The Men of Medicine Ridge - Diana Palmer [62]
In the tense, lazy minutes that followed, she was all too eager to shed her clothing, because her body was hungry for his mouth and his hands. They felt warm in the faint chill of the air conditioner, but she was blind to the light that flowed in through the venetian blinds as he ripped the cover off the bed and pushed the pillows after it. His body moved lazily against hers between urgent unfastening and unbuttoning. He managed to get the fabric out of the way and follow it with two pairs of shoes in a blind, throbbing heat that had both of them out of their minds with desire.
“I thought I’d go mad before the ceremony,” he said against her breasts. “I ached like a boy before his first time. All I could think about was that night we lay naked together in your bed, and you let me satisfy you!”
“I thought about it, too,” she groaned, clinging to him. “I want it again. I want you!”
“I want you, too,” he said huskily, suckling her a little roughly in his ardor. “More than you realize!”
He lifted away from her for a minute, his expression barely controlled, tense. He looked at her nudity with raging desire while he gauged her readiness for what was to come. He traced a torturous path down her taut body and touched her blatantly, his eye narrow and glittery.
“Yes, you’re ready,” he breathed.
She wondered how he knew, but before she could ask, he was moving her closer to him with an expertise she couldn’t begin to match.
He rolled onto his side, pulling her between his long, powerful legs. His hands settled on her slender hips, moving her against the hard thrust of him in an arousing rhythm as he played hungrily with her soft, parted lips.
One of his long legs eased between both of hers in a teasing motion that was even more arousing than the play of his warm hands on her bare skin. She shivered and tried to get closer.
“Don’t rush it,” he said tenderly. “I have to be slow, so that I don’t hurt you too much. Let me show you what I want you to do.”
He guided her with his hips until she was right up against him in an intimacy they’d never shared unclothed. Her eyes widened as she felt him in the most intimate place of all. She jerked a little at the unfamiliar closeness.
“That’s it, sweetheart,” he coaxed, both hands on her hips, drawing her over him tenderly so that he moved slowly against the faint barrier she could feel.
Her hands bit into his hard arms. She stared at him, fascinated at the play of expressions on his taut features as his body began to invade hers with the advent of a sharp, unexpected pain. He hesitated, and his hand went between them, working magic on her tense muscles.
She began to shiver with the onrush of pleasure, diverted from the pain. He was so blatant with his ardor that she lost the last vestiges of fear and began to move with him, hungry, greedy for more of the fierce pleasure he was teaching her.
“It won’t hurt for long,” he promised as he began to move closer. “I’ll be careful with you.”
“I don’t care,” she choked, pushing against him in an agony of need. Her eyes closed on a sob. “Oh, please, Mack! It aches so!”
“Natalie,” he groaned, losing his patience in the heated brushing of her thighs against his. He brought her against him hard while his mouth ground into hers. He felt her body open to him completely, hesitate, flinch briefly.
His eye opened and looked into both of hers, but she wasn’t hesitating, she wasn’t protesting. Her eyes were blind with passion, her face flushed with desire.
His hands contracted while he watched her face. She gasped at the slow, deep, sweet invasion and moaned sharply as her body adjusted to this new and wonderful intimacy.
“Don’t tense,” he whispered.
“I’m not!” she whispered back, swallowing hard. “It feels…” Her eyes closed and she gasped. “So good, Mack! So…good! So good!”
She was sobbing with every fierce movement of his hips, her hands clutching at him, her body following the quick, hard dance of his in the silence of the room. Spirals of pleasure