Midnight Star (Star Quartet 2)

But he wouldn’t be rushed, as much as he wanted to bury himself deep within her. He splayed his fingers over her buttocks, curving until he was probing at her softness. She was ready for him, wanting him as much as he wanted her.

“Oh God,” he whispered hoarsely. “Wrap your arms around my neck,” he said, easing down on his haunches. He lifted her hips and gently eased himself into her.

She cried out in surprise and pleasure.

“Am I hurting you?”

“Oh no,” she cried, kissing him wildly.

He came deeper inside her, his eyes closed with the intense pleasure of her. This closeness, he thought passionately, was what he had always envisioned with a woman, the one special woman he’d almost despaired of ever finding. Her warmth and giving were filling him as he was filling her with himself.

“Lean back against my hands,” he told her softly. She obeyed him instantly. “That’s right, love. Relax and drop your arms. I don’t want to hurt your shoulder.”

She flung her head back, arching her back against the support of his hands, her breasts thrust forward. Slowly he eased her onto her back, never leaving her, and supported himself above her on his elbows. Her hips rose to meet his gentle thrusts, and he moaned softly deep in his throat at her response to him. He slipped his hand between them and began to caress her warm swollen flesh. Her eyes flew open, and he saw her desire for him. He began to tremble, thrusting more urgently, more deeply, his breath raspy in the still room. He felt her legs close about his flanks, drawing him deeper, and he tried to slow himself. But she wouldn’t allow it.

She gasped his name, feeling his fingers burn white hot into the depths of her, felt him so deep inside her that he was one with her.

She screamed his name, her body tensing, her eyes closing as the convulsing, nearly painful sensations ripped through her body.

He thrust deep, making himself a part of her, spewing his seed into her, thinking at that moment that he had come home.

Chauncey quivered slightly as the gentle spasms continued to fill her. The feel of him, oh God, she thought, utterly dazed, the feel of him surrounding her, filling her, knowing her . . .

“What’s this? Why are you crying? Did I hurt you?”

His soft voice rumbled close by her ear, and she clutched her arms around his back, burying her face in his shoulder. She breathed in the scent of him, pressing her lips against him, and tasted the sheen of perspiration that covered his flesh.

“Chauncey . . .”

“I’m fine, truly fine. I just can’t seem to get enough of you.”

He arched back and looked down into her face. “You look quite proud of yourself,” he observed.

She wriggled her hips upward, drawing him inward. “I shan’t let you leave me.”

“You know, I begin to believe that having a wife is not a bad thing at all. Particularly a wife who makes me wild every night.”

“The wife feels the same away,” she said. “Del, no!”

“Sorry, sweetheart.” He eased off her onto his side. “Just give me some time to regroup my troops.”

“Yes, general, sir.” She raised her hand and lightly stroked her fingertips over his bearded jaw. “Del, if Chatca had”—she paused a moment, the word hovering in her mind—“if he had raped me, what would you have done? Would you have hated me?”

It was on the tip of his tongue to tease her and tell her that she was young and silly, but he didn’t. She was perfectly serious, and he responded in kind. “I don’t understand why a woman could possibly feel guilty if she is the victim.”

He felt a slight shudder go through her. “I think I would feel so . . . dirty, so unworthy.”

“Do you know, I have heard some men blame women for another man’s violence. I have even heard them joke about how they won’t enter a field where other men have plowed. In fact, Sam Brannan wondered in all upright honesty how I could have Lin in my house when she’d been a common whore to more men than he could count. As if it had been her decision, her choice! It took months for the haunted look to leave Lin’s eyes, to see her stand firm, not flinch when I came close to her. Men are sometimes bastards.”

“You wouldn’t have minded, then?”

“Of course. I would feel guilty myself that I allowed you so little protection that you could be violated. I would have killed the man who’d harmed you.”

She sighed deeply, nestling her face against his chest. “But there’s something not right here,” she said suddenly, pulling back to look at him. “You’re right, I can see that now. Had he raped me, it wouldn’t have been my fault. What I don’t understand is why men can think that way. After all, if it were not for them, there would be no women who were whores in the first place. Or mistresses,” she added, her eyes darkening.

He grinned down at her, lightly flicking the tip of her nose with his finger. “Your logic is terrifying,” he said.