Raising her hips, she dragged the tip of him along her, up and down, until he trembled beneath her. And that was something. A very heady something, emboldening her further.
She poised him over her opening, played with him just a little bit, dipping and easing him inside her channel.
She trembled, too, her thighs quaking from holding herself above him and from the restraint it took to not sink down on him.
“Please,” he choked, begged.
He begged.
And that was the very last thing she could endure. It was like something out of a dream. Out of one of her fantasies. This beautiful man was begging for her when the only thing she wanted was him. Her core ached, clenching with fiery need. There was no sense waiting another moment.
Her hips moved, seeking, lowering herself down until she was completely and blissfully impaled, his member wedged fully, pulsing inside her.
A broken gasp wrenched from her lips. Their heavy breaths merged, mingling between them, warm and thick as vapor.
He was inside her.
Bigger. Harder than she had imagined, than she dreamed. It was done. She was a maid no more.
There was no regret. Only delight.
She moaned at the stinging pleasure. The burning stretch of her inner muscles felt good. Pleasure throbbed between her legs, any pain residual and fast fading away. Apparently her body had been waiting for this. For him.
His strong fingers grasped her hips, anchoring her above him as he surged all the way inside her, pushing impossibly deeper. She could not fathom how there was any more of him to take. But more of him there was . . . and take she would. She wanted all of him and not a fraction less.
Her trembling arms stretched between them, her palms braced upon his chest, holding her up. She wiggled over him and his cock pulsed inside her.
She brought her mouth down to his again, feverish and hungry. She kissed him, tongue warring, teeth nipping until the ache grew too intense between her legs and she tore away to pant heavy breaths as she began to move, working above him, rocking and sliding him in and out of her, the friction unbearably intense.
She whimpered, moaning in a way that was not even human to her ears. Widening her legs, she ground down on his cock, sinking lower, taking him in even deeper, nudging at some before-undiscovered area inside her.
An especially sensitive little spot. His cock brushed against it and she released a sharp cry at the sensation. Moisture rushed anew between her legs. She angled her hips so that he could hit the slippery little spot again. And again. And again.
Delighted, she continued to move, using his body for her pleasure. She worked over him, increasing her tempo as desperate, dark little sounds escaped her lips amid their wild and broken kisses.
She tangled her hand in the long strands of his hair, pulling roughly, excited at his grunts.
Moaning, he buried his head in the crook of her neck as she rode him, fast and savage, pumping her body over him with unchecked ferocity.
He choked on speech. “I—I’m . . .”
He shuddered under her, reaching his climax.
That didn’t stop her from claiming her own. She pounded harder over him as his cock vibrated inside her.
Tossing her head back, a scream poured from her as she shattered inside. Again.
Ripples of delight eddied through her. She trembled as she fell over his body, limp and completely spent.
She flexed her fingers against him, clinging to him as though he were a lifeline. Gradually, a realization came over her. She had thoroughly ravished him. And she had reveled in every wild moment of it.
“That was . . . brilliant,” she gasped, shoving the hair off her forehead to meet his dark gaze.
He stared at her with wide eyes full of wonder, blinking slowly as though returning to himself, too. “Indeed. That was . . .” His voice faded as though at a loss for words. He rubbed at the top of his head, sending the dark strands flying in every direction.
“Brilliant?” she supplied.
He gulped, the tendons at his throat working as he fought to swallow. “Yes,” he said in a thick voice as though that single word was difficult for him to manage. As though speech were a challenge for him.
She smiled in satisfaction and lowered her cheek to his chest, still enjoying the sensation of him inside her . . . and the fast thump of his heart against her ear.
She shifted slightly, and felt him twitch, pulse in her channel and, incredibly, grow hard again. Fresh sparks ignited along her nerves.
“Oh,” she rasped, rolling her hips, reveling in the fullness of him inside her. “Again,” she commanded in a throaty whisper.
“Woman,” he groaned, gripping her hips as she lifted up and slid down his cock. “You’re going to kill me.”
“But it will be a delightful way to perish.”
Chapter Five
Silas woke alone in a cold bed.
The fire had long since gone out, the wood in the hearth mere ash. The woman was also gone. Vanished.
Strangely, he did not know how long ago she had departed from his bed. He had fallen into a sound sleep after the third time they’d fucked and that was a rarity.
Not the fucking. Although three times was certainly a rarity. She had been insatiable and he had been more than willing. But a sound sleep was not commonplace for him.
He was especially sensitive to sounds and movements around him. How could he have not roused when she stirred and left his bed?
A few hours of sleep a night was all he could ever achieve. He would gladly sleep longer, but he was simply unable. Ever since he was a lad, when he had been too frightened to sleep. He might no longer be a frightened lad, but some habits could not be shaken.
Sleep left one vulnerable and vulnerability was not something he could tolerate in himself. His mother had been vulnerable and it had killed her, so he had purged himself of the condition lest it kill him, too.
Indeed, he was conditioned. Trained. He had thought himself constant. And yet he had broken habit last night and lowered his guard. He had fallen asleep. He had succumbed to the deepest of slumbers. He had slept in a bed with another person. He had deeply and peacefully slept alongside a stranger. He marveled at that.
What creature was she to have made him feel so totally at ease? He had not thought such a thing possible. He had not even longed for it. And yet it had happened.
He stretched an arm over the emptiness beside him, imagining he could still feel the imprint of her on the mattress. Whatever the case, she was real. She had been here.
And she was gone.
If not for her memory and the lingering whiff of oranges, it was almost as though she had never been here at all.
With a noisy yawn, he lifted himself up from the bed, striding naked across the chamber to the hearth. He added a few more logs and stirred the fire back to life. The faint purply-pink tinges of dawn pressed around the edges of the closed damask drapes. He shook his head. Remarkable. He really had slept the night away.
Too bad he knew nothing about her. Unfortunate. There would be no repeat encounters. No more nights together. No more occasions when she unreservedly and thoroughly ravished him.
Not unless she came to him again, but somehow he knew she would not. She was gone and she would not be coming back. Part of her wildness seemed to have stemmed from the awareness that this would be a onetime event. He would have to make do with the memory of it.
He moved to his wardrobe and dressed himself for the day, feeling particularly energized.