she protested with a light swat on his shoulder. “He’s waiting for me. He’ll be expecting me any min—ah!”
Nash’s fingers found the part in her drawers, dipped into her slick, swollen slit. “This won’t take much time,” he said on a raspy laugh. “We’re both so hot for each other, it will be over in a minute. Two at the most.”
The way her flesh leaped as his touch grazed her there, she was fairly certain he was right. She arched into his touch, a hot rush of need sluicing through her core.
“I wish I could take longer with you, my love,” he murmured apologetically against her head. “We ought to take it slow your first time, gentle. But I’m afraid I can’t do that.”
Joy bubbled up in her chest, counterbalancing the heavy longing in the pit of her belly. She could either fly or sink to earth. Or both.
“That’s all right,” she said, lifting her face to meet his eyes. “I don’t want you to be slow or gentle.”
“Thank God,” he muttered.
And then he was kissing her, his mouth not merely taking hers, but laying claim as if her lips were an undiscovered country and he was in charge of placing the king’s flag. Without once breaking the kiss, he eased them both to the forest floor until he sat with his back against the tree trunk, Tish on her knees straddling his hips, his cock jutting upward between her legs.
Nash’s fingers delved into her sex, finding her most sensitive spot with unerring precision. Her climax was swift and hard but somehow unfulfilling. She needed more, so much more.
He seemed to read her mind. Breaking their kiss, he grasped his cock in one hand and slid the other to rest on Tish’s hip. “Lower yourself onto it, my love.”
Even though she had no confidence that such a thing could work, as she was quite certain this was not at all the proper way to go about this—she did as he bid her. She was too needful to do otherwise.
He angled his cock so that, as she eased downward, the pliant tip rested against her opening. At that point, he released his hold on himself and placed his hand on her other hip.
“Kiss me,” he ordered.
She leaned forward and pressed her mouth to his, reveling in the tangy-sweet taste of his mouth. More delicious than any dessert, more fulfilling than any hors d’ouevres . Definitely the main course…
Without warning, he thrust upward, breaching her maidenhead and burying himself to the hilt within her. Splitting her in half.
“Ow!” Her cry of pain was muffled by his mouth. Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes at the sharp, tearing sensation.
He brushed tender, soothing kisses to her lips and cheeks. “I’m sorry, love. It gets better, I promise.”
He was right. It did get better. As he continued to hold her steady, their bodies joined, the sting of invasion gave way to an intoxicating sense of fullness and an overwhelming desire to move. She shifted her hips in an unconscious effort to appease her body’s demands for motion, for friction, for completion.
“That was faster than I expected,” Nash muttered. “Christ, you are the most amazing woman, Tish Langston.”
“Blake,” she corrected, confused.
“I’m inside you, love. That makes you Tish Langston.”
“But we’re not married yet.”
“As far as I’m concerned, we are. The wedding is just a formality.” He steadied her hips with his hands. “This,” he said, withdrawing and driving back inside her, giving her exactly what she had wanted without even knowing she was asking for it, “is all that matters.”
He was right about that, too. Time and place and even Tish’s sense of where she endedand Nash began dissolved away, leaving only the exquisite pleasure of their bodies melding into one. They moved in opposition and yet in unison, exchanged fierce kisses and tender bites, groaned both hosannas and imprecations.
The crisis overtook her first with rhythmic convulsions of rapture that stole both breath and thought. Nash followed her in
Nash’s fingers found the part in her drawers, dipped into her slick, swollen slit. “This won’t take much time,” he said on a raspy laugh. “We’re both so hot for each other, it will be over in a minute. Two at the most.”
The way her flesh leaped as his touch grazed her there, she was fairly certain he was right. She arched into his touch, a hot rush of need sluicing through her core.
“I wish I could take longer with you, my love,” he murmured apologetically against her head. “We ought to take it slow your first time, gentle. But I’m afraid I can’t do that.”
Joy bubbled up in her chest, counterbalancing the heavy longing in the pit of her belly. She could either fly or sink to earth. Or both.
“That’s all right,” she said, lifting her face to meet his eyes. “I don’t want you to be slow or gentle.”
“Thank God,” he muttered.
And then he was kissing her, his mouth not merely taking hers, but laying claim as if her lips were an undiscovered country and he was in charge of placing the king’s flag. Without once breaking the kiss, he eased them both to the forest floor until he sat with his back against the tree trunk, Tish on her knees straddling his hips, his cock jutting upward between her legs.
Nash’s fingers delved into her sex, finding her most sensitive spot with unerring precision. Her climax was swift and hard but somehow unfulfilling. She needed more, so much more.
He seemed to read her mind. Breaking their kiss, he grasped his cock in one hand and slid the other to rest on Tish’s hip. “Lower yourself onto it, my love.”
Even though she had no confidence that such a thing could work, as she was quite certain this was not at all the proper way to go about this—she did as he bid her. She was too needful to do otherwise.
He angled his cock so that, as she eased downward, the pliant tip rested against her opening. At that point, he released his hold on himself and placed his hand on her other hip.
“Kiss me,” he ordered.
She leaned forward and pressed her mouth to his, reveling in the tangy-sweet taste of his mouth. More delicious than any dessert, more fulfilling than any hors d’ouevres . Definitely the main course…
Without warning, he thrust upward, breaching her maidenhead and burying himself to the hilt within her. Splitting her in half.
“Ow!” Her cry of pain was muffled by his mouth. Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes at the sharp, tearing sensation.
He brushed tender, soothing kisses to her lips and cheeks. “I’m sorry, love. It gets better, I promise.”
He was right. It did get better. As he continued to hold her steady, their bodies joined, the sting of invasion gave way to an intoxicating sense of fullness and an overwhelming desire to move. She shifted her hips in an unconscious effort to appease her body’s demands for motion, for friction, for completion.
“That was faster than I expected,” Nash muttered. “Christ, you are the most amazing woman, Tish Langston.”
“Blake,” she corrected, confused.
“I’m inside you, love. That makes you Tish Langston.”
“But we’re not married yet.”
“As far as I’m concerned, we are. The wedding is just a formality.” He steadied her hips with his hands. “This,” he said, withdrawing and driving back inside her, giving her exactly what she had wanted without even knowing she was asking for it, “is all that matters.”
He was right about that, too. Time and place and even Tish’s sense of where she endedand Nash began dissolved away, leaving only the exquisite pleasure of their bodies melding into one. They moved in opposition and yet in unison, exchanged fierce kisses and tender bites, groaned both hosannas and imprecations.
The crisis overtook her first with rhythmic convulsions of rapture that stole both breath and thought. Nash followed her in
Similar Books
