She gave a start when he reached above her head for a pillow and carefully placed it beneath her hips. Her cheeks flamed scarlet. “M-My lord Ranulf . . . what are you doing?”
Without replying, he shifted his position and moved over her, to kneel between her parted legs. She felt the soft rush of his breath as he bent to kiss her belly.
“Be still,” he commanded when her hips shifted nervously.
His heated eyes roaming her body, he ran his hands slowly up her quivering inner thighs, making her open wide for him. Ariane trembled in mortification and anticipation. He seemed to be studying the triangle of red-gold curls between her thighs.
With sensual determination, his hands slid beneath her body to separately cup the pale spheres of her buttocks. Ariane bit her lower lip to keep from whimpering as he slowly squeezed and kneaded, as his fingers stroked the dark crevice between.
“Ranulf . . .” she murmured in protest. “You should not . . . ’tis sinful . . .”
“Hush,” he ordered in a deep tone that vibrated with urgency, resonating in her blood and the throbbing between her legs.
Parting the sleek folds or her cleft with his thumbs, he traced a probing pad over the small, hidden nub of her sex, slowly circling.
Ariane whimpered.
To her infinite shock, Ranulf bent and brazenly pressed his mouth against her there. She went rigid from an unbearable surge of pleasure.
“Nay!” she gasped, trying to pull away.
Ranulf laughed softly at her reaction, even as he captured her wrists and pressed her hands against her sides, preventing her from moving. Bending to her again, he found her essence with his mouth. He licked the heated flesh, making her feel the soft slither of his tongue . . . his warm lips sucking softly in a kiss.
Ariane trembled under his erotic assault. His scandalous attentions stunned her. What wicked madness was this?
And yet she could not summon the will to protest as his tongue lapped at her, plying the swollen, aching folds of her flesh. His probing kiss inflamed her with sensation, robbing her of breath. Her skin grew hot as he ravished her senses; an exquisite pleasure, so intense it was almost painful, shot through her body.
He gave her no opportunity to evade his burning
mouth or the arousing lash of his tongue. He held her captive, as though she were his prisoner, meant solely for his heathen pleasure. His tongue swirled and licked and stabbed her with fire.
Ariane clenched her teeth to stifle the moan building in her throat at his wicked assault, but Ranulf went on tasting her to his ruthless satisfaction. The musky, primitive scent of her made his loins grind with need. Her taste was intoxicating, hot and sweet as wild honey. Mercilessly he stroked her, savoring her taste, nibbling on her succulent sweetness, until her soft whimpers told him she was hot and throbbing for him.
Then deliberately, with exquisite care, he thrust his tongue within her, a tantalizing act of primitive possession. The brazen invasion forced a shuddering moan from her. She arched and cried out in denial, her hips surging up to meet his feasting mouth.
“Ranulf . . . sweet God . . .”
A spiking surge of lust ripped through Ranulf’s senses. She was hot and excited and oblivious to everything but what he was doing to her. Her low, rapturous cry thrilled him. His grip on her buttocks tightened as she twisted against him, writhing. He held her surging body down, his mouth pressed hard against her as she shook with convulsions of pleasure.
When the last aftershock had passed, his mouth tenderly grazed her heated flesh, now slick with her own dew, then swiftly moved up her sweat-dampened body. Without giving her time to recover, Ranulf stretched above Ariane and settled his hips in the cradle of her thighs. He could wait no longer. Never had he been so hard, so near to bursting.
Holding himself above her, he kneed her thighs wide apart. With the searing tip of his shaft poised at the very heart of her, though, he hesitated. Had she lain with another man like this? Driven other foolish swains into a frenzy of desire for her with her bewitching, responsive body? Or was she truly the innocent she seemed?
Trying to dismiss his irrational jealousy, he concentrated on the beautiful woman beneath him. He needed this, needed her, craved the fierce release only she could give him.
Dazed from the fiery explosion that had shattered her senses and set her pulse pounding, Ariane reached for him eagerly, never wavering though her lover prepared to invade her body with his huge shaft.
“Ranulf . . . please,” she breathed, her voice holding a plea, for what she knew not.
“Hush, sweeting,” he murmured hoarsely in return. “Open yourself to me.”
All of his natural instincts screamed at Ranulf to take her swiftly, to ease the fierce, almost desperate ache in his loins, but he sank slowly into her, with teeth-gritting caution. Despite his care, her thighs clenched around him in a futile effort to halt the spearing, alien intrusion. When he felt the fragile barrier denying him entrance, Ranulf almost drew back, afraid he could not control himself, afraid he would cause her pain, yet he could not stop now . . . could not stop . . . could not . . .
Ariane winced in pain as her tender, virgin flesh stretched and split, and cried out when he pressed more fully within her. The pressure was almost too great to bear. His rigid length was a huge lance thrusting within her, a mighty weapon that was tearing her asunder.
She heard herself sob, felt the gentle brush of his mouth as he tenderly kissed her lips in an effort to soothe the ache.
Helpless to do more, Ranulf held himself completely still as she shuddered around him, wanting to curse and shout in triumph at the same time. A virgin! A chaste innocent untouched by any other man. She had not lied to him! He was her first lover; she was his now. They were joined together intimately, his hard flesh buried in the heated, sweet center of her body.