Devils Bride (Cynster 1)

On her next downward slide, she pressed lower; he nudged deeper. Her breath hitched; instinctively, she tightened about him. Devil set his teeth against a groan.

Eyes wide, she looked up at him, her breathing shallow and fast. "It feels… very strange… to have you… inside me." Breasts rising and falling, brushing his chest, she moistened her lips. "I really didn't think… you'd fit."

Devil locked his jaw-along with every other muscle he possessed. After a moment of fraught silence, he managed to say: "I'll fit-eventually."

"Event…?"

Her eyes grew round-he didn't wait for more. He caught her lips in a ravishing kiss and, anchoring her hips against him, tumbled her back onto the pillows.

He'd chosen their earlier position to breach her, placing a limit on how deep he could go, helpful given the force of his instincts. But the time for limits had passed; his swift rearrangement landed her on her back among the pillows, his hips between her thighs, his staff still within her.

She tensed as his weight trapped her; instantly, he lifted his chest and shoulders from her, straightening his arms, his hands sinking into the down on either side. Their kiss broken, her eyes flew open.

He trapped her gaze in his. Slowly, deliberately, he withdrew from her, then, fluidly flexing his spine, he entered her.

Inexorably, inch by inch, he claimed her; heated and slick, her body welcomed him, stretching to take him in. He watched her eyes widen, the blue-grey transmuting to silver, then fracturing as he surged deeper. He sheathed himself in her softness, sinking into her to the hilt, nudging her womb. He came to rest embedded within her; she held him in a scorching silken vice.

Gazes locked, they both held still.

Honoria couldn't breathe, he filled her so completely; she could feel the steady beat of him at the base of her throat. Staring up at his face, she saw the hard planes shift, sharp-edged with reined passion. A conqueror looked down on her, green eyes dark, ringed with silver-the conqueror she'd given herself to. A sense of possession swamped her; her heart swelled, then soared.

He was waiting-for what? Some sign of surrender? On the thought, certainty bloomed within her; a glorious confidence filled her. She smiled-slowly, fully. Her hands had come to rest on his forearms; lifting them, she reached up and drew his face to hers. She heard him groan in the instant their lips met. He came down on his elbows, his hands flicking her hair aside, then framing her face.

He deepened their kiss and her senses went spinning; his body moved on her, within her, and pleasure bloomed.

Like waves piling on the shore, they surged together. Sensations swelled like the incoming tide, rolling ever higher. She caught the rhythm and matched him, letting her body welcome him, holding him tight for a heartbeat before reluctantly releasing him. Again and again they formed that intimate embrace; each time, each devastatingly thorough thrust pushed her higher, further, onward toward some beckoning shore she could only barely perceive. Her mind and senses merged, then soared, locked in dizzying flight. Heat and light spread through her, running down each vein, irradiating each nerve. Then heat changed to fire and light to incandescent glory.

Fed by their striving bodies, by each panting breath, by each soft moan, each guttural groan, the sunburst swelled, larger, brighter, more intense.

It exploded between them-Honoria lost herself in the primal energy, all fire and light and glorious, heart-stopping sensation. Blind, she couldn't see; deaf, she couldn't hear. All she could do was feel-feel him under her hands and know he was with her, feel the warmth that filled her and know she was his, feel the emotion that held them, forged strong in the sunburst's fire-and know nothing on earth could ever change it.

The sunburst died and they drifted back to earth, to the earthly pleasures of silk sheets and soft pillows, to sleepy murmurs and sated kisses, and the comfort of each other's arms.

Devil stirred as the last candle guttered. Even before he lifted his head, he'd assimilated the fact that there was a woman, sleeping the sleep of the sated, more or less beneath him. Before he levered his shoulders away from her and looked down, he'd recalled who that woman was.

The knowledge swelled the emotion that gripped him; his gaze roved her face, gently flushed, swollen lips slightly parted. Her bare breasts rose and fell; she was deeply asleep. Triumph roared through him; smug self-satisfaction swaggered in its wake. With a grin she would probably have taken exception to, had she been in any condition to see it, he lifted from her, careful not to wake her. He'd tried to withdraw from her earlier, before he'd succumbed, but she'd clung to him fiercely and muttered an injuction he'd had insufficient strength to disobey. Despite his weight, she'd wanted to prolong their intimacy, not an aim he could argue against with any conviction.

Their intimacy had been spectacular. Superb. Sufficiently remarkable to startle even him.

He settled on his stomach, feeling her soft weight against his side. The sensation had its inevitable effect; determinedly, he ignored it. He had time and more to explore the possibilities-the rest of his life, in fact. Anticipation had replaced frustration; from the first, he'd sensed in her an underlying awareness, a sensual propensity rare in women of her kind. Now he knew it was real, he would take care to nuture it; under his tutelage, it woul

d blossom. Then he would have time and more to reap the rewards of his control, his care, his expertise, to slake his senses in her, with her-to make her his slave.

Turning his head on the pillow, he studied her face. Lifting his hand, he brushed a stray lock from her cheek; she snuffled, then wriggled onto her side, snuggling against him, one hand searching, coming to rest on his back.

Devil stilled; the emotion that stirred within him was not one he recognized-it stole his breath and left him curiously weak. Oddly shaken. Frowning, he tried to bring it into focus, but by then it had subsided. Not left him, but sunk deep again, into the depths where such emotions dwelled.

Shaking off the sensation, he hesitated, then, very gently, slid one arm across Honoria's waist. She sighed in her sleep, and sank more heavily against him. Lips curving gently, Devil closed his eyes.

When next he awoke, he was alone in his bed. Blinking fully awake, he stared at the empty space beside him in abject disbelief. Then he closed his eyes, dropped his head back into the pillows, and groaned.

Damn the woman-didn't she know…? Obviously not-it was a point of wifely etiquette on which he'd have to educate her. She wasn't supposed to leave their bed until he did-by which time she wouldn't be able to. That was the way things were. Would be. From now on.

This morning, however, he'd have to go for a long ride.

Chapter 17

Success bred success. Late the next night, as he let himself into his hall, Devil reflected on that maxim. He'd successes on more than one front to celebrate; only one major item on his personal agenda remained unfulfilled-and he was making slow progress even there.