Starlight & Promises (29 page)

C
hristian began with kisses, deep, hot, slow kisses that flowed through Samantha like liquid sunshine, his mouth sweeping over her skin. Tonguing her breasts and nipples and grazing them lightly with his teeth, he suckled rhythmically. The tugging produced that familiar pulling sensation, and moisture dampened her inner thighs.

He bent her legs at the knees, braced her feet on the bed, and spread her legs. Kneeling between them, he caressed the petals of her sex, dipped a finger inside her while his thumb strummed her spot of exquisite pleasure. Adding another finger, he stretched her, and she grunted. The fit was so tight, her passage so small, his fingers so large. Perhaps Christian was mistaken. He might
not
fit! A fishhook of tension pulled at her abdomen, and her thighs trembled, her nether mouth squeezing his fingers.

“Relax, Sam,” he said. “Breathe deeply and loosen your muscles. We’re doing little more than we did before. Trust me, and you’ll make this easier.”

She admonished her body to relax, because she did trust Christian, despite his blustering nature. Her scolding came to naught, and her muscles stiffened even more. She anticipated what would come next, and her belly quivered with strain.

He parted her folds and slipped the head of his penis inside her. She grew more rigid. Her body clenched, trying to expel his shaft. He grunted and set his jaw, positioned his fingers over her woman’s center, and stroked. Gradually her muscles softened, and he eased farther inside.

“So hot,” he murmured. “Like a silken oven. So hot and wet and tight.” He inched inside her clinging passage, and the tendons on his neck stood out. Her delicate folds gave way, shifting to conform to his size and shape.

Stopping abruptly, he drew back. His fingers on her mound drove her higher and higher, made her hotter and hotter. The stretching fullness of his penis now added to her pleasure, and she spiraled upward. Her orgasm burst in an explosion of stars behind her eyelids. Her hips bucked, her channel gripping his shaft in convulsive waves. At the peak, she cried out his name.

With her release distracting her, Christian slipped his hands beneath her buttocks and lifted her, driving forward and breaking through her maidenhead, immersing the length of his phallus in her to the hilt.

“Ow!” she blurted, the sharpness of the sudden pain interrupting her pleasure. Needles of burning spread out through her arms and legs. She struggled to squirm out from under him. He pressed on her shoulders and held her still.

“Don’t move, Sam.” A strained laugh escaped him. “I beg you. Don’t move. Try to remain very still. The pain will pass momentarily. I promise.” He kissed her ears and eyelids and licked the tears from her cheeks. “Forgive me for hurting you. But it’s the only way. I’ll never have to hurt you again. Lie still and tell me when you no longer feel pain.”

While he placed soft kisses across her face and breasts, tears leaked from the corners of her eyes. Their joining fell far short of the ecstasy she had dreamt about. ‘Twas an invasion. Smarting pain had eclipsed the glorious delight of her climax, taking away her memory of it. Could she truly tolerate this agony time after time? Then, as he promised, the sharpness of the pain faded, leaving her with only a lingering burning and the sensation of being stretched and filled with his hardness.

She wriggled about a bit, testing the feeling. Though not unduly distressing, neither was it enjoyable. When Christian grunted, she peered up at him. His jaw clenched so tightly she feared he would break it. Veins and muscles stood out alarmingly in his face and neck. Though a smug smile threatened, she suppressed it. The poor man seemed to be in greater pain than she, but she realized the wisdom of refraining from pointing out the inaccuracy of his earlier statement.

“Sam,” he said in a strangled voice when she wiggled once more, “are you still hurting?”

“Only some burning and fullness.” She sent him a look of concern. “Has your pain passed?”

He seemed to choke on a laugh. “No, it hasn’t. I’m going to move now. I fear I’ll give you little pleasure this time. I’ve waited too long to be inside you and will be unable to hold back. I’ll try not to hurt you again.”

Her mouth drew into a frown. “Should you feel certain you are well enough to continue.”

He grimaced and drew back slowly. “If I don’t, I’m liable to expire.” He flexed his hips and drove forward. She lay still and silent beneath him. After two more rapid thrusts, he released his semen in convulsive shudders. His hot seed gushed into her and bathed her abused tissue. With a guttural groan, he collapsed. Sweat covered him. His penis, still inside her, twitched with small aftershocks.

She had felt only mild agreeable friction when he moved, but it ended too soon to arouse her to passion after the hurt inflicted on her poor flesh. She felt cheated of something wonderful. Her only consolation was that he appeared to have recovered from his discomfort and derived no more pleasure from the act than she.

As wrung out as Monday morning laundry, Christian shifted his weight to his elbows, looked down at her, and lifted his brows.

Samantha’s eyes seethed with rebellion. “I had no liking for it, and from what I could determine, neither did you. Must we do it again? I would wish to spare you any more pain.”

Christian laughed, shifted onto his back beside her, and rested his hand on her damp nether curls. “You’re not much of a salve to this old man’s ego, my love, though I appreciate your concern for me.” He turned back to her, leaned up on an elbow, and toyed with her hair spread out on the pillow. “Naught is ever easy with you, Sam,” he said in a more serious tone, “and predictably, your maidenhead was as sturdy and as hard to breach as Hadrian’s Wall. I’m well aware you didn’t care for it. Women rarely feel pleasure the first time. I promise you, it will become better, much better, for us both. Before you know it, you’ll be pleading with me to make love to you.”

“If I were you, I would not place a wager on that occurring,” she said with a frown.

He grinned. “Nonetheless, in answer to your question, yes, we must do it again and again and again. I don’t know if I’ll ever have my fill of you.”

She stiffened and tried to roll away. He stretched out an arm, drew her close, and held her fast to his side, sprinkling kisses on her eyelids and the tip of her nose. “We have no need to do it now. You’re sore and require time to recover.” He covered her lips in a soul-searing kiss. “Now you’ll soak in a tub,” he said when he raised his head, “and we shall see if we can work some of that soreness out of you.”

“A hot bath?” she asked with such delight it brought laughter to his lips again.

Samantha lounged in the copper tub in bubbles up to her shoulders. Fragrant steam caressed her, and the soreness between her legs ebbed. She closed her eyes with a sigh and rested her head against the rolled edge of the tub.

All these mysterious inner workings of her body, this biology of which she had so little knowledge. It seemed that biology consisted of more than snakes, turtles, and lizards.

Why did no one explain before now what happened between men and women? When she had a daughter, she would know what to expect long before she experienced it. As usual, Christian was right; knowledge vanquished fear.

Movement drew her gaze to the far side of the room where Christian, still breathtakingly nude, lolled in a chair. His need, judging by his penis, had arisen again. Heat surged into her face, and her stomach tightened. She licked her lips. His gaze caressed her from beneath half-closed lids. The blaze in their depths threatened to boil her bathwater.

“So soon?” she asked.

A crooked smile tugged at his mouth. “I’ve been ready since the moment I left you.”

She ducked farther under the bubbles.

He chuckled and left the chair, his bare feet whispering on the floorboards. Picking up the soap and washcloth, he knelt behind the tub. “Move forward,” he said. “I’ll wash your back.” The cloth painted circles across her skin. He rinsed her, then stood, lifting her by the waist to her feet and onto the hearth rug.

While water ran in silky rivulets down her body, he stripped the coverlet off the bed and laid it before the fire. He came down on his knees in front of her, held her still, and licked the water from her skin. She closed her eyes and eased back her head at the exquisite caress. “I much prefer this to what you did before,” she murmured.

“Lie down,” he said softly, pointing to the pallet. “On your stomach.”

Once he straddled her hips and poured lotion into his hands, his fingers traveled over every inch of her skin in a gentle, soothing seduction.

“It smells heavenly,” she said, her voice heavy with languor. “What is it?”

“Garrett’s wedding present.”

His magical fingers continued, and he slid backward, kneading her buttocks. She sighed, her knotted muscles unraveling into ropes of warm taffy.

“Part your legs,” he said.

When she complied, he moved between her legs, massaged the lotion deep into her thigh and calf muscles, bent each leg at the knee, one by one, and rubbed her feet. Her nerves shimmered. She felt as if she might sink straight through the floor. When he rolled her onto her back and concentrated on her upper chest and breasts, her nipples grew stiff and distended. A shiver danced across her skin.

“I feel like a bag of bones,” she said, sighing.

Christian smiled and reached for another bottle. He sat back on his heels and stroked the ointment into the folds of her womanhood. “This is different, Sam. It’s made from aloe.”

When his fingers stroked her and worked their way inside, she sucked in a deep breath. His touch and the soothing balm produced heat and slippery moisture. Before she could protest, he placed his mouth where his fingers had been. Flushing caused the tips of her ears to burn. She knew she would die from embarrassment, though rapture ran a close second. His tongue stroked her slickness, flickering over the pearl of flesh and delving inside her furrow. She tangled her fingers in his hair. Heat pulsed through her body, a searing volcanic heat. She arched her hips toward him, clutching his hair tighter, and strained to catch her breath.

His mouth left her, and he shifted forward. When his shaft glided into her with little effort, she twitched a bit, but then an incredible fullness stretched her, and she melted around his length. He pulled out slowly, paused, and slid the tip of his cock, glistening with her juices, over her pleasure bud and drove back inside, filling her completely. When he did it again, she rose up to meet his downward thrust, her hips soon catching the rhythm.

“Still sore?” he asked while pulling ever so slowly to the edge.

Unable to wrap her mouth around the words, she shook her head, dug her fingers into his shoulders, and pulled him back into her cleft. She dissolved, the gliding on her flesh growing maddening, the pause before his thrust torturous. Tension coiled in her legs and belly, and she rose higher and higher on a wave of euphoria. He resisted her efforts at controlling the pace, continuing to pull out slowly, stroke the exquisite flesh of her sex, and drive back in hard. Farther and farther. She wanted him deep inside her, stretching her, touching her, and she whimpered when he slipped out.

When her limbs shook and her head thrashed from side to side, he gripped her left knee and bent the leg against her chest. Shifting again, he plunged with directed thrusts. The friction assaulted her swollen bud. The change in position initiated strong waves that undulated down her passage, clasping and unclasping his thickness, and he filled her each time to unimaginable depths.

He drove even faster. The spasms grew stronger. Her body tightened, sparks moving outward through her blood, spreading like wildfire. A burst of intense release seized her muscles. She pressed her hips against him, taking him as deeply as she could. Receding into darkness, she was barely aware when Christian reached his own orgasm, releasing an explosive breath with the strength of it and flooding her with his searing essence. His cry came as though from a distance, or was it her own?