Devils Bride (Cynster 1)

He felt large, much larger than she'd expected. She sucked in a breath; under the weight of his hands, she sank still lower. Hard as forged iron, hot as unquenched steel, he pressed into her. She shook her head again. "This is not going to work."

"It will." She felt his words within her; he was, if anything, even tenser than she, rock-hard muscles flickering. "You'll stretch to take me-women's bodies are built that way."

He was the expert. Through the maelstrom of emotions besetting her-uncertainty, desire, and giddy need, laced with distant remnants of modesty, all subsumed beneath the most desperate longing she'd ever known-Honoria clung to that fact. The inferno inside her swelled; she sank down.

And stopped.

Immediately, Devil lifted her, not quite losing her clinging heat. "Sink down again." She did, until her maidenhead again impeded their progress. Under his hands, she repeated the maneuver again and again.

She was hot, slick and very tight; once she was moving freely, he brushed his lips against her temple. "Kiss me."

She lifted her head immediately, swollen lips parted, eager for more. He took her mouth voraciously, struggling to harness the wild passion that drove him, battling to remain in control long enough to avoid unnecessarily hurting her. He was going to hurt her enough as it was.

On the heels of the thought came the deed. One, powerful upward thrust, timed to meet her downward slide, enforced by the pressure of his hands on her hips, and it was done. He breached her in that single movement, forging deep into her body, filling her, stretching her.

She screamed, the sound smothered by their kiss. Her body tensed; so did his.

Focusing completely on her, waiting for her softening, the first sign of acceptance that he knew would come, Devil grimly denied the primal urge to lose himself in her heat, to plunder the scalding softness that clasped him, to assuage his driving need.

Their lips had parted; they were both breathing raggedly. From under his lashes, he watched as she moistened her lips with her tongue.

"Was that the scream you were talking about?"

"No." He touched his lips to the corner of hers. "There'll be no more pain-from now on, you'll only scream with pleasure."

No more pain. Her senses awash, overloaded with sensation, Honoria could only hope. The memory of the sharp agony that had speared her was so intense she could still feel it. Yet with every breath, with every heartbeat, the heat of him, the glow suffusing her, eased the ache. She tried to shift; his hands firmed, holding her still.

"Wait."

She had to obey. Until that moment, she hadn't appreciated how completely in his control she was. The hard, throbbing reality that had invaded her, intimately filling her, impinged fully on her mind. Vuln

erability swept her, rippling through her, all the way to…

Her senses focused on the place where they joined. She heard Devil groan. Blinking, she looked up; his eyes were shut, his features like stone. Under her hands, the muscles of his shoulders were taut, locked in some phantom battle. Inside her, the steady throb of him radiated heat and a sense of barely reined urgency. Her pain had gone. On the thought, the last of her tension ebbed; the last vestiges of resistance fell away. Tentatively, her gaze on his face, she eased from his hold, and rose slowly on her knees.

"Yes." The single word was heavy with encouragement.

He stopped her at the precise point beyond which their contact would break. She sensed his eagerness, the same compelling urgency that welled within her; she needed no direction to sink slowly down, enthralled by the feel of his steely hardness sliding, slick and hot, deep into her.

She did it again, and again, head falling back as she slid sensuously down, opening her senses completely, savoring every drawn-out second. Their guidance no longer required, his hands roved, reclaiming her breasts, the full curves of her bottom, the sensitive backs of her thighs. All awkwardness, all reticence, had vanished; lifting her head, Honoria draped her arms about his neck and sought his lips with hers. The glide of their bodies, uniting in a rhythm as old as the moon, felt exquisitely right. She gave him her mouth; as he claimed it, she tightened her arms, pressing herself to him, drawn to the promise contained within his powerful body, flagrantly demanding more.

He drew back from the kiss; under his lashes, she saw his eyes gleam.

"Are you all right?"

His hands traced mesmerizing circles over her bottom. At the peak of her rise, Honoria held his gaze-and slowly, concentrating on the rigid hardness invading her, sank down.

She felt his rippling shudder and saw his jaw firm. His eyes flashed. Greatly daring, she licked the vein pulsing at the base of his throat. "Actually, I find this quite…" She was so far past breathless her words shook.

"Surprising?" His voice was a rumble almost too low to be heard.

Catching a desperate breath, Honoria closed her eyes. "Enthralling."

His laugh was so deep she felt it in her marrow. "Trust me." His lips traced the curve of her ear. "There's a great deal more pleasure to come."

"Ah, yes," Honoria murmured, trying desperately to cling to sanity. "I believe you claim to be a past master at this exercise." Dragging in a tight breath, she rose upon him. "Does that make me your mistress?"

"No." Devil held his breath as she sank, excruciatingly slowly, down. "That makes you my pupil." It would make her his slave, but he'd no intention of telling her that, nor that, if she applied herself diligently, the connection might just work both ways.