Then, without warning, he touched her… there. She thought that if she made a sound, she would howl. Or weep with joy.
“You’re ready, Cassidy,” Braden said, his voice husky and raw. “Completely ready for me.” He drew his finger through the tight curls that shielded her, down into the cleft where she was most tender. Her senses seemed to burst with delight.
“Oh,” she said. “It’s—” She struggled, but she didn’t know the words to describe what his touch did to her. Her body grew taut as a rope attached to a wild mustang, as fluent as water.
Braden’s hands fumbled between them, and his knees worked her legs apart. She felt a new pressure in her secret place, a column of firm flesh sliding against her thigh.
“Cassidy,” he said hoarsely. “What I’m about to do will hurt, at first. But I can’t stop—”
“I don’t want you to stop.” The moisture between her legs had become a flood, and she felt like a yucca blossom opening its petals to the sun, waiting for the bee to drink her nectar.
His hand found her again. He stroked, sliding between her petals. The heaviness of his breathing shook them both. He was leading her to some place she’d never been—the top of the highest mountain, the shore of the widest river. She pulsed with the rhythm of his heartbeat. Pulsed, and throbbed, and poised for the great leap…
But Braden wasn’t finished. He repositioned himself, pushed down, found her center, and slipped within.
She felt a stretching, and vague discomfort that she hardly noticed. All her senses were focused on one part of her body. He was inside her—not all of him, but enough that she knew how it would be when he went the rest of the way.
This was what Isabelle had tried to tell her about—having a man become part of you. But not just any man. She wanted Braden to possess her completely, now and forever.
She arched up. “Now, Braden,” she gasped. “Come inside me. Now—”
Her invitation was more erotic than the blandishments of the most experienced courtesan. Braden could not have stopped if he tried.
Nor could he hold back. He thrust with one deep stroke, sundering her single barrier to pleasure. Her thighs encircled his hips, and she pushed up into him, urging him on. No discomfort, no fear, only eagerness that was unbearably seductive in its very innocence and absence of shame.
Milena had been an exquisitely practiced lover. Cassidy was blessed with a natural talent that outshone Milena’s a thousand times over.
And he possessed her. He was the first, and the last. He, alone, made himself part of her. With triumphant exaltation he rode her supple young body, driven to the brink of her cries of pleasure. Somehow he held himself back. He arched to suckle her nipples in time to his thrusts, intoxicated by the taste of her, the feel of her, the rich scent of her arousal: the hot core other womanhood tight around him, the hard tips of her breasts, the slender sturdiness of her legs about his waist, and the arms holding him against her.
“Braden,” she gasped. “Something is about to happen—”
“Let it come,” he urged, slowing and deepening each thrust. “Let it take you. Cassidy—”
Her body convulsed beneath him. She cried out in wonder and surprise, her legs drawing him closer.
He couldn’t wait. He didn’t have to. He stiffened, losing all thought in sheer pleasure. With one final thrust, he let himself find release.
When the shuddering ecstasy had passed, he lifted himself away from her. Her hands flexed on his back as if she wanted it all over again.
“That was—” she began. “I… didn’t know—”
He silenced her with a kiss. Her skin was damp, her hair tangled, but he could feel her smile, the heavy-lidded contentment of a woman well pleasured and sated.
And he’d called her a girl, a child. She was so much a woman that he thought he could take her again in a matter of minutes. Already he was stirring.
But his first, violent desire had left him, and he could think clearly again. He rolled her into the curve of his arm, entwining her fingers with his.