A Million Different Ways (Horn Duet 1)

When he finished securing the knot, he reared up and studied his work. I shivered under his intense scrutiny, an erotic flush staining my pale skin. His nostrils flared and a dark, predatory glint entered his eyes. He ran his large hands assertively up and down my body, branding me with blazing heat and ownership.

God, I loved this man. I loved him fiercely, with all my heart. That well of emotion ran so deep in me that I still hadn’t reached the bottom of it. It had been so different with Aleksander. My love for him had been mild mannered, economical. My love for Sebastian was a wild thing––beautiful and rare, and totally unmanageable.

He orchestrated an assault on my senses with the tactical dexterity of a five star general, breaking me down a little at a time with his tongue and his hands and his teeth. He moved lower, circling around my sex and never quite reaching it. A mist of nervous sweat covered me from head to toe. I writhed and strained against the silk bindings. Widening my legs, I tried to urge him closer but he ignored me. His tongue grazed my sweet spot and I screamed in encouragement. My toes flexed, my body bucked off the bed, chasing the feeling. My need was so acute that begging was not beneath me.

“Sebastian, please.”

“Quiet.” He sounded detached, chilly––something was off. He continued torturing me, caressing, dipping inside, quickly retreating when he realized I was building. I screamed in protest and gripped my knees together.

“I need you, please, please, please. I need you now,” I panted.

He answered in a deceptively calm voice, “I’m not concerned with what you need. It’s pretty clear you’re not concerned with what I need.” My head snapped up when I realized what he’d said. Then he covered my clit with his mouth and it dropped right back down on the pillow. He bent me to his will with his mouth and his hands. The strain of being kept unsatisfied broke me. I was being punished and we both knew it. “How does it feel, Vera? Are you frustrated? Angry? Do you feel powerless?” he said quietly, his voice laced with bitterness. I was exhausted and scared of my own feelings so it didn’t take much for tears to fill my eyes.

“Yes!…go ahead, punish me if it’ll make you feel better.” My body went limp in defeat, a tear escaping down my temple. He sat up and scrutinized me, the hardness in his eyes fading away as his expression shifted to concern. His gaze never left my face while he untied the silk. I turned on my side, away from him, and curled into a ball. I couldn’t look at him; I would burst out sobbing if I did. Lying down behind me, he curved his body around mine.

“I’m sorry,” he said as he stroked the hair off my face. There was genuine remorse in his low, raspy voice. His lips dropped to my throat, licking the salty tears away. “I’ll make it up to you. Let me make love to you, Vera, please…I’m begging you.”

Assenting, I turned and raised my swollen lips to his, allowing him to kiss me, sweetly, tenderly. He began stroking my body in earnest, brushing his skilled fingers through my dark curls, and slipping inside of me, all his attention focused on my pleasure. Fueled by the remains of all the tension that had built up, desire exploded between us. In a flurry of impatience, I fumbled with the condom and he almost ripped it. When he positioned himself in the cradle of my thighs, our eyes locked and an unspoken apology passed between us, the moment expanding into something of greater consequence than either one of us had anticipated.

This feels so right.

I held him with my arms and legs and everything else I had to give––all my love and desire. He rocked his hips and, as he drove his hard body into me, my mind and heart screamed out all the words that my lips couldn’t.

“Home,” he whispered, wonder shining in those brilliant amber eyes. He made love to me like he promised he would, every thrust driving out pain and anger, every thrust pushing me closer to ecstasy. When he tilted my hips up, he slid so deep I could feel him in my womb, part of me forever, engraved on my soul. And then I let go and raced towards oblivion.

My muscles contracted and pulsed, insisting that he join me. And he did, reared up on a final thrust and shouted my name while his beautiful face twisted in rapture. When the aftershocks faded, he sagged back down and tucked his face into the curve of my neck, the full weight of him pressing me down into the mattress. I held him and stroked his back, ran my nails lightly over his skin, relishing the feel of him…the exquisite moment.