The Lover

“What, sweeting?”

“I…I am so hot…”

“Not hot enough.” His voice was soft, husky, stroking like mystical fingers through her. “I want you feverish…all wanton and trembling for me.” His delicate kisses resumed, his mouth playing over her skin, all the while his hands kept up their magic.

“You don’t yet know how much pleasure your body can give you, but you will…I intend to teach you. I will fire your blood until you moan my n

ame and forget everything but how good it feels between us.”

He was already teaching her, Sabrina thought as she shifted restlessly. Dear God, what was happening to her? How could she bear this tight ache in her breasts, this brazen heat uncoiling between her thighs, this hot, shameless need?

It was some moments before she realized his ministrations had ceased. Slowly her eyelids fluttered open. Even more slowly she turned her face on the pillow to look at him.

He had stretched out beside her, and was gazing at her with a compelling tenderness in his eyes. “Now, ’tis your turn.”

“M-Mine?”

“Aye, to arouse me. Touch me, sweet Sabrina,” he murmured, his voice rich and commanding.

He remained relaxed and still, while she found the courage to obey. Tentatively she stretched out her hand to touch his shoulder, feeling the smooth shifting pattern of muscle beneath the sleek velvet of his skin. When she would have faltered, he reached up and clasped her hand, drawing her palm against his breast.

The center of his chest was covered with a triangle of silky-looking black hair, and her fingers tingled as they brushed the soft fur.

“Look at me,” he demanded in the lush quiet.

Her heart skipped a beat. Even as he drew her hand lower, he rolled onto his back, letting her see all of him.

Sabrina drew a sharp breath at the raw power of his male body. His erection lay arched against his belly, reaching nearly to his navel. He was huge. The sheer masculinity disturbed her more than his size.

With gentle relentlessness, he moved her hand downward, over his abdomen, flat and ridged with muscle, till her fingers curled around his rigid member, hot steel covered with soft velvet.

“’Tis…unnatural, touching you this way,” she protested in a hoarse whisper.

A slow, sensual brilliant smile curved his mouth. “Ah, no, sweetheart. ’Tis natural as breathing. Do you feel what you do to me?”

“I…I’ve done nothing….”

“Indeed you have. A man swells and grows hard as his desire mounts. And as you see, your attractions fascinate me.”

Rolling on his side, he slid his hand between her thighs. Ignoring her soft intake of breath, he bared her velvet to his fingers.

“A lass, on the other hand…grows wet and slick with her own honey.” He slipped a finger into her cleft. “See…your body is preparing itself to receive me.” His voice was tender, his golden-throated words spellbinding. “Will you receive me, sweeting?”

He waited for her response. When she nodded tentatively, he reached for her and drew Sabrina to him, pulling her into his arms so that all her pale softness was enfolded in his powerful embrace. Her pebbled, rose-tipped breasts pressed against his naked chest; her stomach pillowed the rock-hard flesh at his groin.

His member was intimidating, and yet strangely, as she gazed into his blue, blue eyes, she felt no fear, but rather an unfamiliar, quivering sense of intimacy. She lay there willingly, absorbing the hard, warm strength of him, feeling the strong beat of his heart, the burning of his flesh against hers. She wanted this. She wanted Niall to show her what it felt to be a woman. And she could almost believe, as she lay trembling in his arms, that the dark light she saw in his eyes reflected her desire.

He kissed her then, with the same exquisite languor he had shown before, enveloping her senses in the smell of him. He had a deliciously wicked kiss, so passionate, so thoroughly devouring that she could think of nothing but Niall and the powerful sensations he aroused in her. He pulled her dewy lower lip between his teeth, nipping the soft flesh, while his thigh rode intimately between hers.

Sabrina bit back a moan, trying to control her breathing, trying to deny the pulsing need. Yet all the while his long-fingered hands continued stroking her body, working a wicked sorcery on her.

A moment later, Niall heard her soft whimper with satisfaction. He could have resorted to even more provocative methods to arouse her, he knew. He could have called on his vast experience, employing any of his myriad carnal skills to drive her to heights of desire she’d never known, till she hungered to do his bidding. Yet she was not just another of his casual lovers. She was his wife, a lovely innocent who had a right to expect more from him. He desperately wanted her first time to be filled with pleasure. And he wanted her first climax to be with him inside her.

Deliberately he eased over her, spreading her thighs and positioning his throbbing shaft. Poised at her slick entrance, he hesitated, feeling the vulnerable, trembling feminine body beneath him. He didn’t want to hurt her, but this one instance could not be helped.

His blue eyes like jewels, he whispered, “Take me in, love…sheathe me in your dark silk…”

He pressed home then, thrusting slowly, carefully inside her, feeling her flesh stretch to accommodate his size, all the while watching her flushed face. She seemed determined to bear whatever agony he had in store for her.