Mastered by Love (Bastion Club 8) - Page 110

Pressing deeper than he’d ever been. Her toes curled, then he withdrew and thrust in again, seating himself even more fully within her.

She struggled to catch her breath, lost all she’d gained as he again thrust into her hard and deep.

Holding her to him, open and helpless, he set up a steady, driving rhythm that had her fingers curling, sinking into and clutching the crimson-and-gold brocade as he pounded into her, then he varied the speed, then the depth, then rolling his hips, he somehow caressed her deep inside.

She could swear she could feel him at the back of her throat.

She wasn’t sure she was going to survive this, not this degree of shuddering intimacy. This absolute degree of physical possession. She could feel the thunder in his blood, feel the wave of heated need and physical desperation rise and build.

When it crashed it would sweep them both away.

Gasping, frantic, she was clinging to reality when he leaned over her, one fist sinking into the bed alongside her shoulder. He still held her hips up, anchoring her, holding her captive for his relentless penetration

His belly curved over the back of her hips; she could feel the heat of his chest all across her back as he bowed his head. His breath sawed past her ear, then he nuzzled the curve of her neck.

“Just let go.”

She heard the words from a long way away; they sounded like a plea.

“Just let it happen—let it come.”

She heard his breath hitch, then he pressed deep inside her, shortened his thrusts so he was barely withdrawing at all, just moving deep within her, rolling his hips into hers, stroking her inside.

The climax hit her so hard, on so many levels, she screamed.

Her body seemed to pulse, and pulse, and pulse with successive waves of glory, each brighter, sharper, more glittering as sensation spiraled, erupted, splintered, then flashed down every overwrought nerve, sank and melted under every single inch of sensitized skin.

Completion had never been so absolute.

Royce held her through it. His erection sunk deep within her convulsing sheath, he felt every scalding ripple, every glorious moment of her release; eyes closed, he savored it, savored her, savored the fulfillment he found in her body, and in her.

His own release beckoned, tempted, lured, but while he’d wanted to take her like this, he also wanted more.

Greedy, but…

It took effort to rein his aroused and hungry body in, to gradually slow his deep but short thrusts until he held still within her. He took one last moment to drink in the sensation of her sheath gripping his erection all along its rigid length, the scalding velvet glove of all men’s fantasies.

Only when he was sure he had his body under full control did he risk pulling back from her.

Bracing her body with one hand, with the other he wrestled the covers down, then scooped her up and laid her back down. High in his bed, her head and shoulders cushioned in the pile of pillows, her delicate, flushed skin soothed by the cool silk of his sheets.

He sat back on his ankles, and looked at her, some primitive part of his psyche gloating. He fixed the image in his mind—her hair a rumpled silken veil flung over his pillows, her lush body lax and sated, skin still flushed, nipples still peaked, her hips and breasts bearing the telltale marks of his possession.

Exactly as he always wanted to see her.

Her head tilted slightly on the pillows; from beneath her long lashes, her golden eyes glinted as she watched him studying her. Her gaze slowly trailed down his body.

Then she raised one arm, reached out, and closed her fingers about his aching erection. She stroked slowly down, then lightly up.

Then she released him, settled deeper into the pillows, held out her arms to him, and spread her legs wide.

He went to her, into her arms, settled between her widespread thighs, and sank, so easily, into her body, into her embrace.

Where he belonged.

He no longer doubted that; he buried his face in the hollow between her shoulder and throat, and with long, slow strokes, gave himself up to her.

Felt her accept him, her arms wrapping around his shoulders, her hands spread on his back, her legs rising to clasp his flanks as she tilted her hips and drew him yet deeper.

Tags: Stephanie Laurens Bastion Club Historical
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