She drew back with a jerk yet could not escape completely; Ranulf caught her wrist in a grasp of velvet and drew her down beside the tub. Weak-limbed and dazed, she sank to her knees.
“Show me how you can please me, vixen,” he ordered, pressing her palm to his breast so that she could feel his thundering heart.
He compelled her to wash him. Lathering her palm with soap, he guided it over his body, until her own primitive need to touch him took over. Her trembling fingers slid down over his hair-roughened chest, stroking lower, dipping below the warm water, gliding over the hard ridges of his stomach.
When she hesitated at his flat, hard-muscled belly, Ranulf leaned forward to brush his lips against her flushed face, her jutting breasts.
“All of me. My rod is stiff and aching. Hold me in your hand.”
Ariane obliged, finding his granite member slick and throbbing with heat that had nothing to do with the temperature of the water.
“Harder, tighter . . . you cannot hurt me.”
She squeezed gently, and the passion that blazed in his eyes shook her to the core.
“Ah . . . yes . . . please me . . .” With a low groan, Ranulf closed his eyes and let the male ache wash over him in ripples of pleasure-pain. His hips thrust upward into her hand, once, twice . . . and then suddenly he drew back, refusing to seek his ecstasy alone.
Rising half out of the water, Ranulf slid his powerful arms around her and lifted her into the tub to sit astride him, her knees on either side of his hips, her thighs open wide.
Ariane gasped in protest and struggled in his grasp, but Ranulf’s arms closed around her to hold her still. “Hush,” he rasped. “You have never ridden a man.”
“ ’Tis not natural . . .”
“Oh . . . but it is, sweeting.” His eyes smoldered with gold flame. “The most natural thing in the world.”
His hands closed over her buttocks and lifted her slightly, only to lower her deliberately onto his shaft. The rigid length of him filled her with tantalizing slowness, impaling her. Whimpering at the shocking fullness of him, Ariane arched her back and rocked against him, her ripe, wet breasts pressing against the hardness of his chest.
His response was a guttural sound and a deeper thrust. He could scarcely bear the delicious thrill such deep penetration sent through him. He shuddered convulsively, grinding his teeth to hold back the primal sound rumbling in his chest. The slow, instinctive undulation of her hips was driving him mad, as was the spasmic clasping of her inner muscles around him.
His neck corded with the force of his denial, Ranulf pressed deeper, burying his shaft to the hilt.
She gave an incoherent cry of pleasure, even as her slender body clenched, and then she startled him by sinking her teeth into his shoulder.
He laughed, a low, male sound of triumph, and gripped her buttocks harder, working her up and down in rhythm with his thrusts, until Ariane’s body caught fire, blazing out of control. Her gasping breaths sounded loud in his ears as she pumped her hips wildly and sent bathwater splashing over the tub’s edge. A dozen heartbeats later, she erupted, arching against him, her head thrown back in helpless surrender, her nails digging into his flesh.
At her low, keening, helpless cry, Ranulf abandoned his own rigid control and hauled her closer, his rough excitement matching her own frenzy as he surged deep inside her.
“Sweet God! . . .”
Through a heated haze of awareness, Ariane felt his lean, powerful body clench, heard the hoarse unintelligible groan Ranulf gave as the convulsions of passion claimed his control and he began the shuddering fall into ecstasy after her.
They clung to each other when it was over, breathing hard as the waves of savage, unrestrained pleasure washed over them and receded.
At last recovering her dazed senses, Ariane realized she was lying limply in Ranulf’s arms, her face buried in the wet curve of his shoulder. He was stroking her naked back, stroking her hair, his hands gentle and soothing. With a soft sigh of repletion, she nestled against him, never wanting to move again.
Thus it startled her when she felt Ranulf swelling and growing rigid inside her. Her sleepy eyes opened wide as he gathered her in his arms and stood up, water cascading from their bodies.
“The bath can wait,” he murmured. “I cannot.”
Stepping from the tub, he carried her to the bed and laid her upon the mattress in a single, sure motion, never breaking contact. Sinking deeper between her legs, he covered her wet, naked body, pressing her thighs wide apart with his. His urgent need to have her was like an unquenchable fever. His rod was engorged and aching again, even though it had only been moments since he had experienced the most exquisite pleasure of his life.
He gritted his teeth as he thrust upward into her hot, silky sweetness. She shuddered and arched her back in sensual response.
“No, open your eyes, sweeting,” Ranulf commanded. “Watch me when I take you.”
Ariane opened her eyes to stare at him. His own eyes were hot, his damp raven hair falling over his broad forehead, his dark-complected skin stretched taut over prominent cheekbones.
“Watch as I enter you.” Withdrawing his shaft most of the way, he raised up on his hands, forming a wide space between their bodies.