She felt the same way.
Another slight movement, their fingers laced together over his cock. Thi
s small invasion exhilarated her. Made her angle her hips toward him. And that was when the burning sensation began as she stretched to accommodate more of him. For a moment, she feared he would tear her in two.
He stilled, glancing up at her, his breathing ragged, countenance strained. “More?”
He was asking her if he should stop or proceed. Either prospect seemed equally agonizing at the moment.
“More,” she said.
This time, his hips lurched forward, sinking him deeper. He took her fingers from his shaft and raised them to his lips for a reverent kiss. “My brave darling.”
Another thrust, and the burning lessened, though the tingling pain lingered, mingling with the new sensation of being filled and claimed.
She clung tight to him, holding the broad planes of his shoulders. He took her lips in another kiss, his tongue tracing the seam of her mouth. One flex of his hips, and he was fully seated, his hip bones pressing into hers, their bodies completely joined.
The sensation was indescribable. Quite unlike what she had anticipated. Her body was so highly aware of every sensation after the painstaking pleasure he had shown her. He was inside her, his cock hot and hard and demanding.
He gazed down at her, his concentration and strain showing. “Shall I continue, sweet?”
Continue?
This was not all there was to lovemaking? She had supposed that, while the precursors had been vastly different from the equestrian form of courting and copulating, the end result would be the same.
She bit her lip. “Horses seem to go about the process a bit differently.”
He chuckled, the sound like velvet, warm and soft falling around her. “I ain’t a bleeding horse, lovely. And thank Christ for that.”
“Oh,” was all she could think of to say.
“Shall I?” he asked, kissing one of her distended nipples.
“Yes, please,” she said demurely, sinking her fingers into his beloved ringlets.
He was moving the moment her words of permission took shape, his lower body lifting, his cock gliding through her passage and almost slipping free before he slid inside her once more. Slowly, deliciously. And again. This time, her body easily accepted every inch, her bottom rising from the bed to meet his thrust.
His lips met hers, his fingers moving between their bodies to toy with her aching bud once more. The combination of sensation was overwhelming in the headiest sense, their bodies uniting as he fed her kisses and stimulated her pearl until she spent again, seizing with a cry of wild joy as she quivered and clenched around him. He continued thrusting, his low groans blending with her uncontrollable sounds of pure surrender.
Through the exquisite rush, she was dimly aware of him suddenly withdrawing from her, fist wrapped around his length, and spending into the bedclothes. But the loss of him shook her, and she was not ready for it yet. She drew him into her embrace, not satisfied until his body was perfectly pressed against hers, his weight a comforting presence atop her.
He stiffened. “I shouldn’t lie on you this way.”
But as he tried to frantically extricate himself, she held on tightly. “No, Rafe. I need you here. Right where you are.”
He stilled, looking down at her with an expression of such unfettered caring that her eyes pricked with fresh tears. “Whatever you need, lovely.”
What if all I need is you?
But these words, like so many others, she tucked away inside. They were better left unspoken. For what good would they do her? Her lies and the truth would eventually collide.
CHAPTER 11
Persephone woke to an empty bed that still smelled faintly of the man she loved and a body that was aching and sore in new places.
And to a terrible, heart-crushing realization.
She had to leave this post.