Forged in Smoke (Red-Hot SEALs #3)(92)
Instead of joining her on the bed, he dropped to his knees and smoothed his palms up her legs, from ankle to calf to thigh. His hands were rough, slightly scratchy, leaving the oddest mixture of fire and chills in their wake. He pressed her thighs apart far enough to accommodate his body and leaned in, continuing his gentle assault at her belly, only this time with his mouth.
Boneless, splayed before him, she lost herself in the heated sensation of his mouth and the light scrape of his teeth as he explored her body. He feathered kisses up the old silvered scars on her chest, his mouth so gentle she could barely feel the feathery caress, and then slid over to take a tight nipple in his mouth. As his warm, wet mouth closed over her breast and suckled, she arched into him, her arms stealing around his ribs and up his bare back—savoring the hard, smooth flow of muscles beneath her palms. He felt so good pressed against her, strong and firm, completely male.
But she needed to know how he’d feel inside her.
She skimmed her hands back down his back and slid them beneath the waistband of his jeans and underwear to cup the firm muscles of his ass. The fact that he arched into her touch brought her a smile and the confidence to move her hands around to the front of his jeans for some deeper exploration.
He groaned into her breast and lifted his hips. Unbuttoning and then unzipping his jeans, she pushed them, along with his underwear, out of the way. His penis was thick and smooth, and it actually seemed to arch into her hand. With each long, slow stroke from the base of his penis to its bulbous head, he’d groan—a low animalistic sound. He was so caught up in her stroking, he abandoned her breasts and simply pressed his forehead against her chest, his hips rocking in concert with the stroke of her hand.
But soon the heavy globes at the base of his penis caught her attention and she moved her hand down to explore.
To her amusement, the simple act of cupping the warm, soft weights broke him. With an urgent grunt, he caught her legs, dragged them up and over his hips, and took hold of his penis, guiding it between her thighs.
He looked up as he pushed into her, his eyes so intensely blue they burned like the laser in her lab. “Jesus, you’re makin’ me lose my mind.”
She smiled at that, her chest melting. She couldn’t imagine a better compliment than that.
With a deep breath Faith closed her eyes, concentrating on the feel of him pushing inside her, the hot, heavy force of him . . . the almost painful friction of him stretching her . . . She shifted uncomfortably, trying to hang on to that earlier delicious tension. But the sting soon turned to burning pain.
He must have sensed something was wrong, because he stopped pushing and lifted his head.
“Easy, sweetheart,” he whispered in a thick voice. Pulling back, he pressed a kiss to her forehead. “How long has it been since—”
Oh God, he’d realized he was hurting her and was stopping. There was no doubt in her mind that once she got past the initial adjustment of his body merging with hers, the pain would ease. It had in the past. Best to do the merging fast, and get on with the adjusting. With that in mind, she clenched her legs around his hips and arched up, impaling herself on his penis.
Only it hurt much worse than she’d expected, or remembered.
“Easy, easy,” Rawls said in the grimmest voice she’d ever heard, but the kisses he brushed across her mouth and cheeks were soft and soothing. “I got you, sweetheart. Easy, babe.”
That’s when she realized the dampness flowing down her cheeks was tears.
“I’m okay.” The reassurance had a hint of sob to it, but then the entire length of him inside her burned like molten steel.
“Sure you are.” The grimness deepened his voice to a growl. Still, he brushed another kiss across her mouth. “That’s why you screamed.”
“I did?” She didn’t remember that.
“You did.” This time his kiss was less soothing and hungrier, but he broke it off and brushed another of those unbearably chaste ones across her forehead. “Hang in there. It’ll get better. Just don’t move.”
Not moving sounded like a great plan. She settled back, her rigid muscles relaxing. Good lord, she’d been as stiff as a board. Slowly the burning pain eased.
After a moment she sighed and smiled up at him. “You’re right. It doesn’t hurt nearly as much now.”
“Good.” He pulled back to study her face, and whatever he saw there must have reassured him, because he scowled. “You mind telling me why the f*ck you did that?”
Lord . . . she’d rarely heard him use the f-word before, at least not with her. That didn’t bode well for the coming explanation. She swallowed hard.
“You were stopping and—”
“I wasn’t stoppin’,” he interrupted, his voice a little less grim, but maybe . . . exasperated. “I was slowin’ it down. I was going back to the basics, makin’ sure you were ready for me, makin’ sure I didn’t hurt you.”
Her mouth fell open.
“Oh,” she managed in a small voice.
“Yeah, oh.” He sighed and kissed the tip of her nose. “So, are you ready to let me handle the penis work now?”
That made her laugh.
He caught the laugh with his mouth and then pulled back enough to whisper, “Don’t move. Let me do all the work.”
She wanted to snap a salute and ask if that was an order, but one of his hands had moved to her breast and was slowly pinching and rolling the nipple between his fingers. The friction wasn’t enough to hurt; instead it sent a landslide of tingles coursing through her body. His other hand slid between her legs and began caressing the soft sensitive flesh, restoking her earlier fire. Slowly, lazily, he stroked her nipple, rubbed her clit, and caressed the inside of her mouth with his tongue.