The Rebel Bride by Catherine Coulter

She could picture him, now balanced on his elbow gazing down at her. His fingers played over the softness of her belly, and paused, ever so slightly, before closing over the curly auburn triangle of hair. His touch was feather light, never more than feather light, but so knowing, always knowing, searching and learning her.

Why? Why wasn’t he savaging her? She knew it was rape, yet he wasn’t acting the rapist. His gentleness, his quiet exploration, his insistence that she respond, didn’t fit, and she was lost in confusion and fear and the growing feelings he was arousing in her.

His fingers continued their exploration, pressing and probing the softness between her thighs.

She cried out in shock, the humiliation of it burning deep inside her, and she cursed him again, then begged him to leave her alone, please, just to leave her alone for a moment, just for a minute. But slowly and rhythmically he stroked her, his other hand roving upward to stroke and learn her breasts.

Impossible to struggle free of him, for his hands seemed to touch and probe every part of her body, the gentle pressure of his fingers burning deeper and deeper. Exhausted, she ceased her struggles. She heard her own sobs, felt her body, and knew that he was learning her as she herself was learning to fence, learning her, studying her, knowing her. She tried to detach her mind, but she couldn’t. She was aware of his every touch now.

A gasp of shock broke her sobs when his fingers ceased their rhythmic caressing and she felt his mouth upon her. Shock held her rigid for a moment, then she jerked her hips from side to side, but he only slid his hands under her and lifted her upward. His tongue flicked over her lightly, tentatively, gently tugging, possessing her.

She lay stiff and unyielding, her body and mind outraged, when suddenly an intense sensation, an almost painful searing, exploded in her loins. Her mind plummeted and merged with the feeling, consuming her with its strength. The searing sensation faded, leaving her weak and uncertain of what had happened. She tensed every muscle and held her breath. But his mouth was burning her, white-hot and deep.

Julien’s face rose sharply in her mind. Dear God, she was betraying him. Her body was responding and she couldn’t stop it, couldn’t even slow it now, for the man knew, he knew exactly what to do and how to do it. She didn’t know him, couldn’t see him, yet his hands and his mouth were becoming part of her.

All the words her father had screamed at her were true. She was a slut, a whore. Dear God, she was no better than Julien’s lustful mistresses.

She felt the sensation building again, fanning throughout her body. Her mind screamed for him to stop, but only low, feverish moans came from her mouth. Frenzied waves of the exquisite inflaming pleasure swept through her body. Somehow, in the distant recesses of her mind, she felt that if he were to stop, she would die. She lost her will to fight him and strained her hips upward toward his mouth, urging him, becoming one with him. She trembled uncontrollably as shock after shock of ecstatic pleasure shot down her legs and up into her belly.

Slowly the waves of pleasure lessened, and a soft glow of warmth spread through her body, leaving her weak and shaking. The man’s mouth left her.

Julien shifted his position and lay his full length beside her, his hands now moving over her belly and breasts more urgently. He couldn’t wait longer, he had to have her now. He’d brought her to pleasure, despite her struggles, and he knew she’d fought him with everything in her. Yet he’d brought her to the edge and eased her over it, and it was because he knew her, knew she was part of him even though she’d denied it. Perhaps even her body recognized him. He wanted to believe it so. Ah, but he couldn’t wait.

He straightened over her and gently parted her. She gave a cry of surprise as he slowly entered her. Blood pounded in his temples, yet he knew he must control himself, for she was a virgin and he didn’t want to hurt her. She was soft and yielding, her body still shivering from the small aftershocks of the release he’d given her. No, he had to be controlled, go slowly. He pushed deeper into her, feeling for her maidenhead.