My breathing was ragged as I gripped the comforter, trembling beneath him. I felt the heat of his breath on the tender skin of my inner thighs. Shivering, I tried to scoot away, though I wanted it so badly. He held me down firmly. His hands pressed my legs wide. He lowered his head with agonizing slowness, making me hold my breath until I thought I might faint—
I felt the hot, wet stroke of his tongue against my slick core, and gave a muffled cry. He paused, then licked me again, this time lapping me with the full width of his tongue. As my hips twisted helplessly beneath him, he held me down, forcing me to accept the pleasure as I nearly writhed with agonized need.
“Please,” I whimpered, hardly knowing what I was saying. Barely realizing that I was speaking at all. “Please.”
He gave a low laugh.
Pushing me wider, he worked me with his tongue, lapping me with the full width one moment, then using the tip to swirl tighter, ever tighter, against the hard aching center.
He slowly pushed a fingertip inside me. Then two. As I held my breath with pleasure, he stretched me wide with his thick fingers, while licking and suckling me with his tongue.
My body was on fire, my back arching from the bed. I’d lost the ability to take a full breath. I twisted beneath him, no longer trying to get away, merely to end the sweet torment. I’d never imagined it could be like this—pleasure to the point of pain— Higher—tighter—
I heard a building scream from a voice I’d never heard before, a voice I would only later realize was mine. My eyelids half closed as I left the earth and exploded past the sun.
As I gasped for breath, Edward moved quickly, bracing himself with his hands on either side of my hips. Positioning himself between my legs, he thrust himself inside me. His full length. All at once, thick and hard, ripping through me with jarring pain.
With a choked gasp, I pushed on his hips, wanting the pain to stop. He held still inside me. Then, as my grip on his hips loosened, he slowly began to move again. He pulled back, then slowly filled me again, giving me time to grow accustomed to the size of him. He filled me, stretching me inch by inch, slowly, sensuously; and the red haze of pain turned orange, then pink, then began to bubble and fizz like champagne. My body, which had been briefly limp on the bed, began to quicken again, to grow taut and tense with new desire.
Gripping my hips with his large hands tight enough to bruise, he thrust harder, until he was riding me rough and fast. My back again began to arch off the bed as he filled me deep and hard, stretching me to my limit, and beyond....
With a curse, he abruptly pulled out. I opened my eyes, nearly hyperventilating with need.
Looking at him in the slanted moonlight on his enormous bed, I saw he’d opened a condom and was peeling it over his huge length.
“I forgot,” he said grimly. “I never forget.”
My mouth suddenly went dry. “Then is it possible—”
“It’s fine,” he growled. Leaning forward, he kissed me passionately, until I forgot to worry about anything, until I forgot my own name. “Look at me.”
I did. Our eyes met as he pushed back inside me, inch by throbbing inch. I gasped. As the pleasure built, I started to close my eyes, to turn away.
“Look at me,” he repeated harshly.
Against my will, I obeyed. Our eyes locked as he thrust inside me. I felt every inch of him as he filled me, then increased the rhythm, shoving harder and faster as he gripped my hips. Tension coiled low and deep inside me, building tighter and tighter.
It was shockingly intimate to watch his face. Almost more intimate, even, than having him inside me. I felt the muscles of his backside grow tense beneath my hands, tense with the strain of holding himself back so tightly. Why did he hold back? Why?
Then I knew.
For me.
He thrust roughly into me, swaying my breasts as our sweaty naked bodies slid and clung together. He thrust again, so deep he impaled me. And something inside me suddenly spiraled out of control, rising from ash like a burst of fire. I was consumed by it, then exploded like a phoenix. I screamed, and heard his answering growl, as he clutched my hips tight enough to bruise. With a hoarse cry, he filled me with one last brutal, savage thrust, then collapsed over me with a groan.
I held him in the moonlight on the bed, this powerful giant of a man who’d overwhelmed me with the sweet torment of pleasure, now weak as a kitten. Closing my eyes, I cuddled him to my body, my heart in my throat.
I’d never imagined sex was like this, never.
“See?” Still panting, Edward nuzzled my neck. His voice was filled with masculine self-satisfaction as he traced his fingertips down my cheek. “I told you.”
“What?” I choked out, holding him closer, never wanting to let him go.
His dark blue eyes smiled sleepily into mine. “That I would make you weep.”
Astonished, I touched my face and found he was right. He’d made me weep. It was the first time.
It wouldn’t be the last.
* * *
Sunlight poured golden through the windows as Edward woke me with a kiss. “Good morning.”
“Good morning,” I said a little shyly, yawning. Our bodies were still naked, our limbs intertwined. I felt amazingly, blissfully sore in all the right places.
We’d made love three times last night. After the explosive first time, we’d slept in each other’s arms until at midnight we’d decided we were hungry. Putting on robes, we’d gone down to the dark, empty kitchen to hunt for a snack, giggling like naughty teenagers.
Naughty indeed. One minute Edward’s hand was reaching for the bread box, the next it was beneath my silk robe, and the minute after that he pushed me against the kitchen wall. The fact that we could have been discovered at any moment by Mrs. MacWhirter or the other servants just made it more dangerous. Ripping my belt loose, he’d taken me against the wall, wrapping my legs around his hips as he thrust hard and deep, until I gripped his shoulders in a silent cry. It was fast. It was rough.
It was delicious.
After a quick meal of sandwiches and cake in the dark kitchen, giggling and whispering, we’d gone back upstairs. We were both so sweaty, we decided to take a shower. I don’t know how this happened, either. One minute he was shampooing my hair, and I was standing on my tiptoes, reaching up to shampoo his. He playfully flicked some lather on my nose, and in retaliation, I smacked his butt really hard. He grabbed me, and two seconds later, he was shoving me against the shower’s steamy glass, murmuring words of desire against my hot, rosy skin as he made love to me beneath the scorching stream of shooting water.
I shivered, remembering. Even now, as he held me in the morning light, Edward was looking at me hungrily, and I felt my body respond.
Had he been watching me sleep, waiting for me to wake? I hoped not. I’d been dreaming about him. We’d been having a summer picnic in the garden. The sky was blue, the sun warm, and flowers were in bloom around us. He’d held me close on the blanket, and when I whispered that I loved him, his dark blue eyes had lit up. I love you, Diana, he’d said.
What if I’d been talking in my sleep? He would freak out if he knew. “I hope I didn’t wake you up by snoring or, er...” I blushed. “...talking in my sleep.”
“No,” Edward growled, rolling me beneath him. It seemed he hadn’t woken me to talk. “You slept like the dead. Another two seconds and you would have woken up with me inside you.”
“It doesn’t sound like the worst way to—” He covered my mouth with his own, thrusting smoothly inside me. He was as hard as if we hadn’t made love three times already; I