Looking at him in the slanted moonlight on his enormous bed, I saw he’d opened a condom and was peeling it over his huge length.
“I forgot,” he said grimly. “I never forget.”
My mouth suddenly went dry. “Then is it possible—”
“It’s fine,” he growled. Leaning forward, he kissed me passionately, until I forgot to worry about anything, until I forgot my own name. “Look at me.”
I did. Our eyes met as he pushed back inside me, inch by throbbing inch. I gasped. As the pleasure built, I started to close my eyes, to turn away.
“Look at me,” he repeated harshly.
Against my will, I obeyed. Our eyes locked as he thrust inside me. I felt every inch of him as he filled me, then increased the rhythm, shoving harder and faster as he gripped my hips. Tension coiled low and deep inside me, building tighter and tighter.
It was shockingly intimate to watch his face. Almost more intimate, even, than having him inside me. I felt the muscles of his backside grow tense beneath my hands, tense with the strain of holding himself back so tightly. Why did he hold back? Why?
Then I knew.
For me.
He thrust roughly into me, swaying my breasts as our sweaty naked bodies slid and clung together. He thrust again, so deep he impaled me. And something inside me suddenly spiraled out of control, rising from ash like a burst of fire. I was consumed by it, then exploded like a phoenix. I screamed, and heard his answering growl, as he clutched my hips tight enough to bruise. With a hoarse cry, he filled me with one last brutal, savage thrust, then collapsed over me with a groan.
I held him in the moonlight on the bed, this powerful giant of a man who’d overwhelmed me with the sweet torment of pleasure, now weak as a kitten. Closing my eyes, I cuddled him to my body, my heart in my throat.
I’d never imagined sex was like this, never.
“See?” Still panting, Edward nuzzled my neck. His voice was filled with masculine self-satisfaction as he traced his fingertips down my cheek. “I told you.”
“What?” I choked out, holding him closer, never wanting to let him go.
His dark blue eyes smiled sleepily into mine. “That I would make you weep.”
Astonished, I touched my face and found he was right. He’d made me weep. It was the first time.
It wouldn’t be the last.
* * *
Sunlight poured golden through the windows as Edward woke me with a kiss. “Good morning.”
“Good morning,” I said a little shyly, yawning. Our bodies were still naked, our limbs intertwined. I felt amazingly, blissfully sore in all the right places.
We’d made love three times last night. After the explosive first time, we’d slept in each other’s arms until at midnight we’d decided we were hungry. Putting on robes, we’d gone down to the dark, empty kitchen to hunt for a snack, giggling like naughty teenagers.
Naughty indeed. One minute Edward’s hand was reaching for the bread box, the next it was beneath my silk robe, and the minute after that he pushed me against the kitchen wall. The fact that we could have been discovered at any moment by Mrs. MacWhirter or the other servants just made it more dangerous. Ripping my belt loose, he’d taken me against the wall, wrapping my legs around his hips as he thrust hard and deep, until I gripped his shoulders in a silent cry. It was fast. It was rough.
It was delicious.
After a quick meal of sandwiches and cake in the dark kitchen, giggling and whispering, we’d gone back upstairs. We were both so sweaty, we decided to take a shower. I don’t know how this happened, either. One minute he was shampooing my hair, and I was standing on my tiptoes, reaching up to shampoo his. He playfully flicked some lather on my nose, and in retaliation, I smacked his butt really hard. He grabbed me, and two seconds later, he was shoving me against the shower’s steamy glass, murmuring words of desire against my hot, rosy skin as he made love to me beneath the scorching stream of shooting water.