She could not think—a very strange state of affairs for her. But she savored it. In this moment, there was only their bodies, so close together, and the fact that she had just found a new place on her own horizons, heretofore undiscovered.
He gazed down at her face, full of triumph.
She clung to him as she shuddered with the ongoing ripples of pleasure.
How was such a thing possible?
She smiled up at him, full of wonder at her discovery and his participation in it. “This is what it’s about?”
“Partly. Are you ready for the rest?”
“More?” she gasped, but she supposed of course there was more, for their bodies had not been united at the hips as books claimed they should.
She nodded. “I’m ready.”
“This will hurt. Or so some say.”
“I will manage,” she replied, determined not to be afraid.
…
Will struggled to maintain control.
He’d always been a master of pleasure. Pleasure was important.
But with Beatrice? He wanted to be wild. Something inside him was driving him to let go. To make love to her without thinking and to let instinct take over. But it was imperative he was gentle, as he understood a woman’s first time could be most difficult.
He’d never made love to a virgin before, and he was taking no chances.
He eased himself between her thighs, sliding the head of his cock against her slick heat.
He bit back a moan of sheer bliss. She felt like perfection.
He spent time at the seat of her pleasure until she began arching her back and moving toward him, a sign she was ready.
Carefully, he rocked against her opening. She slid her hands up his back, pressing him forward.
Bloody hell, this was too good.
He longed to be inside her.
And so, as gently as he could, he thrust forward.
Tight. She was so very tight, and he tensed. Willing himself not to hurt her.
She tensed beneath him as well. Frowned. And wiggled.
The wiggling nearly undid him.
“Why have you stopped?”
“Does it not hurt?”
“It could be far worse,” she replied. “Will it get worse?”
“I don’t think so,” he said.
“Then do not hold back,” she urged.