Surrender of a Siren (The Wanton Dairymaid Trilogy #2)(71)

But she needed him now, and he needed her now, and now wasn’t a minute or even a second later. Now was now. Gray brushed her hand away, positioned himself at her hot, wet entrance, and thrust. She cried out, digging her fingers into his arms so hard he nearly cried out, too.

Oh, God. She was so tight. Too tight. Fresh tears streamed down her cheeks even as she tried to look brave. And Gray finally understood that elusive, un-nameable sweetness that always lingered about her, beneath the powder and rose water.

It was innocence.

His little siren was a virgin.

“Why—” His breath hitched in his chest as he struggled for control. “Oh, sweet, you should have told me the truth.”

“I’m telling you now.” She swallowed hard, sliding one hand up to cradle his face. “Only you, Gray. Now and always. Only you.”

“But what about—”

She silenced him with a finger to his lips, then trailed the touch slowly down his chin, down the center of his chest. “There’s never been anyone else. Only you.”

Gray shook his head, uncertain what to believe. Her words were some sort of miracle, and so were her thighs cradling his hips, and her hair fanned out like a shining halo around her head. A fierce, primal joy flooded his chest, to know that she was his, and his alone.

His to possess; his to pleasure.

He shifted his weight on his hands, and as he did, he sank another inch into her. They both winced.

His to hurt.

“Sweetheart, I can’t bear to hurt you.”

“It’s all right,” she said through quivering lips. “Honestly, it feels better already.”

He knew she was lying. He rocked his hips backward with every intention of withdrawing, but she hooked her legs over his.

“No,” she gasped, her body tightening around his in every way imaginable. “You can’t leave me. You promised.”

He groaned as the exquisite friction pulled him back in. Gritting his teeth to restrain himself, he sank into her slowly. Her eyes grew wide, but she gave him a brave nod of encouragement.

“Yes,” she breathed as he finally buried himself to the hilt and they were completely, perfectly joined. The feel of her surrounding him, holding him—it was like nothing he’d ever dreamed. He squeezed his eyes shut and rocked again slowly. Back and forth, he gently pistoned his hips, grinding against her. Until she said it again, this time releasing the word in an erotic sigh. “Oh, yes.”

It took every ounce of willpower Gray possessed not to lose control that instant and simply drive into her again and again. But she’d trusted him to make love to her, not rut with her. She’d trusted him to be her only one. Now and always. So he kept up the slow, steady rocking of his hips. Feeling her body caress his with each small, measured thrust.

She shut her eyes, and her head rolled back against the pillow. “Oh, Gray,” she moaned, arching into his subtle thrusts now with tiny tilts of her hips. He bent to suckle her breast again, licking the soft peak through the rough, wet fabric.

She clutched his shoulders. He froze, panting above her. His hands fisted in the bed linens as he grappled for control.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“I’m all right.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” she said, a teasing note in her voice. She caressed his shoulders. Her fingers trailed down his chest, and she pressed her thumbs against his ni**les.

Gray let out a hoarse groan. “I can’t …” His voice trailed off as she craned her neck and kissed his chest. The sweep of her tongue against his neck pushed his restraint to its limit. “Sweet, stop. I want to make this good for you.”

“It is good.” Her teeth grazed his collarbone. “You are good for me.” Her head fell back against the pillow, and she met his eyes. “There’s no pain anymore.”

This time, he believed her. He had to believe her, because his control was in shreds, and nothing but faith remained.

He drove into her now, thrust after blissful, unrestrained thrust. And when she cried out and clung to his neck, he knew it was with pleasure, not pain. Her core convulsed around him, pulling him toward release in waves of raw, mindless need. Then she cupped his face in her hands and blessed him with a single, sweet kiss.

And in the end, it was that kiss that proved his undoing. With a hoarse cry against her lips, he shuddered and collapsed, pumping his release into her. The last tremors of pleasure were still rippling through him, and already he wanted her again. Again, now, always, only.

He settled the length of his body over hers, guarding her between his arms. His rough, gasping breath precluded speech, but they needed no words. There were no words for the transcendent, floating happiness suffusing his limbs and filling his heart. Only kisses. Kiss after deep, heartfelt, unhurried kiss.

It was some time before Gray’s awareness shifted from the wondrous taste of her soft, generous mouth to the strange, angular object pressing into his belly.

He propped himself up on one elbow and slid a hand up her hip, past the glorious Tropic where they remained joined even now, up over her belly to the notch between her ribs. His hand closed around a small, cloth-covered bundle strapped to her torso with bands of cloth. He frowned, feeling the solid object with his fingers, trying to learn its shape. Money, he realized. It had to be money. He spanned his fingers over it, testing its size. Bloody hell. It was a great deal of money.