The Heiress Bride (Sherbrooke Brides 3)

Sinjun was looking at him when he kissed her. His eyes were closed and his thick black lashes were against his lean cheeks. He was utterly beautiful, and this was what she wanted, what she’d wanted since she’d decided to have him, but goodness, there was so much of him, surely too much of him, much too much, and it couldn’t be pleasant, not remotely pleasant. Ah, but his hand and his fingers, resting there, just lightly pressing against her, and it was such a private place, this part of her, yet it felt right for him to have this intimacy with her, perhaps. Perhaps not. This wasn’t unpleasant, certainly not, and perhaps he would content himself with this. She rather prayed that he would. Then he opened his eyes.

“Any closer and your eyes will cross,” Colin said, and laughed, a rather painful sound because he’d grown even harder than a stone in the past minute, nearly gone beyond anything he could remember except when he’d been a boy and so randy he’d been in constant need; and he wanted to come inside her this moment, this very instant, deep and deeper still, and . . .

“Please,” she said, and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Please teach me how to kiss, Colin. I do like kissing. I could kiss you forever.”

“There’s much more than kissing, but we’ll begin there and always come back to it. Just open your mouth to me and give me your tongue.”

She did, and when her tongue searched his out, she felt his fingers sliding down, rubbing lightly against her flesh, and she squirmed at the strange sensations it brought to her, so deep inside her, so very low, and she moaned into his mouth, startling both of them.

He lifted his hand and looked at her face at the same time. Her disappointment was clear for him to see. He smiled, albeit painfully. “You like that. Shall I continue?”

“Perhaps it would be all right.”

He laughed as he kissed her again, but her moan when he eased his finger inside her made him forget everything but the pounding need he felt, a need that was growing beyond him, beyond his control.

She was very small, this bride of his, and he knew he had to keep control of himself. He wanted to give her pleasure, but he doubted it would be possible this first time. Perhaps it was better just to get this first time over with, and quickly. She was easing around his finger, her warm flesh accommodating him now, and he moved deeper. Yes, she was softening for him and the moistness of her made him picture his sex deep inside her and he nearly went over the edge with lust.

He moaned and shuddered and moaned again, and Sinjun, momentarily loosening herself from the feelings he was building in her belly, snapped her eyes open. “Colin? What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”

“Yes, and it’s wonderful. Joan, I must come into you now. You’re eased for me, truly, but it will be tight. Trust me. I’ll go very slowly, but come into you I m

ust. This first time must be done or there couldn’t be a second time, which will be wonderful for you, you’ll see, just trust me.”

Every pleasant feeling evaporated in the flash of an instant. Sinjun stared at him, now between her legs, raising her knees, positioning her for himself. He was too big, far too big; it was unimaginable. “No,” she said, panicked now, as she pressed her fists against his hairy chest. “Please, Colin, I have changed my mind. I should like to wait, perhaps Christmas might be a nice—”

He came into her and she yelled, pressing her hips into the feather mattress, but he only grasped her hips in his hands and pushed deeper and deeper still. She tried to hold herself still, to keep her cries deep in her throat, but it was difficult. She closed her eyes against him and against the pain, but it became only more rending. Then she felt him stop inside her and he was breathing hard, his voice trembling when he said, “Your maidenhead, I’ve got to get through it. Don’t scream. Sweet Jesus, I’m sorry, sweetheart.” He pushed forward even before he stopped speaking, and she yelled, loud and hoarse, and he brought his hand down quickly over her mouth, muffling her cries, and he was touching her womb and she hated it, hated the pain and the rawness of it, the alien invasion of her body, but he wasn’t hurt, oh no, he was a wild man, driving into her then pulling out, again and again until suddenly he was rigid over her, his back arched, stiff as a board, and she opened her eyes and stared up at him to see that his eyes were closed, his head thrown back, his throat working against what seemed to her to be a raging cataclysm.

He moaned, then yelled, muted because of her brothers, she assumed, then he fell forward on her. She felt him then inside her, the wetness of him, his man’s seed, and she felt . . . she didn’t know what she felt. The pain he’d inflicted in her body, yes that, certainly, but more than the throbbing pain, the rawness. He’d lied, telling her to trust him, and like a twit she had, at least a little bit, until he’d forced himself into her.

She felt betrayed.

He was breathing hard, his face beside hers on the pillow. His body was heavy on hers. She felt the sheen of sweat on him and on her.

It was difficult for her to speak calmly, because she wanted to strike him and scream at him, but she managed it. “I didn’t like that, Colin. It was awful.”

His heart was drumming in his ears. He was breathing so hard he thought he would burst with it. He felt as if he’d been flattened, and every minute of his flattening had been wondrous, beyond anything he could have imagined . . . . And she didn’t like it? It was awful? No, it couldn’t be true. He shook his head. He must have misunderstood her.

He calmed his breathing. It took him a good deal of time. She remained quiet, not moving beneath him, and he imagined that he was heavy on her, but he didn’t move. He was still inside her, not so deep now, but the feel of her flesh made him shudder with pleasure and need. Finally he managed to raise himself on his elbows. He stared down at his wife.

Unconsciously, he pushed forward and high into her, breaching her deeply, and she winced, gritting her teeth. He stopped immediately.

“I’m sorry,” he said, but he wasn’t, not for what had happened, because he had enjoyed it more than he ever had in his life. “Your virginity, it’s past now, and there won’t be any more pain.”

Her calm was cracking. “You lied to me, Colin. You said it would work. You told me to trust you.”

“Naturally, I’m your husband. It did work, can’t you feel me? I’m supposed to be inside you. I’m supposed to spill my seed in your womb. It will be easier next time. Perhaps you will even enjoy it. You did somewhat this time, didn’t you?”

“I don’t remember.”

She didn’t damn remember? Ah, but he wanted her again. It surprised him and dismayed him. Surely he wasn’t a rutting savage to maul his innocent bride yet again. No, he wasn’t. He groaned, feeling her tight and hot around him. It was too much, it was more than a man with few wits left could handle. He stiffened above her and drove deep into her once more.

She yelled at the shock and pain of it. She hit him with her fists, shoving against him, trying to throw him off her, but it only sent him deeper and he just kept driving, feeling her flesh convulse around him, driving him and pushing him, and he couldn’t stop himself. He heard her cries but he didn’t slow, he couldn’t, and again he climaxed, raw groans ripping from his throat.

He was flat on top of her again, breathing hard, wondering what the devil had come over him.

“How many times will you do that?”

“I think I’ve stopped for a while. Joan, you’re not crying, are you? No, tell me you’re not crying. I’ll hold very still now, I promise.”