The Heiress Bride - Catherine Coulter [46]
Every pleasant feeling evaporated in the flash of an instant. Sinjun stared at him, now between her legs, raising her knees, positioning her for himself. He was too big, far too big; it was unimaginable. “No,” she said, panicked now, as she pressed her fists against his hairy chest. “Please, Colin, I have changed my mind. I should like to wait, perhaps Christmas might be a nice—”
He came into her and she yelled, pressing her hips into the feather mattress, but he only grasped her hips in his hands and pushed deeper and deeper still. She tried to hold herself still, to keep her cries deep in her throat, but it was difficult. She closed her eyes against him and against the pain, but it became only more rending. Then she felt him stop inside her and he was breathing hard, his voice trembling when he said, “Your maidenhead, I’ve got to get through it. Don’t scream. Sweet Jesus, I’m sorry, sweetheart.” He pushed forward even before he stopped speaking, and she yelled, loud and hoarse, and he brought his hand down quickly over her mouth, muffling her cries, and he was touching her womb and she hated it, hated the pain and the rawness of it, the alien invasion of her body, but he wasn’t hurt, oh no, he was a wild man, driving into her then pulling out, again and again until suddenly he was rigid over her, his back arched, stiff as a board, and she opened her eyes and stared up at him to see that his eyes were closed, his head thrown back, his throat working against what seemed to her to be a raging cataclysm.
He moaned, then yelled, muted because of her brothers, she assumed, then he fell forward on her. She felt him then inside her, the wetness of him, his man’s seed, and she felt . . . she didn’t know what she felt. The pain he’d inflicted in her body, yes that, certainly, but more than the throbbing pain, the rawness. He’d lied, telling her to trust him, and like a twit she had, at least a little bit, until he’d forced himself into her.
She felt betrayed.
He was breathing hard, his face beside hers on the pillow. His body was heavy on hers. She felt the sheen of sweat on him and on her.
It was difficult for her to speak calmly, because she wanted to strike him and scream at him, but she managed it. “I didn’t like that, Colin. It was awful.”
His heart was drumming in his ears. He was breathing so hard he thought he would burst with it. He felt as if he’d been flattened, and every minute of his flattening had been wondrous, beyond anything he could have imagined . . . . And she didn’t like it? It was awful? No, it couldn’t be true. He shook his head. He must have misunderstood her.
He calmed his breathing. It took him a good deal of time. She remained quiet, not moving beneath him, and he imagined that he was heavy on her, but he didn’t move. He was still inside her, not so deep now, but the feel of her flesh made him shudder with pleasure and need. Finally he managed to raise himself on his elbows. He stared down at his wife.
Unconsciously, he pushed forward and high into her, breaching her deeply, and she winced, gritting her teeth. He stopped immediately.
“I’m sorry,” he said, but he wasn’t, not for what had happened, because he had enjoyed it more than he ever had in his life. “Your virginity, it’s past now, and there won’t be any more pain.”
Her calm was cracking. “You lied to me, Colin. You said it would work. You told me to trust you.”
“Naturally, I’m your husband. It did work, can’t you feel me? I’m supposed to be inside you. I’m supposed to spill my seed in your womb. It will be easier next time. Perhaps you will even enjoy it. You did somewhat this time, didn’t you?”
“I don’t remember.”
She didn’t damn remember? Ah, but he wanted her again. It surprised him and dismayed him. Surely he wasn’t a rutting savage to maul his innocent bride yet again. No, he wasn’t. He groaned,