The Girl That Love Forgot

She’d never seen a naked man before, let alone touched one. Timidly, she reached out a fingertip and stroked him from the tip along the shaft. He jerked beneath her touch. Gaining confidence, she took him fully in her gentle grasp. He exhaled. He was so huge in her hand, and so hard. When she looked up in wonder at his handsome face his expression was strained, as if he were fighting to keep control.

“You want me,” Annabelle said softly. It was a statement, not a question.

Stefano looked down at her, spread across his bed. His dark eyes seared her skin. She realized he could see all the scars on her whole body. Everything that surgery and time had not healed, everything she’d hidden for twenty years, he could see.

But to her surprise, she wasn’t afraid. She wasn’t ashamed. Beneath his eyes, she was beautiful.

He lowered his body over hers, and as he kissed her, she felt it all over her body. The intensity of his embrace felt like Christmas, like home, like love itself. She felt the hard roughness of his thighs against hers, felt his muscled, hair-covered chest slide against her plump breasts. They were so different and yet, as he held her beneath him, they were the same. They were one.

She felt him between her legs, sliding over her most secret core, demanding entrance.

His hands cupped her breasts as he suckled her nipples and stroked her breasts. She gasped as she felt his fingers move down her flat belly to her hips and finally between her thighs, closer and closer to the sweet aching place that begged for his touch. He teased her, making her tight with longing and desire as he licked and stroked her body. Finally, when she was nearly half-mad with need, he brushed her molten core with his fingertips, in the barest whisper of a touch.

Her hips jerked forward in the explosion of sensation, and she gasped. He touched her again, so softly. With his other hand, he pushed a single exploratory fingertip inside her, and she gripped the sheets in her hands, twisting back and forth, wanting deeper. Wanting more, but not knowing how to ask.

But he already knew. In a swift motion he moved down her naked body, placing his head between her legs. Pushing her thighs apart, he tasted her with the full width of his tongue.

She cried out, arching her back beneath the electric arc of pleasure. The shock was intense. She tried to move away. He held her down with his hands, making her submit to incredible pleasure such as she’d never known.

He slowly licked her, his tongue lapping the hot wet center of her need, flicking against her hot aching peak, swirling in progressively tighter circles until she was writhing in sweet agony. Her body was so tight and taut, and climbing higher still. Her breathing came in ragged, short gasps as the edges of her vision started to go dark. The tension was unbearable, making her shake and twist beneath the savage, ruthless lapping of his tongue. The pleasure was building. Exploding. She clutched the back of Stefano’s black hair, trying to pull him away before she … before she …

But he wouldn’t let her escape—he wouldn’t—

Her world exploded and waves of bliss poured over her like colors, the blue of the Spanish sky, red poppies, deep brown earth and the black of her lover’s eyes. She screamed out his name and Stefano moved, sheathing himself in a condom in a fast movement before he braced his hands on either side of her body, positioning himself between her legs.

In a single rough movement, he pushed himself inside her.

Pain shot through Annabelle as he ripped through her, splitting her apart. She heard the intake of his breath as he broke the unexpected barrier inside her.

“Annabelle?” he said in a strangled voice. “How is it possible … how can you be a virgin?”

She twisted her head away, her eyes tightly shut at the shock and revulsion she imagined she heard in his voice. He started to pull away from her, but she couldn’t bear for it to end, not like this!

“I’m not a virgin,” she whispered, gripping his shoulders, holding him inside her. “Not anymore.”

She heard his low, hoarse gasp. “Look at me.”

Shaking, Annabelle opened her eyes, waiting to see scorn in his handsome face.

Instead, she saw only shock and something else—wistfulness?

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said quietly.

“It’s too late,” she said in a low voice. “It’s done.”

“If I’d known you might be a virgin—”

“Don’t stop now,” she choked out. She shook her head, blinking back tears she struggled to hide. “Please don’t leave me like this.”

Stefano closed his eyes, then with a ragged intake of breath, he slowly pushed back inside her. The movement was slow, impaling her inch by inch. His jaw twitched with the tight ferocity of his control.

She gritted her teeth, bracing against expected pain.

But instead, as he moved slowly inside her, she was shocked by a new feeling that rose above the pain. Pleasure rebuilt inside her like dark clouds of a thunderstorm on a hot summer day. Darkening. Building. Ready to explode.

He filled her so deeply. With each thrust, he went deeper still. She saw by the tension of his body what it cost him to hold back like this. He was so careful—so gentle. His eyes were closed, his jaw twitching with the effort of self-control.

She loved him for that. Reaching up, Annabelle pulled him down and softly kissed his lips. The last vestiges of her body’s pain dissipated and the tension coiling low in her belly started to fill her with every thrust. She gripped his shoulders as he rode her, digging her fingernails into his skin, desperate for more, to feel him harder, deeper. And with a ragged gasp, he obliged her. Annabelle’s head fell back as she gasped for breath, lifting her hips to accept each hard thrust as he rode her. He was so huge, so hard, and as he held her down with his weight, slamming into her so deeply, she cried out from pleasure so intense it almost felt like pain.