Because You Are Mine (Because You Are Mine #1)(40)
She reclined on his spread jacket, her legs and belly looking pale in the moonlight and contrasting with the black lining of his jacket. The chaise was armless, long, and wide, with a curved backrest. She lay so that her body was on the flat portion, the top of her head against the back, her calves resting at the end of the piece of furniture. Her loveliness bit at him, making him grind his teeth.
He began to unfasten his pants hastily. He shoved his trousers down his thighs and peeled his boxer briefs down over his erection. He paused while rolling on the condom a moment later when he noticed her huge eyes fixed on his cock.
She was afraid of him.
“It’ll be all right. I’ll go slow,” he assured, whisking the tight rubber down farther over the shaft.
“Let me touch you,” she whispered.
He froze, fisting the base of his cock. It throbbed and twitched in his hand at the unexpected sweetness of her request. He graphically pictured her doing what she requested, the agony of feeling her fingers on him, her lips, her tongue—
“No,” he said more harshly than he intended. Regret lanced through him when he saw her startled expression. “I have to be in you now,” he said more quietly. “I must. I’ve waited so long. Too long.”
She just nodded her head, her large, dark eyes glued to his face. He kicked off his shoes, removed his socks, and stepped out of his pants. His shirt was a burden. He unbuttoned it, but he couldn’t keep his gaze off her spread thighs and glistening *. He was too crazed to remove the garment all the way. He came down over her, his knees near the bottom corners of the wide chaise, his hands just above her shoulders. He knew he should put his knees between her open thighs, but something made him spread around her, planting his legs outside of hers, completely encompassing her.
So beautiful . . . and his for the taking.
“Reach for the back of the chaise,” he directed.
She looked confused by his request but followed his direction nonetheless, her acquiescence making his cock throb where it hung between his thighs, heavy . . . burning. When her arms were above her head, gripping the roll of the back of the lounge, he gave a small grunt of satisfaction.
“I would like to restrain you, but since I can’t here, you must keep your arms behind you, do you understand?” he asked tensely.
“I would rather touch you,” she said, the movement of her dark pink lips enthralling him.
“I would much rather you did as well,” he assured grimly, taking his cock into his hand. “And that is why you will keep them above your head at all costs.”
* * *
She was finding it difficult to take a full breath, lying there, gripping desperately onto the wood rim of the chaise, staring up at the very image of primal male beauty. She wanted to touch Ian so much, but instead stared in rapt fascination as he touched himself. He slid his palm along the thick shaft in preparation to enter her. Her vaginal muscles clenched tight in arousal and anxiety. He looked so large, so heavy, so ripe with his desire.
At the last second, he seemed to reconsider and released his cock. It hung heavily between their bodies. He reached for the silk bra and opened the front clasp. Fresh liquid heat surged at her sex when he peeled the cups back, baring her breasts. She saw his cock twitch in the air.
“Venus,” he said roughly, a small smile quirking his mouth. She waited, her breath held in her lungs, hoping he’d touch the exposed, tingling skin of her breasts and the prickling nipples, but he didn’t. Instead, he grasped his penis again. Pushing one of her knees back to open her farther for him, he pressed the head of his penis against her slit. She bit her lip to stifle a cry. He grunted—whether in arousal or dissatisfaction she couldn’t say—when he flexed his hips and the tip of him slid inside her.
“Ah, Jesus, you’re going to try me,” he muttered.
She saw how rigid his shadowed features were, the flash of his white teeth as he grimaced. Wanting to give him relief more than anything at that moment—wild to give him pleasure—she thrust up with her hips. She yelped at the sudden stab of pain, barely noticing when Ian gave an intimidating growl and slapped the side of her hip in warning.
“Stay still, Francesca. What are you trying to do, kill us both?”
“No, I just . . .”
“Never mind,” he said, and she realized his breath was coming in erratic puffs. “Is it better now?” he asked between pants after a moment.
She realized he was referring to the pain she’d experienced. How had he known it’d been so sharp? It suddenly hit her that his penis was halfway inside her body. Her muscles stretched and thrummed around the throbbing flesh. It felt a little uncomfortable, but the sharp pain had passed.
Ian inside her. Fused to her.
“It doesn’t hurt,” she whispered, awe tingeing her tone.
She saw his throat convulse as he swallowed. He removed his hand from her knee and reached between her thighs.
“Oh,” she moaned when he began to press and rub against her clit with his thumb. He seemed to know the precise amount of friction to make her squirm in pleasure. The fullness of his embedded cock providing an upward pressure on her clitoris added another dimension of excitement.
“Stop squirming,” he grated out, his tone a mixture of exasperation, fondness, and arousal near the breaking point. His manipulations were making her burn unbearably. He pressed with his hips. His groan seemed to rip at his throat as his cock drove almost completely into her. Only enough room for his hand between her thighs remained. Pain splintered through a thick, dense sensation of pressure and pleasure as he continued to stroke her.