The Lover
He was still vibrating with powerful aftershocks when his arms tightened around her, drawing her down. She went willingly, burying her face in the wide protection of his shoulder, her naked breasts pillowed in the warm skin of his chest. She felt powerfully female, deliciously weak, even though her body was still feverish for his touch.
With a sigh, she nestled against his hard, muscled length, cherishing the closeness. She wanted to remain like this forever, treasured in his embrace. Perhaps she might have to, Sabrina thought with a faint wry smile. Certainly she could not return to the celebration like this. She would never be able to explain her dishabille.
“Forgive me, lass,” she heard Niall murmur huskily.
“Forgive you?”
She felt the warm pressure of his lips at her temple, his hand scraping the tangled veil of her hair to one side. “For my impatience. You did not reach your pleasure.”
“Oh, that. It doesn’t signify.” In truth, she didn’t mind. It was satisfying enough to have aroused her sensual, hedonistic husband to the point where he lost his much-vaunted control.
“Ah, that rankled. Signify, indeed. ’Twas inexcusably remiss of me.”
“No, truly…”
His hands on her bare shoulders, he lifted her up so he could meet her gaze. “Am I to understand you would not care if I left you unsatisfied?”
She hesitated to confess her need, the wild longing he had aroused so effortlessly in her. A flush suffused her cheeks as she remained silent.
“Are you still hot for me?”
She could answer that truthfully. “Yes…”
He smiled that celebrated smile, devastating and suggestive. “Never let it be said that I left a lass unfulfilled.”
Amazingly she felt his shaft start to fill and throb again within her. Giving her no time to protest, he drew her down till his mouth could reach her throbbing breasts. His lips closed over a nipple that was pebble-hard with desire, and instantly the flames in her body fanned to life.
He laved the sensitive swollen tip, pulling at her flesh, nipping softly. When he began to suck hard, Sabrina gasped at the exquisite sensation.
With a husky murmur of triumph, he rolled over her, pinning her beneath him. His hands caressed her hips, then slid under her buttocks to cup and squeeze and lift her tighter against him.
“Say you want me, sweeting.”
She shuddered with delight. “Yes…Niall…I want you.”
Pressing her honeyed thighs wide, he thrust deeper. Sabrina went rigid at the unbearable surge of pleasure, the overwhelming sense of being penetrated and filled. But it was his look that made her heart nearly stop beating. His jeweled eyes glimmering in the darkness held a tender sensuality that made her feel cherished, desired. She could almost believe it was love she saw there in his gaze…
Sheer madness, she reflected dazedly.
He drove deeper still and she gasped, arching her back at the almost unbearable fullness enveloping and possessing her. Yet Niall gave her no surcease. He made love to her with a slow, lingering power, assuaging and intensifying the terrible sweet ache within her at the same time.
He took her with long, deep, protracted strokes, driving himself unhurriedly, fully, into her, till her slender body twisted against him, writhing helplessly.
“Aye, sweet Sabrina,” he urged against her lips. “Be reckless for me…be wanton and hungry.”
She obeyed, having no choice. As the explosive delight built relentlessly, she said his name in a raw, ragged voice and caught at his shoulders, her nails digging into his sleek skin. When the first convulsive tremors began, he fitted his mouth over hers, deeply, muffling her cries of ecstasy. She clung to him, shaking as he plunged harder, faster…
Only when she lunged frantically against him, sobbing, did he relax the rigid control he had maintained over himself. His body contracted like a bow, raking her with violent possession, claiming…pitching them both into a wild, heated dimness before the firestorm finally peaked.
Niall sank upon her, grimacing at the tumultuous pleasure flowing through him. The satisfaction was shattering…again.
They lay in each other’s arms, exchanging heartbeats, sprawled in a tangle of hair, limbs, and pleasure. He could feel Sabrina’s body still trembling, feel his own trembling.
At the realization, Niall shut his eyes, shocked by the power of the relentless climax he’d just endured. He couldn’t remember when a woman’s touch had elicited such a wrenching response in him.
It should be impossible. He was the seducer. He was the sensualist. With all his vast expertise, he should be able to control his rampant desire with any wench, most definitely with a virginal, unschooled lass who made no claim to beauty or feminine art.
He shook his head, marveling at the incredible hunger his innocent bride had aroused in him. He had planned simply to make love to Sabrina, but his strategy had foundered somewhere between the first sweet kiss and the second. His only intent was making her sexually responsive, awakening all the exquisite, undiscovered passion in that lovely body, yet he had become lost in the explosive ecstasy himself…twice.