"I've never done this," she blurted. "I've never kissed anyone else or touched anyone else. I don't have a clue what I'm doing." That was the strict truth. She was terrified she'd do something wrong and he wouldn't want to be with her. She hadn't wanted him to know ahead of time. She'd read extensively, but no man would court her, not with their mothers being friends with Osamu. No one wanted to incur her wrath and her never-ending revenge.
She held her breath. Anxious. Waiting.
His smile was slow in coming, but when it did, it was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen. He stroked his finger from the base of her throat down to her belly button. "I know what I'm doing, farfallina mia. Have no worries in that department. I swear I'll be gentle with you."
Ricco had never felt possessive of a woman in his life. He'd never wanted to belong to a woman or have one belong to him. He didn't remember being innocent or vulnerable. He'd worked too hard to shed both after the experience in Japan. He needed to be tough and scary. He went through women, not because he needed variety but because he'd never found the one that he needed. He hadn't found Mariko. She was everything he wasn't. Vulnerable. Delicate. Innocent. She had the heart of a warrior and could dispense justice as easily as he could, but her heart had not been hardened by the harsh experiences of her life.
He cupped her face in his hand--that beloved face. He wanted to wake up every morning to her face, to the gentleness in her eyes. That soft, sweet voice. Her body. All his. He bent his head to take her mouth. Her lips trembled under his. He loved the shape and feel of them. He teased her lower lip with his teeth, nipping and easing the sting with his tongue. He traced the seam, waiting for her to part her lips so he could be inside.
Kissing Mariko was like transporting himself into an erotic world of feeling, of heat and fire. Once he'd kissed her, he knew he could never rid himself of the obsession--and he didn't want to. He'd surrendered himself before he'd known he was in any kind of danger. He kissed her over and over until he felt her body relax beneath his.
He breathed her name, his own personal magic, and kissed his way down her throat. One knee slipped between her legs, nudging them apart. He felt her tense, and he murmured to her softly against her bare skin. "Relax for me, amore. Trust me to keep you safe."
"I feel like I'm flying again," she whispered, her voice shocked. "How can you do that when you're just kissing my skin?"
"You do that for me." He gave her the truth when he never would have told another soul.
"I do?"
Her hands were on his shoulders, fingernails digging into his skin, flares of heat shooting down his spine at the streaks of fire the action produced. Dio, he loved her hands on him. He loved the evidence of her wildcat, the one that emerged when she wasn't thinking too hard.
"You do," he assured, taking the opportunity to slide his other knee between her legs, wedging them open so he could sweep his hand from her belly button to her mound. He went up on his knees so that he was kneeling.
She gasped. Her gaze jumped from his face to his hand.
"What does that feel like?"
Her eyes went back to his face, her gaze searching his. He waited patiently, his hand gently moving, fingers finding her damp and ready. He didn't take his gaze from hers. He watched her take a breath, her breasts moving with the air in her lungs.
"Fire. A trail of fire."
"What does this make you feel?"
He pushed his finger into her, stretching her slowly, forcing his way through the tight folds. His cock throbbed and jerked, so in need. So ready to feel her sheath surrounding him. He felt like he'd waited his entire life for this moment, this woman.
Her gaze dropped to his cock as he circled it with his free hand. Her eyes widened. She looked a little frightened, but her slick cream coated his finger, allowing him to slip a little deeper.
"Needy. Desperate."
He loved that she was honest with him. He loved the way her hair was wild, spilling over the pillow, the way her exotic eyes had gone to amber, and her skin felt like silk. He wanted to see her like this every night. Wake up every morning to her.
He reached over to the nightstand, thankful he'd remembered to put condoms close. He was going to make certain to protect her. He wanted her to know that he wasn't marrying her for the rider community. To have children. He wanted her to always know she was first in his heart. His choice. No, even more than that. He rolled on the condom, loving the way she watched, as if it was an important detail she would need to learn. Twice her tongue came out to moisten her lips, and when he caught her legs and pulled them around him, she made a sexy little sound that sent a vibration right through his cock. Once more his hand tested her.
"You're ready for me, amore."
"I feel ready," she admitted. "So ready. I want to just scream at you to get on with it, but I'm scared, too."
He loved that she trusted him enough to admit both to him. She wasn't coy or shy; she was willing to make her own demands even if she was a little afraid.
He pressed the head of his cock to her damp entrance. Heat flared through him and he caught his breath. His body trembled with need. That had never happened to him before.
"Ricco." Demand was in her voice.
He flashed his wicked grin, but he didn't let her impatience hurry him. He wanted this to be good for her, and no matter the cost to him, he was going to give that to her. He sank into her hot, wet, tight sheath. The sensitive head of his cock felt on fire. Gripped hard. Squeezed. Stroked. He clenched his teeth and forced his body to stay still when his hips wanted to thrust forward hard, to bury his cock deep. Instead, he made slow circles with his fingers on her hips, trying to ease her tension.
"I can't breathe."
She was panting, her breath coming in ragged little gasps. He felt like doing a little panting of his own. Fire could be exquisite, and the tight sheath surrounding him was just that. He inched forward and her eyes went wide and shocked. He had to breathe deeply as her muscles clamped down like a vise. A sweet, hot vise.
"You're too big. It burns." Her hands went to his, although she didn't push him away.
"You're very tight, Mariko," he said, using his rope master voice, the one that always steadied her. "Give your body a minute to adjust. It will. Trust me, amore, you were born for me."
Her gaze clung to his and he waited, her hands on his until the tension drained out of her and left her face. She nodded. "Much better."
He wanted it great for her, not just "much better," but she was new at it and he wasn't the smallest man ever born. Patience. He chanted it over and over in his mind. He slipped in another inch and then he was bumping her thin barrier, all the while watching her face.
She was squirming now, making it difficult for him to go slow. Every shift of her body sent ripples through her tight muscles so they danced and massaged and milked his cock. He threw back his head, beads of sweat dotting his forehead. He deserved fucking sainthood for this. Dio, he'd never felt anything like it.
"Ricco, I need--"
She broke off as he surged forward, past her barrier, pushing through the tight folds so they opened for him, just enough to let him in. He wanted to howl it was so good, the fire streaking up his cock, spreading through his groin and up his spine. He buried himself deep and stilled again, giving her body time to adjust.
"You good?" She had to be. He wasn't certain he was going to survive.
She nodded her head, a slow smile curving her mouth. She was good. That meant so was he. He bent over her, his cock stroking inside her. She gasped and her muscles clamped down on him, the friction incredible as he slowly withdrew. Planting a hand on either side of her head, he began to move in her. Slowly at first, to make certain she could take it, and then, when her body responded with more damp fire, he set a fast, hard rhythm.
Fire surrounded his shaft, an exquisite burn as she clamped down like a silken fist. He threw back his head, breathing deeply, his gaze locked on her face to absorb the perfection of the sens
ation and the beauty of the passion there. Her breath came in little pants. Her skin was flushed, her eyes dazed, gaze clinging to his for reassurance.
Her body writhed on the sheets and her fingernails streaked more fire down his back. Dio, he loved that. Loved every second with her. He plunged deep and hard, burying his body again and again in her, the scorching friction creating flames burning through his body like a raging firestorm.
Mariko couldn't look away from his face and the dark passion stamped there. He looked utterly sensual, completely focused, an ancient samurai warrior claiming her for his own. He moved in her faster and harder. Every hard thrust sent jolts of pleasure rippling through her body like waves taking her higher and higher until fear began to creep in. She couldn't let go. She didn't know how.
She wasn't certain if she was going to live through her first time. Her breasts brushed his chest, so sensitive she felt as if pinpoints of fire brushed over her nipples each time. Lightning seemed to rip through her body, sizzling through her bloodstream with a rush of white-hot heat connecting her breasts to her sheath.
Fire roared through her, threatening to destroy her. She couldn't quite catch her breath, and there was no stopping the sensations swamping her. She looked up at him. Ricco. She felt him in her then. With her. Connected. His hands were steady and certain. His shaft swelled, the friction growing even hotter. She found his dark gaze with her frightened one. She could see tenderness. Something more she was afraid to name.
"Let go, farfallina mia. Let yourself fly with me."
She was used to that dark velvet voice. She knew his strength and power. She knew he would catch her. Breathing deeply, she let go. The ripples gathered in force until the sensations were giant swells. Thunder pounded in her ears. Her blood rushed hot and wild through her veins. Flames kissed her skin. Her body clamped down on his shaft, squeezing and milking, taking him with her. His arms tightened around her as she felt herself flung out into the stars, whirling around and floating, soaring, flying high with him. With Ricco. A shocked cry escaped and she heard Ricco's hoarse chant as he emptied himself into her. Then he collapsed over top of her and she took his full weight.
She stayed very still, afraid if she moved she would lose that feeling of euphoria. She stroked her fingers through his dark, thick hair, breathing shallowly, determined that she really didn't need air to breathe, she only needed to hold on to him. He groaned and pushed up slightly.
"That was beautiful. Wild." He brushed her eyelids with kisses. "Are you okay?"
She nodded, not wanting to speak at all, not wanting the moment to end. Her heart had begun to settle, the roaring in her ears subsiding. Her body still felt as if it were floating, but now she no longer felt connected to him. She honestly didn't know if she was withdrawing, or if it was Ricco, but she forced a smile. He frowned and withdrew, his heavy cock sliding over the sensitive bundle of nerves, triggering another orgasm.
She gasped and rolled, turning on her side, so she could draw up her knees.
"I'll be right back, Mariko." He knotted the condom and moved off to the bathroom.
She lay there, still a little dazed, but panic had set in. Heart pounding, she sat up, looking wildly around. He'd made it clear he didn't hold women all night or have them in his bed. What was she supposed to do? She should have asked before she'd gone to his room. It would have been so much smarter to go to her room and then he'd have to leave, not her. She had no clothes. Her robe was in the studio.
There was only one thing to do. A shadow. She had to get into a shadow and find a way out of his room before he came back from the bathroom. Her first inclination was to grab the sheet and cover up, but the sheet wouldn't go into the tube with her, as the specially made clothes for the riders did. She flung it aside and leapt to her feet.
She felt him on her skin. Inside her. Everywhere. He was branded deep in her body, but more--and she'd known it would happen--he was there forever in her heart. She wrapped her arms around herself and stepped into the nearest shadow that was thrown toward the door. It led right under it, except she was forced out of the tube right at the door itself. Nothing got under there. She'd run into that before when she'd first gotten there and wanted to explore his room.
What did people do? She reached for the doorknob, feeling foolish. He hadn't locked her in. He didn't keep women, he discarded them immediately. She wasn't about to be the awkward situation in his home he couldn't get rid of.
"Whoa. Stop, Mariko. Where are you going?" He reached around her, his hand above her head, preventing the door from opening. "What's wrong, farfallina?"
She went very still, wishing she knew how to disappear. It used to work when she was a child, but Ricco saw her no matter what--and he was so close. His body pressed right up against hers. She could feel every inch of him, all man, all muscle, against her back and bottom. His cock, the moment he came into contact with her, skin to skin, went from semihard to just plain hard.
His finger slid down the nape of her neck. His breath was warm, stirring the thick mane of hair falling around her shoulders. "Amore. Where are you going?"
"Back to my room." She said it to the door. That thick, heavy door with something stopping shadows from sliding underneath.
"Why?" His hand moved her hair so that he could trail kisses down the nape of her neck, following the path his finger had taken. His hands slid up and down her arms, warming her when she shivered.
She was shivering, not because she was cold, but because she couldn't resist his touch and she wanted--needed--to be strong.
"I know you don't like women in your bed, Ricco. I'm not going to make this difficult. You saved me from having to have an arranged marriage with Kichiro and I appreciate it. I really do." She stayed still, facing the door, feeling him breathe. Feeling as if they still wore the same skin. His hands never stopped moving, caressing her arms, up and down, his breath on the nape of her neck, lips so close she felt them pressed into her neck.
He remained silent, giving her time to pull her scattered thoughts around her like a cloak. "A good shadow rider never goes after someone until he or she is totally convinced beyond any doubt that the person deserves justice. I had to research you. Thoroughly. You aren't a man ever to be satisfied with one woman. That doesn't make you a bad person, but you're not husband material. I won't be that woman in your bed that you wake up resenting."
She was so proud of her voice. She kept it even. Low. Nonjudgmental. Most of all, the bone-deep sorrow she felt wasn't there. Not even a hint of it.
Ricco groaned and pressed his face between her shoulder blades, his arms circling her under her breasts, holding her tightly so she was more a prisoner than she had been in the ropes. There was a moment of sheer panic, and then she felt his distress. His breathing had changed subtly, but it had. His heartbeat had accelerated.
"I'm honestly not trying to hurt you. I want you to know you're off the hook. I'm not expecting marriage and fidelity just because we had sex. I knew what I was doing and made the decision myself. I wanted to be with you. I wanted you to be the one I chose, not the council. Not the riders. You were my choice, and I'm all grown up, Ricco. You have no responsibility toward me at all. As soon as we can, we'll announce that the engagement didn't work out."
There. She'd absolved him. Every man would like that, right? He had to let go of her before he noticed her trembling. Her reaction to him. The sorrow eating away at her at the loss of her silly dream. She knew better than to dream. Or to hope. Or to want or wish for something. Especially something as big and real as Ricco Ferraro. A good man. The man who had managed to penetrate her heart. He was there for good. But she wasn't a silly schoolgirl. She knew the difference between husband material and a man who would be miserable with one woman. His mother had it right.
"Are you finished?" he asked softly.
Fingers of desire danced down her spine. His lips were against her skin, speaking there so she felt every word formed. His hold on her hadn't loosened at all. "Yes." She could barely get the word out.
"Then come back to bed."
She couldn't. If she went back there with him and he seduced her all over again, she'd be so lost she would agree to anything, and she knew she'd regret it. Self-respect was the only thing she had left to her. She shook her head because she couldn't speak. She couldn't actually tell him no. She wanted to go back to bed with him, but pride wouldn't allow it. Pride and self-preservation.
Ricco shocked her by letting her go, turning her around and catching her under her legs to lift her. She had no choice but to grab on to his neck to hold herself upright. He looked down at her upturned face.
"Do you know how amazing you are?"
She shook her head but stared at the door, afraid to move or breathe.
"I have family. I've always had them. No matter what happens in my life, they're here for me. You only have your brother, yet of the two of us, I'm the far more broken one. That alone speaks to your incredible strength, Mariko. Beautiful, strong and so ready to sacrifice for me. No, you're right, I wasn't the marrying kind. I never wanted to have a woman spend the night with me because I knew she wasn't the right woman. You are that woman. When a man looks his entire existence, waiting to find her, and she shows up, believe me, amore, he recognizes her."
She was afraid to move or speak. If she misunderstood him, or dared to believe him, she might shatter. She could only stare up at him, wondering how he could say such things to her, afraid to believe him.
"I'm willing to give you just about anything in this world you want, Mariko. I have the means to do it. You don't want to be a rider, you don't have to be. You don't want children with me, you don't have to have them. I don't give a damn what the council says. I'll stand in front of you, beside you or watch your back. But you're not leaving this room until we have an understanding. I've had everything I don't want. Believe me when I tell you, I recognize what I do want and I'll do anything to keep it."
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
His past had finally caught up with him. Ricco stared down into Mariko's beloved face. He detested that he had hurt her in any way. She'd been hurt enough by the people who had taken her into their home--the ones who should have shown her love. He brushed her forehead with his mouth and placed her back in the middle of his bed, following her so that she had no chance to escape if she was so inclined.