9

Once Nick kissed Arabella, things began to move very quickly. Her hand was on his cock as he kissed down her neck, rolling her nipples between thumb and forefinger, pinching hard enough to draw a gasp. He pressed a kiss to her right breast, then took the nipple in his mouth, teasing the tip with his tongue. He was rewarded with a moan of pure impatience. "Nick ..."

He kissed his way back to her ear. Her skin was hot now. He slipped a hand between their bodies, finding her cunt, pressing the heel of his hand against her clitoris. "Do you want me to fuck you, Arabella?"

Her breath hitched, and she nodded. She gripped his shoulder with her free hand, digging the nails in, as she gave his length a squeeze.

He licked, then nibbled her earlobe, moving his hand against her, giving her friction. She leaned into his hand, began to move her hips so sensually that it took everything in him not to push her to the floor and mount her.

"I want to oblige you," he whispered in her ear. "Very, very badly."

"Please," she said, in the tone she'd learned sent the blood racing to his cock.

He gathered her wetness on his fingers, and stroked them over her clitoris in insistent, focused circles. His breath uneven in her ear. "I want to be inside you. All the way in you. I want to give you every inch."

"Nick—do it now—"

"No, pet. I need you ready." Her hips were moving mindlessly in the rhythm of his fingers. "I need you as wet, and soft, and open as you can be for me."

She turned her head, met his mouth with her own, her tongue finding his at once, satiny but insistent, as if to give him exactly what he demanded— wet, soft, open. He groaned, and the kiss became a battle, her need and his meeting, fighting, merging.

He kept the rhythm of his fingers on her clitoris, and with his other hand, took hers from his cock. He pushed it under his own, onto her slippery sex. "Pleasure yourself," he told her, his voice fraying with want, "While I give you a taste of it." And he slid two fingers into her cunt.

Her eyes flew open, and their gazes locked, their faces very close, ragged breath breaking over each other as he moved his fingers deep and fast, and her hand moved faster. "Yes," he whispered. "Keep those brilliant eyes on me."

She bit her lip, engulfed in the rising sensation. Eyes still trained to him, heavy-lidded now, glittering.

He fucked her deeply with his fingers, watching every hitch, every sensation. Seeing the pleasure rise in her, overwhelming.

"Let me have it, pet," he whispered. "Come apart for me."

Her moans rose higher, cracked, and she fought to keep her gaze on his as the wave hit its peak and released, flooding her, shaking her whole body. She pressed her slick cunt hard into his hand.

And then she fell against him, limp, sweaty, still trembling.

He wrapped his arms around her and held her there a moment, feeling the full weight of her, feeling her cunt, swollen, so very slippery and hot against his cock.

"Good God. Nick, " she murmured into his shoulder. Then raised her head to look at him. Her eyes two clear, bright universes.

"You are always beautiful," he said, winding his hands into her hair. "But in your pleasure, you are a goddess."

"Mmm," she smiled dreamily. "I like that. Not your lover. Your goddess."

Arabella was playful, and Nick wanted to match her tone, but he felt the weight of it deeper inside him. "Yes," he said softly. "Exactly that."

She slid her hand down his body, and found his cock. "Then this belongs to me."

"I'd be a fool to deny it."

She braced her other hand on his shoulder, and rose up on her knees. Sliding his cock over her, now. A tremor ran through him, and he had to fight to keep from flexing his hips.

She notched the head of him to the incredible wet heat of her opening. He stopped breathing.

Gripping his shaft, she pressed down over him, until she had taken his head inside her tightness. She breathed out on a sound of discovery, feeling it.

"Yes," he said, watching, holding himself as still as he could, letting her adjust.

She slid down a little farther. Another inch. He bit back a groan. He was trembling, now, with the effort it took not to pump into her.

A flush spread over her. Her brow furrowed in concentration. "I am realizing," she whispered to him, "with some concern, that you ... are very large."

He gave a low chuckle. Smoothed his hands down her bare back. "Slowly, then."

"I'm not sure if I can . . ."

"You can," he promised, stroking her hips. "You're going to take all of me, beauty. I am going to fuck you so sweetly. You'll see how we fit. You'll feel it." He held her with one hand at the waist, to steady her, and the other he pressed between her breasts, to the warm skin. "I have you, pet."

Something deepened in her gaze. Some tension unknotting and letting go. She pushed down, taking more of him in. Sweet mercy, she was tight. By strength of will, he held perfectly still as she took a breath, raised up, then eased down with a whimper, taking half of him.

She put both hands on his shoulders, now. Quivering as she held herself there for a long moment, half-impaled on his cock.

He ran his hands along her body, dropped tiny kisses along her clavicle. "So sweet," he murmured. "You're flaying me alive with this tight little cunt, you know." She gave a breathy laugh. She was trembling with the effort of holding herself up over him. "Come now, Bella. Take all of me." Her eyes widened. "Take me," he urged. "So I can make love to you. Let me have you now."

She inhaled deep. And let her weight drop onto him, taking him to the hilt with a surprised hiss.

He heard pain in it. He brought a hand to her face as she blinked, feeling everything.

She looked to him, overwhelmed. He did not move inside her, though the velvet grip of her was unbearable, impossible, purpose-made to drive him mad.

"It's ..." She raised up a little, experimentally, then moved down over him again. The feel of her—the need to fuck up into her, now— he shut his eye against it so hard he saw stars on the backs of his eyelid.

She did it again, lifting higher, then sliding down. " Oh."

The sound she made was wonder—understanding and need, an edge of pain shimmering into something else, something she wanted more of.

He looked down, to where they were joined. He had to fuck her. Had to . Now.

He bit back the urge. He would give her what she needed.

She moved on him again, testing, feeling him in her. "It feels . . . it's so . . . I want it."

He took her hips and moved her, gliding her back and forth over him, showing her the motion.

She repeated it, sending a cascade of harsh pleasure through him. "That's it."

She moved, finding a rhythm. She gripped his shoulders, biting her lip as she felt the sensations of him.

She paused. "Nick . . . I want . . ."

"Anything."

"Take me," she breathed.

He could have come right then. He felt a wicked smile curve his mouth. "Temptress. Siren."

He hooked an arm behind her back and carefully lowered her onto the settee. Lowered himself over her, and guided his cock into her.

He eased all the way out, then slowly pushed back in to the hilt. Eliciting a surprised noise high in her throat. He paused, looking down at her, trying to read if he had hurt her. He could not help it—the worry.

"It's ..." her eyes were wide. "It's extraordinary." She wrapped her arms around him and pulled his weight onto her. "More," she said in his ear.

He moved again, and again, trying to keep the rhythm slow, easy, fighting the mad hot impulse to push into her hard and fast. "Mother of Christ, the feel of you," he gritted.

Abruptly, she put her hands on his cheeks, pulling him to look at her. Her eyes fiercer, now. "Nick."

She wanted . . . something. "Tell me."

"You are holding back."

He slowed. "Bella, it's your first—"

"I'm not made from glass. Let me feel all of you. Let me meet you there."

He felt a surge run through him—desire and panic—

"I was promised a merciless devouring." A playful look lit her eyes. "I submit."

Those words bypassed his hesitation, pulled a feral sound from him, even as she wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper into her. Yes.

When he allowed himself to move faster, she met his rhythm immediately. Urging him, welcoming it. Meeting her like this, stronger, more demanding, felt right, necessary. Closer to the truth. The tight control he'd kept over himself frayed.

Then, abruptly, it broke.

And he was driving into her, intent, the world gathering into a single, white-hot point of need. Her moans grew higher, sharper. Their joining became its own force. She moved her body with his, against his, a dance, a battle, a spell. A melding. He could feel her edges dissolving, feel himself becoming part of her with each sharp thrust, pulling separate, again becoming one. Their sounds filled the room, torn breath, voice, skin against skin, a storm as violent, powerful, total as the one outside.

"Nick . . . yes . . ." A raw, hungry note he'd never heard in her voice before.

He bent his head to taste her, take her moans into his mouth. "You like that," he whispered, ragged. "When I take what I need."

"Yes ... take it ." The words were a command, Arabella taking even as he did. And all at once, taking his pleasure was one and the same with giving it, giving her what she demanded, serving it to her, serving her. And that lit him afire, made him wild.

Take it. He pulled her hands from his body, pushed them over her head and pinned them to the settee, hard, and she pushed against his grip, trying to get closer to him, twisting her body to meet his. He held both her wrists in one hand, pushed the other down her body. "I need to feel you shatter around me," he said against her lips. He stroked her clitoris as he plunged into her, and her moans rose until they were high, cracked cries. "I need to feel it," he rasped. "Angel ... goddess ... Come around my cock. Drench me with it."

Her cries became a keen, and her back arched. " Nick —" His hips moved faster, deeper as she shook, gasping his name. He could feel the pulse of her climax squeezing his length, and that sent him over the edge, his hips relentless, frantic, drumming as he pressed his face into her neck, let the jasmine and salt of her hair envelop him, drown him in her scent, kill him and send him to heaven. He buried his cock deep inside her as his release shook him over and over and over.

And then it was quiet. Only the sounds of their harsh breathing, and the snap of the fire, and the rain beating steadily on the roof.

Nick slowly came back to himself. Realized he was sprawled heavily over Arabella, one arm and leg hanging over the edge of the settee.

With some effort, he lifted himself up on his arms. He gave a short, sharp laugh at their cramped and tangled position. "The ridiculous thing of it is—there's a bed right there ," he said, and moved to extricate himself from her and sit up.

Her eyes were closed. A smile had shimmered over her at his dry remark, then faded. She lay there, breathing deeply, her attention internal, on all the sensations in her body.

He watched. He could, he thought, watch her like this forever.

When he saw her brow furrow, ever so slightly, he soothed a hand over her cheek and held it.

And then tears were leaking from under both lids, trailing down her cheeks.

He froze. Waiting to see what she'd do. Would she shrink from him? Run?

But she stayed as she was. Tiny hitches in her breathing. Tears flowing.

"Bella," he said softly. "Sweetheart."

"All is well," she said shakily, without opening her eyes. "All is very, very well. It's only ..." But she couldn't speak, because she was crying.

A deep softness for her welled up in him. Understanding. What they'd just shared was not small for him either. It defied easy definition, the depth of their joining.

He stroked her wet cheek. "Can I hold you? Come, let me. It's all right." He took her hand, gently coaxing her to him.

She sat up, and put her face into his bare shoulder, and let out a sob. He stroked the back of her neck, under her damp hair.

"I'm fine. I'm well," she insisted into his shoulder.

"Oh, I know." He gave a quiet laugh. "Now you see how people rally entire armies over it. Fight wars. Abandon all reason. Ruin their lives."

She lifted her head to look at him. The tears were abating now. Her eyes were huge and very clear in the flickering light. "Everything I thought it would be ... still, it was–I didn't realize it was also ...so profound. I am at a loss to understand how people manage to discuss anything but the wonder of it, ever."

He shrugged lightly. "It's not always like that."

"No?" She searched his face.

"No," he said, quieter. He took her warm hand in his. "But then, we established that you are no ordinary mortal woman."

She quirked a smile at that. "You're teasing me."

He shook his head. "It felt ... rather like worship." He said it matter-of-factly.

She sat back, absorbing this, her hand still tight in his. For a moment, they sat there like that, side by side, naked, watching the shift of the fire's light and shadow on the floor.

"To think I could have lived my entire life and never felt it," she murmured. "Like never hearing music. Or tasting sugar. And to think I might never have had the chance to see you like that." She threw him a sidewise look under lashes. "You're ... glorious."

He shrugged. "I was inspired."

"I could draw you now," she said, with a laugh. Then she turned to him, to regard him thoughtfully. "Actually ... I rather want to, if you'd let me."