Dancing on the Wind by Mary Jo Putney

Author:Mary Jo Putney
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: ePublishing Works!
Published: 2013-11-25T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 23

Shaking, Kit closed her eyes. Perhaps this was another nightmare and soon she would wake. But the masculine weight and texture of the body pinning her to the bed, the sharp, intimate discomfort, were inescapably real.

She opened her eyes. Taut and dangerous, Lucien loomed over her, the powerful breadth of his shoulders limned by candlelight. "I... I didn't think you would have to know," she whispered. "I didn't realize how much it would hurt."

He dropped his head forward and rested his brow on her collarbone as a shudder went through him. After a long moment, he sighed and raised his head again. "It would have hurt a great deal less if I had known in advance. Even the most skilled of actresses can't fake everything, kitten." His angry shock had passed, leaving rueful tenderness in its wake. He bent forward and touched his lips to hers in a feather-light kiss. "I'm sorry. I should have known that nothing would be simple where you are concerned. Try to relax now. The worst is over."

He was right. The tearing pain had lasted only an instant, and the uncomfortable sense of being overstretched was also ebbing. He didn't move, simply continued to soothe her with delicate nibbling kisses on her face and throat. His urgency had been transformed into patience, though the perspiration that sheened his torso testified that his restraint did not come easily.

Her body began to accept his alien presence as natural. As it did, the sensual craving that had vanished when they first joined started to build again. Very carefully she curled her hips upward. There was no pain, merely a new kind of compression that was... intriguing.

She moved again with more force. He gasped, and she felt the silky-steel length of him throbbing inside her. "You'd best be careful," he panted, "because I am very close to the breaking point."

"Break away, Lucien," she said huskily. "But you'll have to tell me what to do."

"Just... just move against me rhythmically."

He pressed deeper into her. She matched the movement, feeling the flex where they were joined. Sharp pleasure tingled through her in newly discovered places. "Like this?" she asked breathlessly.

"God, yes," he groaned. "Exactly like that."

He thrust forward again, and this time her body responded instinctively, already understanding what her mind had not yet mastered. The rhythms were as integral as her marrow. A queer aching. Slick friction and liquid heat. Wanting. Needing.

He made a suffocated sound and began driving into her, his muscular frame and implacable strength imprisoning her with a finality that was also liberation. This was not the considerate lover of the Clarendon, slowly bringing her to fulfillment, but a man demanding what was his right. He filled her arms and her senses, taste and touch and heat. She was no longer alone...

With sudden panic, she realized that he was penetrating her spirit as deeply as her body, stripping away her painfully constructed defenses. She tried to withdraw to the safety of being an observer, but it was impossible.

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