Home > Dream Man(52)

Dream Man(52)
Author: Linda Howard

She stiffened in his arms, her thighs locking together again in an effort to control his invading hand. It was useless, because there was nothing she could do to stop the slow probe of his finger inside her. Shock made her dizzy. Oh, God.

She wasn’t dry, but she was far from being ready for penetration. The friction made his finger seem as big as a penis. She struggled briefly to contain the chaos of her rioting nerve endings, then collapsed against his chest in surrender.

“There, that’s good,” he crooned, and pushed another finger into her. Her hips arched, then subsided. She felt stretched, invaded, her body no longer under her control. Some dormant, primal instinct was stirring into life. Her inner muscles contracted gently in adjustment, and Dane’s entire body shivered.

His voice was hoarse. “This is the most that I’m going to do to you, at least right now. You can relax because it’s already happened. Am I hurting you?”

Yes. No. She hadn’t realized it could feel like this. She was a little delirious with shock and pleasure, and shook her head, her hair cascading over his chest. She was stunned that her body was capable of such intense sensation.

“Then close your eyes, honey. Close your eyes and feel. Don’t think, just feel.”

Helplessly, she did. With her eyes shut, her concentration centered on her body and what was happening to it. Color swirled behind her eyelids. Heat surged through her, followed rapidly by a chill that wasn’t really a chill, but rather a ripple of almost painful delight. Her skin felt too tight, too sensitive. Her nipples puckered and hardened, standing firmly upright.

His fingers reached deep inside her, rasping her delicate inner tissues. Helplessly she arched her hips again, taking his touch deeper within. Her thighs fell open, giving him easier access. Her heart was thundering, and she felt as if she might fly apart. She clutched his shirt, her fingers digging into the flesh beneath as she tried to anchor herself against the storm that was buffeting her.

She heard him say something, but there was a roaring in her ears and she couldn’t quite make out the words. The words weren’t important; she could hear the fierce tenderness in his tone, and that was what she needed. His fingers slipped out of her, and she made a soft sound of distress, her hips rolling toward him. Swiftly he stripped her panties off and returned his hand to her body. This time she willingly parted her thighs, and felt the eager dampness between them. The intrusion, when it came, was exquisite relief, yet the relief lasted only a moment. The slow thrust of his fingers elicited a deep, powerful hunger, so that his touch wasn’t an easing, but a need. Then his rough thumb searched upward in her soft folds and pressed on the small, tautly swelling nub at the top of her sex. Pure fire exploded through her nerves, and she gave a strained cry as she curled toward him.

He held her tightly against him, subduing her sensual struggles. He was talking to her, the words low and hoarse in her ear, encouraging her to greater heights while his strength kept her safely grounded. He continued to circle and rub with his thumb, tormenting the little nubbin, each touch making the fire burn hotter. A pulse began throbbing between her legs, beating in a rhythm she had never felt before. Passion was a brand, searing her flesh with its invisible mark.

“D-Dane!” It was a wail almost of anguish. He tilted her head back and set his mouth on hers, his tongue repeating the invasive movements of his fingers, the pressure hard and rough. She reveled in it, reaching up to cling to his heavy shoulders, offering her mouth more fully to him.

It built quickly, sensation spiraling into a tighter and tighter coil, and suddenly it was too much. Her entire body clenched, then surged wildly as her climax rolled through her in waves. She shook in uncontrollable spasms, feeling as if she were flying apart. He held her close, letting her know that she wasn’t alone in the tempest. She cried out in a thin, hoarse voice, and he muffled the cries with his own mouth.

The crest of sensation subsided, though small shock waves continued to ripple through her loins. She went limp, her face buried against his chest while she gasped for breath. He shifted her, then his muscles tensed beneath her and he got to his feet, holding her firmly in his arms. She gripped his shirt as he carried her swiftly into the bedroom and placed her on the bed. Her robe was hanging on her shoulders, and he pulled it completely away, then stood and began stripping off his own clothes.

He hadn’t turned on the light, but the door was open, and light from the living room spilled across the bed. Marlie lay without moving, enveloped in a lassitude so complete that she thought she might never move again. In that quiet state of subconsciousness, with her physical senses so acute and her mental processes barely functioning, she could feel every slow, heavy beat of her heart as it moved blood through her veins. Her pulse throbbed in the tender places of her body.

With an effort, she lifted her heavy eyelids and watched him undress. His urgency was an almost palpable force, his movements swift and violent. In only seconds, his powerful form was bare. He crawled over her, his hard thighs pushing between hers and forcing them wide, then settled his heavy weight on her.

There was a wonderful stillness, a silence, both without and within. With incredible joy, and some trepidation, she felt the hardness of his genitals against the yielding softness of her own. He braced himself on one arm and reached between them with his other hand, guiding his shaft as he tensed his buttocks and slowly began pushing into her.

Marlie’s breath tangled in her throat, and she felt herself drowning in sensation again. She had felt stretched by his fingers probing her, but his thick sex filled her to the point of distress. Though she was damp, her delicate inner tissues were swollen by his previous attentions; her sheath was ultrasensitive, tightening convulsively on him as he inexorably thrust himself to the hilt. She gave a soft, panicked sound of discomfort that verged on real pain.

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