She tried to squeeze her legs, her eyes wet and beseeching. “Aris, please, you now, you…”
“Not yet. Now I need to feed. I’ve been starving for you, agape mou. Nineteen endless months. Let me have my fill.”
She nodded mutely, her color dangerous, and spread herself wide for him.
He slid her over the sheets’ smoothness and kneeled before her again, open and willing, overpowering him with her submission. Blood was a geyser in his head, his manhood. He gritted his teeth, brought her silky, shaking limbs over his shoulders, filling his aching hands with the firmness of her velvet buttocks.
He nudged her thighs with his face, latching wide-open lips on their flesh. “Watch me worship you, agape mou, take your pleasure watching me pleasure you, own your every secret.”
She squirmed, hiccuped then nodded, sat up on her elbows, spreading her core’s lips against his.
He grunted as lust jackknifed in his system. “Beauty like this should be outlawed.” Then he plunged in.
He captured her between sucking lips and massaging teeth, circling her knot, subduing her gently as she thrashed with each corkscrewing lick and insistent pull, bringing her to the edge, listening to the music of her explicit ecstasy. He felt her flood with it, hurtling toward completion. He placed a palm on her heart until he felt it start to miss beats. Then he blew on her quivering, engorged flesh, tongue-lashed her. She shredded her throat with ecstasy, unraveled her body in a chain reaction of convulsions. And looked him in the eye all through.
That was eroticism. That was intimacy and fulfillment.
Everything with her had been that.
Now he would take her, and union with her would reinvent those concepts. He hoped she was ready for him now.
He slid up her sweat-slick body, flattening her to the mattress, soaking up her drugged look, the slackness confessing the depth of her satiation.
He branded her lips, let her taste her pleasure on his, and her hips undulated her urgency against his bursting arousal, gave him what he’d wanted earlier. The hitching, broken-from-too-much-need sounds echoing in her depths.
It had been that way during those two days of magic that had resulted in the miracle of Alex. She’d been unable to get enough of him, as he hadn’t of her.
She tore at his shirt, at his pants, her voice dark and husky. “Give me…all of you.”
He felt his last tether of sanity snapping and he took her lips in rough, moist kisses, nothing left in him but the driving need to cede all to her, bury himself inside her.
He came over her, impacted her, felt her softness cushioning his hardness. She opened her legs, enveloped him in their embrace.
He obeyed her demand, brought his shaft to her entrance, slid partway into her nectar, stimulating her more, bathing himself, struggling not to ram inside her, to ride her with all his power.
She whimpered, arched to bring him closer, and he surrendered, flexed his hips, plunged into her heat.
He went blind with the blast of pleasure.
When his sight returned, he saw her arched off the bed, sensations slashing across her face, pain among the feverish ingredients. The velvet vise enveloping him, even now, was almost too tight. Their fit was still almost impossible, and the only one that would ever be right. Yet, he’d hurt her….
“Forgive me,” he panted. “I should have been more gentle.”
Her legs yanked him tighter against her, forcing him to stroke deeper into her body, tearing a hot sharp sound from her depths. “You promised you wouldn’t be.”
He stroked inside her, still hesitating when her face contorted with that maddening amalgam of ecstasy and agony.
“Sarantos, don’t you dare hold back on me now.”
It was that Sarantos. That lash of overpowering challenge.
He thrust inside her, hard, impaled her to her womb.
“Yes.” At her welcoming cry, he thrust harder, then harder. Her body quaked with the force of his plunges, her cries sharpened with each, incoherent, yet eloquent with her need for his ferociousness. She never took her gaze away from his, let him see every sensation ripping through her. She seemed to glow with her rising pleasure, every inch of her a work of divine art the master poets and artists of ancient Greece would have failed to depict.
Her fingers bunched in his hair, bringing his lips down to drown them both in the shoreless reaches of abandon, as he rode her to the rhythm of a sea that seemed to have caught their frenzy. With the roaring building of a wave, he withdrew from her clenching depths, only to ram all the way back inside her with its crash. And she shattered around him.
The feel and sight of her ecstasy made him surge to her womb, release his seed there, images of another miracle, a tiny replica of her this time, sending him almost berserk with its poignancy.
At the first splash of his essence against her intimate flesh, her convulsions intensified, tearing his orgasm from depths even she hadn’t plumbed before. He discovered new depths inside her, too, jetted his agonizing release in endless surges, filling her, his roars harmonizing with her stifled shrieks and with the rumbles of a suddenly tempestuous sea.
He felt her melt beneath him, jerking with the aftershocks jolting through them both. He throbbed inside her, hard and maddened for more. But he had to give her respite.
He twisted, brought her draping over him. She lay inert, humming a wonderful sound, a score of bliss. He thought she slept for minutes. He studied her nuances, counted her every calming breath, and knew he’d never known contentment till now.
He was almost sorry when she stirred. He could have watched her forever. Next second, his heart was hurtling with delight that she had. She wobbled up, sending the sensual feast of her hair brushing over his chest and his heartbeats scattering all over the cloth floor of the tent.
She gave him a smile that made him feel he could fly. And that was before she slid over him, dipped her head to his pulse and drew coherence from his body with soul-stealing suckles.
Then she tore his sanity away irrevocably when she whispered, “Do you know how it feels to have you inside me? I was empty without you. Never leave me empty again, my love.”
His own confession shook out of him. “Hunger for you consumed me, too. Take me inside you always, agape mou. Never let me go.”
“Yes…Aris, never again. Let me have you now.” He reared back to obey her. She stopped him. “I want all of you this time.”
He stared at her. But he thought he’d given her all of him.
She struggled up on her elbows, a goddess of sensual abandon and delirious nights, her smile a lethal mind-altering narcotic. “I want every inch of what’s mine. You are mine to do with as I please, too, aren’t you?”