Now You See Her Linda Howard(70)
She found herself on her feet, pulled there by a tension so acute it was almost painful. Nerves and need warred inside her. With just that blunt statement from him she was aroused, her body readying itself for him. Her breasts ached, and without looking down, she knew her nipples had hardened. Liquid heat, sweetly painful, pooled between her legs. She clenched her inner muscles against the pain and found she had only intensified the hurt.
She had accepted, and enjoyed, the force of her attraction to him. She loved those wildly frustrating kisses, the tempting touch of bare skin, the intoxicating blend of feeling on the edge of danger and at the same time utterly safe in his arms. As much as she wanted the completion of actually making love with him, she had also felt comforted by his restraint. Commitment wasn't easy for her, and what he wanted from her right now was the most basic commitment of all. What she had enjoyed so much in theory was a little scary in reality.
"I think I should go," she blurted, turning to do exactly that.
His hands closed around her waist, catching her before she could take a step. "I think you should stay."
He pulled her solidly against him, hips to hips, thighs to thighs, nestling the hard ridge of his erection against the softness of her belly. "Don't you want me?" he murmured, bending his head to nuzzle her temple, and lower to the sensitive hollow just below her ear.
Her breath caught. Want him? She wanted him more than she had ever wanted anything or anyone in her life. She was only beginning to realize just how much she did want him, and not only in a physical sense. That was the scariest part about this, acknowledging how emotionally important he was to her.
As a child she had loved her family and desperately needed for them to love her in return, but that love hadn't been forthcoming, and since then she hadn't allowed herself to be so vulnerable.
But it was too late for caution, she thought wildly. She already loved him. Her body was already melting against his, seeking the heady pleasure he had given her once before.
She couldn't give him the permission he had asked for, at least not in words. Panic and excitement mingled in a wild rush that closed her throat. So she slid her hands up his chest and locked them around his neck, going on tiptoe to cradle his erection at the junction of her thighs, and that was all the permission he needed.
His arms closed around her and his mouth covered hers, hard and voracious. His tongue moved deep into her mouth, taking her, shaking her with the sudden awareness that until now he had always held himself back. He wasn't holding anything back now. Sweeney had the sensation of being crushed and devoured, except he wasn't hurting her at all, the only pain she felt was the pain of emptiness.
He stripped her jacket down her arms and let it drop to the floor. He delved his hands under her shirt and closed them over her breasts, his palms hot and rough against her tightened nipples. Her whole body arched into his touch, and she heard herself making soft, panting sounds. Everything was spinning out of control, going too fast. "Richard," she gasped, a weak cry, or a plea, she never knew which.
He jerked her shirt off over her head, and the next second she was lying sprawled on her back on the oversized couch. Ten seconds later she was naked, her shoes and socks gone, her jeans and panties tugged down and off. His hands were on her thighs, pulling them open.
Dazedly she stared at him as he knelt between her legs, one knee on the couch and his other foot planted on the floor, tearing at the fastening of his pants. She felt as if her entire body was throbbing with anticipation, the blood running hot and thick through her veins, gathering in her loins. He leaned over her and she braced her hands on his chest, his heartbeat pounding under her right palm. Their eyes met, hers wide, his fiercely narrowed, and their gazes locked and held as he entered her, thrusting hard and deep.
The pain ambushed her. It was sharp and burning, just as if she were virgin again. She caught her breath on a cry, stiffening beneath him. He muttered an indistinct curse as he withdrew a little and more slowly worked himself back in to the hilt. The pain was only momentary, her body's reaction to the unaccustomed invasion; his second thrust wrung another cry from her, this time sharp with pleasure.
"God," he said, his voice stifled, his body held still and tight, as if one more thrust would shatter his control and he wouldn't stop until he climaxed.
Sweeney hooked her legs around his waist, tilting her pelvis up to take him deeper inside. Her breath came in short, choppy pants. He felt so thick and hard inside her she thought she couldn't bear it if he moved, and yet she thought she would explode if he didn't. She felt hot, glowing, the heat boiling through her veins. She tightened her inner muscles around him, trying to pull him deeper. His entire body flexed, and with a guttural sound he surged forward, plunging so deep she almost screamed; then he held himself motionless once more. She arched upward, her nails digging into his chest muscles.
"Damn you," she choked. "Do it!"
He caught her wrists in his hands and peeled them off his chest, slamming them down to the cushion and anchoring them over her head. He leaned over her, sweat gleaming on his face, and in the fierce dark depths of his eyes she saw his control shatter.
He took her then with powerful thrusts that made her entire body shudder under the impact. His grip on her hands arched her into him, lifted her for him. With each inward thrust the heat and tension inside her increased, her loins throbbing, her hips rocking back and forth and taking everything he had to give her. She climaxed hard and fast, sobbing and crying out, and without mercy he rode her through it, so that the tension began rebuilding as soon as the spasms ended. His big body stiffened over her, then he shuddered and bucked from the force of his own orgasm.