CHAPTER 13

KISS IT AND MAKE IT wet.

Oh, with pleasure. His tool had not diminished in size. If anything, it had become larger. But it had ceased to intimidate her. Now she craved it. It looked so strong and manly, like the rest of him.

Her flesh still quivered from the pleasure he had brought forth, feeling empty and instinctively needing him inside. Rising on her elbow, she took hold of his rod with a firm hand, as he had shown her before, then leaned towards him to brush her lips over the tip.

Remembering the pearly droplet she had lapped up before, the strong response it had triggered in him, a sense of feminine power impelled her, banishing doubts. This formidable man desired her. He was fairly buzzing with lust for her. Without hesitation, she opened her lips and enveloped the entire head in her mouth. His hand tightened in her hair, and when she took a bit more and sucked, his groan was feral.

"Oh, fuck, my muse. You'll be the death of me. That's it. Take a bit more. Use your tongue... Yes! Now move your hand up and down. You suck my cock so well."

She followed all his instructions like a conscientious pupil, adding her own twist as instinct took over. He had given her so much pleasure and an even greater gift. Through his eyes, she felt beautiful, feminine, and powerful. She wanted to make him feel as good as he made her feel. Wanted to worship his body with the same reverence he had shown hers and wanted to shatter him with bliss the same way he had done to her.

Propelled by enthusiasm, her caresses became deeper, stronger, more uninhibited. She realized now why he enjoyed pleasuring her this way. There was heady power in bringing ecstasy to your lover. His hips pumped in time with her strokes. He was close, and she was hungry for what he offered.

"Thalia, stop." His voice was strangled. She heard the command but was having too much fun to obey. His hands cradled her face as he pulled away. "Stop, my little firebrand. You are going to make me spend in your mouth."

With a last minor act of defiance, she sucked hard, hollowing her cheeks as he popped his member out of her mouth. It bobbed heavily before her face, and she gave it a parting lick. His grunt was somewhere between pain and ecstasy. Maybe a bit of both.

"Oh, you naughty girl. I'm going to make you pay for attempting to make me lose control."

He grabbed the little bag and took the sheath out. Thalia peered at it with unbridled curiosity. She had seen pictures of it, had read pamphlets about their use and benefits, but had never seen one in person. It looked like a wet and wrinkled stocking with a ribbon at the end. Quite peculiar.

With fingers that had lost its usual dexterity, Liam placed it on the tip of his member and started pulling and rolling it down the length of his shaft, similar in the way one would put on a stocking.

"Here, let me help," she said, placing her hands on his member.

The sheath was slippery, but that helped to smooth it on once she got the knack of it. When the sheath was halfway up, she made a circle with her thumb and forefinger and smoothed it all the way.

"That's it, smooth it out." His voice was low, weighted with desire and dark need. "All the way up, my muse. Pinch a little space at the tip. You are doing so well. I don't think I've ever enjoyed putting on a damn sheath so much."

He looked to be on the last thread of his control. His hips pumping helplessly into her hands. She lifted her eyes to look at him between her lashes.

"I had fun as well," she confessed, before lowering her eyes once more to tie the ribbon.

Once she examined her handiwork, it looked quite pretty. Like a present with a ribbon around it. The idea was so ridiculous, a giggle escaped her before she could suppress it.

"Oh, you think my cock is funny?"

She shook her head, but another fit of laughter burst out of her before she clapped her hand over her mouth.

"I'll teach you to laugh at my manhood, you irreverent wench." But his eyes were dancing with laughter as well as he tumbled her to the bed and covered her body with his.

This was it. The moment she had been waiting for.

Hilarity vanished in a wave of heat. He smoothed the hair off her face, looking deep into her eyes. "Are you ready for me, my muse?"

"Yes," she answered, nodding for emphasis.

"Guide me into your sweet haven, then."

With fingers that were not quite steady, she reached down and notched his member at the entrance of her body. She thought he would ram into her, and steeled for it, but he rocked slowly, opening her with shallow thrusts that only breached her a little at a time. It felt so strange. To have this massive intrusion into her flesh. But also deeply erotic.

She relaxed. Her body accepting him, opening for him. She started chasing those thrusts, digging her heels into the bed and lifting in time with him. This wasn't so bad. The friction was quite delicious, as it was the sense of being joined.

His mouth took hers in a deep, possessive kiss. She moaned in ecstasy, relaxing, opening... and he drove home.

Her whimper of pain remained trapped between their mouths as her arms and legs locked about him. They both froze, their gazes clashing. She saw confusion, incomprehension, and disbelief reflected in his eyes.

And her? How did she feel? She didn't dare to breathe, as the burning and stretching sensation still robbed her of speech.

Good God, the pain had been sharper than she had expected. Until that moment, things had been going so well, she actually thought the process would be seamless. But of course, it wasn't. Losing one's virginity was not something that would be easy.

"Thalia? What just happened?"

She shook her head. Unable to articulate a response while her flesh still smarted.

"Fuck." He muttered, drawing back. It intensified the burning sensation. So she tightened her limbs around him.

"Don't move."

"I'm going to withdraw so that you can be more comfortable. It's obvious you are in pain."

"Don't go," she repeated, shaking her head. "It's better now. Just give me a moment, please."

He acquiesced. Thank God. His body was a still and protective presence above her, while his mouth rained soft kisses over her brow and cheeks. The sheer tenderness of the gesture brought her to tears. She closed her eyes, not wanting him to see them and misinterpret them. But one lone droplet escaped from the corner of her eye. She felt it running down her temple until his thumb brushed it away.

"What is it, sweetheart? If you want to stop, I'll stop. Just...talk to me."

"I don't want to stop."

The searing pain she had experienced upon his penetration had receded. Giving way to a dull ache. She took a deep breath, consciously relaxing her internal muscles. And then gave them a tentative squeeze. He grunted but remained immobile. Awaiting her signal.

His patience and tenderness were everything. This man, who looked so large and threatening, whose features seemed carved of the same stone he molded to his will, was a tender soul. A generous lover willing to give pleasure and demand nothing in return. She could not have made a better choice for her first time.

Moved by an overwhelming feeling she dared not analyze, she brought her hands to cradle his jaw, feeling the harsh bristles of a day's beard shadowing the sculpted angles of his face.

"Kiss me," she begged.

He complied with alacrity, fusing their mouths in a deep, slow, thorough kiss that liquified her flesh and started another kind of ache in the place where they joined. She was familiar with this ache. It was a need for completion so profound it made her flesh throb. She rocked her hips into it, trying to create friction to ease the need.

His breath caught, but he still did not move, did not take control. He remained as immobile as a rock, steady, firm, secure. Hovering above her, allowing her to set the pace, to take her pleasure in his body.

But she needed more. Encouraged by his support, she ran her hands down the hard ridges of his back to land on his firm buttocks, kneading the flesh there. Only then did he allow himself the slightest of movement.

"Move," she whispered against his mouth. "Take me, please."

He didn't need to be told twice. With a deep growl, his hips started a deep, slow, relentless pumping. His member slid almost completely out before sinking into her yielding flesh in a leisurely caress. Inch by inch in a delicious, wet slide.

He continued this torturous pace for long minutes, until her body adapted and started demanding more, rising into his thrusts with increased urgency. She knew how much it was costing him to keep the slow, steady pace by the beads of sweat collecting on his forehead. She pressed down on his buttocks again.

"Faster," she whimpered, and he complied, his body an instrument for her pleasure, moving above her, within her, with careful precision. "More!"

She dug her nails into his buttocks, and he broke free. The beast in him taking over. Ramming into her with absolute abandon, creating a maelstrom of desire. She laughed at the pure delight of it, breaking free herself. Free of inhibitions, free of fear. A creature of carnal delight.

Pleasure-pain coiled with frightening intensity within her. She chased the sensation, blocking everything but the wonderful sight of his harsh face, his lips curled in, revealing his teeth in a feral expression, his eyes, that beheld her with thrilling intensity, and the delicious slide of his body in hers, stroking a place of white-hot pleasure, which was beckoning. Tantalizingly close. She needed just an extra push to get there...

"Liam," she sobbed his name, hoping he'd know what she needed. He did.

He dipped his head to fasten his mouth around her nipple, pulling savagely, while below, his pelvis rammed into hers in a series of fast, deep thrusts.

And she exploded.

There was no other way to describe it. She might have lost consciousness for a moment. That's how intense it was. As if through a thick fog, she heard cries of ecstasy mingled with a mighty roar. They seemed distant, their sound muted, but she knew it was them. Him. Her. The deep pulsations of his rod inside her told her he had reached his own climax.

She hoped it was as good as hers. Better, even. She felt mighty generous after the most intense experience of her life.