Because You Are Mine (Because You Are Mine #1)(77)

She gaped at his reflection in the mirror. It looked like he’d just undergone a strenuous workout. Every bulging muscle in his body was delineated and tense. Perspiration gleamed on his ridged abdomen and heaving rib cage. His powerful ass and thigh muscles were flexed tight as he held himself on the edge. He was awesome to behold in that moment—a sexual storm on the threshold of breaking. The part of his cock that wasn’t sunk into her ass looked intimidatingly huge. He throbbed in the narrow channel. She swore she could feel his pulse in the sensitive flesh. It stunned her, this feeling of their flesh being so close, so melded.

“Are you all right?” he asked tautly.

“Yes,” she said, realizing she meant it. The initial sharp pain had faded, leaving only a compelling, forbidden pressure. Her cheeks and lips were stained dark pink. Her clit sizzled.

“Good, because your ass is on fire,” he muttered at the same time he thrust and pulled her body closer. A ragged shout tore from his throat. He began to swing her back and forth on his thrusting cock. “Ah God, it’s good to be inside you raw.”

Francesca whimpered in awe at the new erotic sensation . . . at the vision of Ian losing himself in desire. There was no pain, but an intense, unbearably exciting pressure built in her. The nerves in her ass were so sensitive she could feel every nuance of his cock. Her thigh muscles squeezed tight, putting pressure on her clit. Orgasm loomed. She stared in openmouthed wonder at the mirror as his cock disappeared farther and farther into her body with each new thrust. Finally, his pelvis bumped against her ass cheeks.

He held her to him and growled gutturally. The moment was too full for her. Too incendiary. She began to shudder as orgasm slammed into her, the force of it all the more powerful because it had been held at abeyance for so long.

Distantly, she heard Ian’s harsh curse. He f*cked her as she came, serving her ass to his cock in a forceful, greedy possession, his hips thumping rapidly against her tingling, sore bottom as he maneuvered the swing—and her body—taking his pleasure to the fullest. It was too much, really. She couldn’t have taken the pressure for long. She was utterly at his mercy, her ass tightening around his driving cock as she climaxed thunderously.

He drove into her one last time, his groan striking her as helpless somehow, even though he was the master in this situation. He wrapped his forearm around her waist, pulling her to him in a desperate hold. She cried out brokenly when she felt his cock swell impossibly large. A roar erupted from his throat. He bent his head, grimacing, and pressed his mouth against her back. She bit her lip and clenched her eyes as she felt him explode deep inside her.

He groaned and thrust in and out of her shallowly as he continued to ejaculate, his breath falling hot and ragged against the skin of her back. Her eyes stung. Her tears weren’t from pain but from the powerful feeling burning in her chest.

Had she fallen in love with this man?

How else could she explain her total and absolute trust in him, her willingness to surrender completely to him?

What else could this euphoric feeling be as she watched him there in the mirror, abandoning himself completely to bliss? Either she was falling in love or she was going mad.

Either way, he’d been right before. She was completely at his mercy.

Part VII

Because I Need To

Chapter Thirteen

Ian unbound her, then gently helped her out of the harnesses, still raw from shattering climax and a brew of emotion he couldn’t quite identify. When her feet touched the floor, he immediately took her into his arms, wincing in pleasure at the sensation of her silky naked skin pressed against his.

He placed his hand on her jaw and tilted her face up to his. He kissed her deeply, wondering how he could feel so much driving, almost harsh, desire for her and this swelling tenderness all at once. Had he been too hard on her? She was so soft, so feminine, so exquisite, he thought dazedly as he caressed her firm, taut curves. He’d been gauging his reaction from hers. When she’d squeezed his cock rhythmically as she whimpered in orgasm minutes ago, he’d hardly thought of her as delicate.

She was a mystery to him—a compelling, tormenting, sweet one that he couldn’t resist.

He lifted his head a moment later and grabbed her hand. He shut the door behind them as they left the room, and then led her to the bathroom. Without speaking, he opened the glass door to the steam shower and twisted the handle. When the temperature was comfortable, he stepped aside and nodded for her to get in. He followed her, shutting the door behind them.

She seemed to have caught his subdued mood, because she said nothing as he meticulously washed her beautiful body in the minutes that followed. He felt her gaze on him, though, as his lathered hands whisked over satiny skin. Steam curled around his knuckles as he washed . . . worshipped. A small part of him still wanted to withdraw like he had in Paris, when he’d been so overwhelmed by her sweetness and generous response.

The experience tonight had choked his defenses, though, making it impossible for him to maintain his sanity and resist her.

He washed himself in a much more cursory, if thorough, fashion and shut off the water. After drying them both with a towel, he again took her hand and led her to his bed. He whipped back the duvet and turned to her, releasing the clip on her hair. The heavy weight of it fell, tumbling around her shoulders and back. His fingers immediately furrowed into the silky, unbound glory.

Her large dark eyes made something clench tight inside his gut.