Darkness engulfed her.
Darkness and softness.
The faint smell of sweet tobacco tickled her nostrils, pleasuring her senses and heightening her desire. The bed moved, depressing beneath the palpable and unmistakable weight of a man. His body covered hers. Her own tingled with feral recognition.
She tried to speak, to focus on the steady sparks of glowing silver staring down at her but another face emerged through the mists of her mind.
She smiled at his vision and drifted into his waiting arms.
His fingers entwined in her hair. His tongue tasted her throat. His hands, his mouth, his breath scorched her skin. His body loomed strong and hard above her. His nakedness pressed against hers. Her arousal escaped on a soft moan eliciting a low chuckle against her neck. Its sound crept along her skin and pooled between her thighs. She was aflame and in all the right places.
Practiced hands followed eager lips down her body to the tautness of her stomach. Fingers brushed the inside of her thighs moving with skilful touch over her hips and intimate flesh.
Her mind no longer differentiated, and her body no longer cared. Her legs parted in eager anticipation. She wanted more. Sensed there must be more. His breath warmed the swollen bud at the apex of her thighs and she blossomed like a summer rose on his tongue.
Celeste jolted against the heat of his mouth, her action instinctively proffering her throbbing flesh to his frenzied tongue. Shock and desire burgeoned through every fiber of her being. She writhed uncontrollably her burning ache fuelling the delicious intensity consuming her. Then it stopped, the tormenting pleasure of his mouth on her. His weight shifted. He moved above her and settled in the cradle of her hips. She wrapped her arms about his neck opening to him and giving way to a scorching tongue pressed against the seam of her lips.
Her lips parted in open invitation and his tongue darted inside her mouth. It intoxicated her, the heady mixture of her sweetness on his tongue and all the flavors that were him. He caught her waist clamping her to him. In total control of her, he deepened their kiss and she drank him in. She could scarce breathe from his onslaught.
The firm length of his manhood inched her open where no man had ever claimed her and she stiffened in momentary panic. He gave her no time to register her fear. With slow patience he entered her, stretching her chaste body about his hard length and allowing her time to feel him, to grow accustomed to his strength. She expelled a tremulous breath, his own breathing harsh against her mouth in strong evidence of his self-control. He pushed deeper. She arched against him, her breasts tightening at the exquisite spasm of pain gripping her.
In the far recesses of her brain she sensed his hunger and longed to satisfy her own. Her limbs curved tighter about his hips drawing him closer. Silently, she pleaded for the release she knew he could give. His body trembled in her arms and without warning he thrust again sheathing the final length of his manhood deep in her virgin folds. His mouth swallowed her strangled cry. Her hands pushed against his chest. Her brain thawed.
Lifting his hips, he penetrated her again and again and again. With slow, deep strokes of pleasure he erased the pain of his possession until her body answered his rhythm.
Intense pleasure burgeoned from their joined bodies and she cried out on the rising wave of molten fire melting her bones and raging through her brain. Her body expanded and exploded and she cried out again as a flaming river of liquid fire surged through her and erupted between her thighs in an unending torrent of pleasure. She finally closed her eyes and relaxed. Her body trembled in his arms.
“I’ve wanted you from the very moment I first laid eyes on you, my lady,” he whispered against her lips. “Had I known it was you…I would’ve courted you. Done this in a different way. Marry me, Celeste. Marry me and you’ll want for nothing. I swear. Allow me to right this. Be my wife.”
Her eyes fluttered opened and Celeste focused on Scully’s handsome face.
“Be my wife,” he repeated.
Tears rose in her eyes and fell in hot tracks into her hair. She turned her face away in quiet shame. No man would have her now, not even Zev but she could never belong to Scully. Not like this.
“No,” she said.
Scully turned her face back to his. “Wasn’t I kind? Wasn’t I gentle?”
“Leave me be.”
His hands moved down her body molding her tighter to him. His weight shifted once more between her thighs and his manhood pressed against her bruised softness.
“I cannot, my lady. I have defied a French King to be with you tonight.”
Michelle Chambers Romance- More Than Simply Romance