and made it…more.

She didn’t know what exactly; she hadn’t the experience to define it. But she knew it was… more .

He took his hands away and pulled off his T-shirt. “I promise to make it more than one moment, and yes, memorable in a way that will drive every other thought from your head.”

Because she was a practical woman, she gave the sensible response. “I’m not expecting miracles! But—”

“Shhh.” He put his finger over her lips. “Let me manage this. You just…relax. Crisscross your legs.”

He’d already buried his face there, which made it a little late for caution. But what she’d learned in her youth couldn’t be so easily dismissed, and she hesitated.

He tsked, took her ankles and crossed them under her, and turned her to face the wall.

Maybe she’d misunderstood the basics of human mating rituals, but this was weird.

His hands lightly stroked her shoulders.

She jumped.

He shushed her again, and nudged his fingers into the muscles and tendons of her neck. “Let me help you relax. I don’t suppose you’ve ever had a massage?”

She shook her head.

“It seems like the antithesis of something someone who doesn’t like to be touched would do. Lean forward.” He urged her to put her head against the wall and stroked her spine. His hands slid smoothly along her skin; the scent of citrus and lavender grew stronger as the oil warmed under his palms. His thumbs moved more and more deeply along her vertebrae, down all the way to the crack of her ass, then up to her shoulder blades. There he dug under the bones and into the muscles, making small coaxing noises as if she were a new pet being lured to allow his touch.

It worked. She hovered on that plane between pain and relaxation. Every time he moved to a new position, her shoulders, neck, ribs, waist, he eased more tension away. “Breathe,” he whispered. “Breathe slowly. Deeply. Do you meditate?”

She nodded.

“I knew you would. You do what’s good for you, don’t you?”

She nodded again.

“Let’s allow those beta brain waves to take over now.” He removed one hand, brought it back, and knelt behind her. Another wave of scent rose from her skin; his fingers glided around under her armpits. “Breathe.” His voice crooned in her ear. “Breathe…”

Her chest rose, her breasts reached his cupped hands, and as she exhaled, he followed, his palms massaging, his rough-edged fingers stroking in circles that closed on her nipples until she wanted to scream at him to hurry. When he finally brushed the tips, she shivered convulsively.

“That’s so good, isn’t it?” His lips touched her at the base of her jaw. “Lean back, let me support you.” He didn’t wait for her to decide, but eased her back onto his chest.

He could see her now, his hands on her breasts and her legs spread. She felt his breath hitch and she whispered, “Breathe…”

He chuckled deeply and kissed her ear, then with his hand on her jaw, he tilted her head back. “Close your eyes,” he whispered, and kissed her. She opened her lips for him and he used his tongue to tease her, and when she answered him, he hummed his approval. Breaking off, he said, “Look at you. Leaning against me, kissing me back, letting me pet your breasts…” His hand appeared with a bottle and he squirted the golden oil on her chest. “That rolls down, tracking toward your cunt which pouts with my neglect and begs for my attention.”

She felt as if she should make a response. “Earth’s gravity,” she told him.

Briefly his chest shook.

He was laughing at her, but she didn’t have time to tense before his palms had chased the droplets across her chest, breasts, belly, and stroked them across her clit. She watched his darkly tanned hands touch her in her palest, pinkest place—she refused to call it that —and rub and enter her again.

“Does it feel different when your legs are crossed wide than when they were close together?”

“Yes.”

“How different?”

She swallowed. “I feel more exposed.”

“More helpless? As if you couldn’t shut me out?”

She grew tense, and she nodded.

He slid her around to face him. His grave expression frightened her; was he going to say it was too late? He shut her legs and pressed her knees together. “Say no whenever you wish. I’ll stop. I’ll understand.”

She glanced down at him. Did he not really care if they—

“I’m as hard as I’ve ever been in my life. I want to lick you, suck you, take you in every way possible a man can take a woman. Then I want you to do the same for me.” How did he know what she was thinking? The skin over his cheekbones had flushed a dark red, and so had his lips. His eyes observed her the way a predator observed its prey, and if anything, the sight of her body made his fingers twitch and reach. “I have committed my sins, Maarja, but I won’t take you, no matter how much I want you. Do you understand?”

She nodded.

He sat back on his heels, so his head was below hers. “A man who can’t control his urges isn’t worth your spit.”

She nodded.

“You have to tell me what you want to do. You can refuse me.”

“I’m not refusing.”

“You have to give me vocal permission.”

She looked around the shower. “Are you filming this?”

He tossed back his head and roared with laughter. “No. I can see why you’d think so, but no. Nevertheless, I want the words. Refuse or, if you want to proceed, I want a spoken understanding.”

“When I look at you, whether I like it or not, all I can think is… I want to fuck him .” She had to swallow before she could continue. “I don’t know why. Why you?”

“I have some ideas,” he said.

“I want to get on top of you, feel what you’re like inside of me, ride you until we both collapse and the world vanishes.”

“One moment in this day that’s memorable not in a horrible way.” He echoed her earlier words.

“Yes.” She parted her legs and leaned forward. “I may have been misinformed, but as I understand it, your shorts have got to go.”

He shed them in record time. He used the oil again, rubbing her until she was so aroused she was almost in pain, then coating himself. He knelt exactly in front of her and pulled her on top of him.

It was so simple. His erection unerringly found her and in slow, smooth small movements began the journey in. Her weight—and the aforementioned earth’s gravity—pushed her onto him and the oil eased the way.

Her discomfort grew. She clenched and gave a weak struggle.

His fingers tightened on her butt cheeks. He stopped, glared, and clipped off one single word. “Virgin.”

She stared back at him.

He waited.

She admitted the truth with one jerky nod.

“The Fates laugh.” He tucked one arm under her bottom and wrapped the other around her waist, pulled her to his chest, and eased back so once again he sat on his heels. As he did, her feet slipped on the tile, she descended and…he was inside. All the way inside.

The shower rained down on their heads, a peaceful sound so the opposite of the harsh breathing from them both, and they stared at each other, her in shock, him in… She couldn’t begin to decipher what he thought. Not what she’d expected. Not any rush of pleasure, certainly not ecstasy. Fury or grim determination. Or murderous intention.

What did that mean? Was he angry at her? Was he feeling trapped? Did men routinely look like sex turned them into maniacs? How would she know? And…it was a little late to wonder. She was here, now. Should she escape?

Tentatively she slipped her hands off his chest.

Stupid. Did she think she could leave and he wouldn’t notice?

“All right?” He caught her hands and brought them up onto his shoulders. “Still hurts?”

She lifted her chin. “It’s everything the first time is reputed to be, and that last was like ripping off the bandage.”

In another lightning transformation, his expression changed from livid to amused. “Let’s start at the beginning. Did you like the kissing?”

“It’s interesting.”

“You’re going to turn my head.”

She found her head in the crook of his elbow, his lips on her lips, his breath in her mouth, his tongue… This was no preliminary to sex. This was full-on mouth fucking: the thrusts, the sucking, the way he ran his fingers through her hair and wandered off to kiss her ear, then returned to her mouth as if he couldn’t get enough of the sweet taste of her.

He moved inside her, too. Not thrusts. He was as far inside her as he could get. But as their bodies moved, angles changed, her discomfort eased, and she found herself shifting her legs as if she needed to reposition herself.

When she was panting and clutching, he eased away from her mouth, took her hands and kissed her palms, stroked up her arms to her breasts. “Small,” he whispered. “Perfect. Responsive.” She arched as he rubbed her nipples, over and around, then lifted her enough to lick and suck.

She thought his dick would leave her, but his hips followed enough to stay inside. He began a gentle rocking and she didn’t like that, until he lightly bit her nipple and she surged up in surprise and then down on him.

He smiled. “I don’t even have to ask if you enjoyed my mouth on your clit. You responded so quickly I never doubted you’d had experience. I’m an idiot. No experience, but you’re sensitive, hmm?” He rose onto his knees, pushed her and placed her with her palms holding her upright, then spread her legs wide. “I can pull out and lick you now, or you can spread your legs wide and let me… Wider… There. Look. Look where we’re joined.”

Verbal record, now a visual record.

His excitement began to crackle in his voice. “Watch as I stroke your clit and you—please, yes. You move.”

She had to. She had to move, to lift herself with her arms, lower herself onto his dick, wince and lift again. Varied signals bombarded her; the wild itch of passion, the need to move, to find completion, the pain of penetration, the citrus lavender scent of the oil, his fingers gripping her butt and moving her on him, the sight of his penis sliding in and out, his face, dark and intent, twisted as if he felt her pain. She could hear moans: his, hers, and her thighs ached with effort. Control had crept beyond them and in some lucid corner of her mind, she realized the previous hour could be measured in minutes.

This…this fucking must be measured as a 10.0 body-quake, the largest on record.

Adrenaline and desire had kept her moving; that vanished at the wrong moment and she lost her strength, collapsed into his arms. “I can’t…do…anymore.”

In a move of magnificent brute force and awkward gracelessness, he toppled backward, holding her firmly in place. “Ride!”

Tears welled. “I’m so close. Please. You do it!”

He rolled her underneath him and suddenly, no space existed between them. His weight held her in place, he held her knees bent over his elbows, his hips plunged in a rhythm whose music only they could hear, he watched her face as if nothing else mattered but the feelings they shared now, and now, and now. And—

She paused, hovering on the verge.

He released her hips. His guttural voice came from deep in his chest. “Fuck me now !”

On his command, passion shattered her, releasing a cataclysm that shattered the shell she’d built. She wrapped her legs around his hips and lifted herself, and gloried in his thrusts…and for the first time in her life, she lost herself to the moment and to the man.