Moonspun Magic (Magic Trilogy 3)

“Hello, wife,” he said, and laid his hand on the flat of her belly. He watched her closely in the dim light. She quivered and he let his fingers glide a bit lower.

“Rafael, I don’t . . .”

“Don’t what, Victoria?”

“I think I hurt, but I want to, and it’s almost too much and I want and want—”

He found her at that moment, and she gasped, arching upward, nearly beside herself. “Do you want me to pleasure you now, Victoria?”

She looked up at his shadowed face, turning to give him her mouth. “I don’t know what you mean. Do you mean you will kiss me again?”

“Certainly, but I want to see your face—as best I can in this darkness—when you melt for me.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You will, soon, I promise.” He kissed her, deeply this time, his tongue probing into her mouth just as his finger slipped inside her. She was small, but she would hold him, for her desire was nearly peaked. He kept up a slow in-and-out motion with his finger, then withdrew and began to caress her. He felt her tremble, felt the involuntary jerking of her hips as she sought his fingers. He lifted his head just as she reached her climax. He watched the look of utter astonishment in her eyes as her pleasure overtook her. “Rafael.” She screamed. He nearly cried out with her, his pleasure at her release was so great.

“Yes, love. Yes.”

He felt her then, slowly easing the pressure of his fingers, soothing her, feeling the small convulsions seize her in the aftershocks of her pleasure. “I want to come inside of you now, Victoria. All right?”

“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, I think I would like that.” She was surprised she could even speak, her mind felt so scattered. She felt without will, without enough power to move her fingers. She felt delicious.

He came over her and gently pulled her thighs apart. “Bend your legs. That’s it.”

She watched him guide himself into her, his face intent, his expression nearly pained. She felt him come into her, felt the tightness, the stretching, the pain.

“Rafael,” she said in a thin voice, pressing her hands against his shoulders.

“Just a bit more, Victoria. Relax. Don’t move.”

She held perfectly still, feeling him come deeper. It was odd, this feeling—another person becoming part of her. The pain became more insistent, and she gritted her teeth, not wanting him to know.

Suddenly he reached her maidenhead and he felt such a surge of relief that he nearly lost all control. His mind was whirling out of control and he blurted out, “Thank God! If Damien had had you, I don’t know what I would have done.”

He groaned then and with one powerful thrust drove through her maidenhead and slammed to the hilt insi

de her.

She screamed at the tearing pain, and bucked beneath him. He got hold of himself, barely, and lowered himself over her. “I won’t move. I’m sorry, Victoria. It won’t hurt anymore. I promise.”

She was so small, her muscles were flexing about him, driving him mad, and she was a virgin. She was truly his and only his, before and forever.

Victoria lay perfectly still. He hadn’t believed her. He had believed Damien. He hadn’t trusted her. He had lied to her just so he could bed her. Her hands dropped to her sides. She turned her face away from him on the pillow.

“Is that better, Victoria? Has the pain lessened?”

She didn’t look at him. She felt impaled, helpless, and angry.

“I hate you,” she said quite precisely.

He stared down at her averted face, but at that moment she bucked upward, hoping to dislodge him. Instead, it sent him deeper and he felt himself surging over the edge. He withdrew, then thrust deep, then again and once more. He felt himself shatter. He threw back his head, arched his back, moaning loudly, and poured himself into her.

She felt his seed, a man’s seed, she thought dully. He had truly had his way. But it had been her fault. She had wanted to believe him, had been eager for him to make love to her. She’d wanted to know so desperately what the wild feelings were, and where they led. Well, she knew now. It was short, fleeting, and terrifying because it wiped out all control, all reason. She shuddered at the pain of his entry. She still hurt, deep inside now, and it erased the lingering spurts of pleasure. She felt cold and dead inside.

“You lied to me,” she said, not moving. “You lied to me and I will never forgive you.”

Rafael was slowly coming back to reality as he had known it. The power of his climax had rendered him insensible. He was still deep inside her, held by her, and slowly he lowered himself over her, balancing his weight on his elbows. “What did you say?” He thought she’d said something, but he was too involved in recovery to make out her words.