Lord of Raven's Peak - Catherine Coulter [67]
But this was different, he was a man now, and Gunnvor was only a boy’s memory.
He was mad, he knew it in that moment, utterly mad, his judgment shattered, his reason flown to the four winds. Then he saw himself in his madness, saw her beyond the softness and yielding she was offering him. He saw the situation, and he saw Taby—all of it in one sharp moment—and he knew he would be beyond mad to take her. He drew a shuddering breath, even as her mouth kissed his, her tongue lightly touched his, making him shudder and heave with the pleasure of it.
But he wanted her, very badly. Just this once, aye, then he’d be free of her and her girl’s idealized lust for him and she would be free of him as well. That was what she had said.
Aye, he’d be free. He wouldn’t have her there in his mind, in his thoughts. His worry for her, his fear for her, would only be as Taby’s sister, nothing else.
His eyes were dark and intense with need and control. He kissed her hard and deep, his tongue going into her mouth with a man’s lust, and no gentleness. He felt her stiffen instantly at the assault, and he gentled immediately, furious with himself. He undressed her quickly, without care of her clothing, and when his clothes were off as well, when he was at last kissing her breasts, feeling them with his hands, holding them in his palms, trying desperately not to lose himself in their feel, their taste, he was forced to close his eyes at the joy she brought him, not just her breasts, but how her hands were on his chest, his arms, around his back, drawing him to her, moaning softly, not at all afraid of him. And kissing him. Even now her lips were nipping his shoulders, then licking where she’d nipped his flesh.
His hand went down to her flat belly, feeling her thinness, her still prominent pelvic bones, but not caring, for she was alive and that was all that mattered. His hand went lower until he was touching her woman’s flesh lightly with his fingertips, and to his immense delight, she shuddered. She wanted him, he knew it, and she trusted him, at least in this, the giving of her body to him.
His hand trembled. He looked at her soft flesh, knew he wanted to taste her, but also realized in that moment that it would probably shock her, and the last thing he wanted to do now was make her retreat from him. He couldn’t have borne that.
He closed his eyes, refusing to look at that thin body that was quivering for him, just for him. His mouth closed over her nipple and she lurched up, giving him more of herself, and her hands were wild on his back, his shoulders, his buttocks. She was encouraging him, not really knowing how to, and her ignorance was more exciting than any woman of more experience he’d ever enjoyed. His mouth was on her belly, then lower, and he didn’t care if she was shocked, or frightened, he had to taste her, explore her, feel all of her with his fingers, with his mouth.
He pulled her legs wide apart, settling himself between them. He didn’t want to look at her, but he had to, drawing her apart with his fingers, and then he caressed her with his fingers, his mouth.
She was stiff and still. Then, suddenly, she screamed with the power of it.
Quickly, he slammed his hand over her mouth, still fondling her as he did so, and she was twisting her head, nearly beside herself now, and he knew he couldn’t wait another instant, another minute, for he would spill his seed on her belly, and by all the gods, he wanted to be deep inside her, have her holding him within her when he reached his release.
He shoved hard into her. He felt the tearing pain, for it was difficult to get into her, she was small, her flesh loosening and dampening, but it wasn’t enough, and he’d known she wasn’t completely ready for him, but he didn’t stop, just kept pushing harder