The raw emotion laid bare in her words and in her look was enough to send him over the edge, but he refused to allow himself to ruin this, her first taste of passion. He paused in his movements, sipping at the tips of her br**sts and returning his hand to the hard, straining nub at the core of her. He rubbed a slow circle there, watching as pleasure flared in her eyes at the caress. “Callie…” he whispered, “I am going to hurt you. I cannot prevent it.”
“I know.” The words were breathless. “I don’t care.”
He kissed her then, his tongue slow and seeking, stroking the soft skin as though they had all the time in the world. “I care,” he whispered, his thumb stroking faster against her, causing her hips to rock against him in a rhythm that set them both aflame. “But I shall make it up to you.”
He rocked against her, gritting his teeth against the sublime pleasure he felt as he moved carefully, inch by slow inch, traveling slightly deeper on each smooth thrust, then pulling out completely, giving her time to adjust to him.
And then, when she was writhing in pleasure, he pulled back and thrust to the hilt, the hard length of him stretching the untried flesh at the heart of her. She sucked in a deep breath at the pain, and he stilled above her, the muscles of his arms and shoulders and neck coiled with rigid tension. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, raining kisses along her cheek to her ear.
She turned to meet his gaze with a small smile. “No…it’s not…it isn’t bad.” She cocked her head, as though considering the sensations within her. “Is that it?”
He gave a little, strained laugh at the innocent question. “That’s not even close to being it.”
“Oh.” She moved against him, and it was his turn to gasp. “Oh…that’s quite…” She moved again and he stilled her hips with a strong hand, unwilling to trust himself if she continued her rolling motions.
“Indeed,” he said, suckling the tip of one breast idly. “It is. Quite.”
He retreated almost entirely from her passage and thrust again, a smooth, long movement that chased away the residual pain and replaced it with a spark of pleasure. “Oh…yes.”
“Yes?” he teased, repeating the movement.
This time she met his thrust with her own and sighed. “Yes,” she agreed.
“My sentiments, exactly,” he said, and began to move rhythmically in deep, smooth strokes designed to drive them both wild. After several long moments of his rich caresses, Callie began to move beneath him, canting her hips to increase the pressure of his thrusts.
Ralston shifted to accommodate her body’s request, increasing his speed and force. Clenching his teeth against the pleasure of her body, so tight and hot around him. Callie began to cry out, little mewling cries of pleasure that made him wild, so real and honest was her passion. Never in his life had he wanted to find his release so badly; never had he so desperately wanted to hang on, to give his partner the pleasure she deserved.
“Gabriel,” she keened, “I need—”
“I know,” he breathed against her ear, “I know what you need. Take it.”
“I can’t—”
“Yes, you can.”
And then he placed his thumb at the core of her once more, pressing and stroking while he thrust deep and fast, and the combination of sensations was too much. The tension that had been slowly mounting threatened to spiral out of control, to consume everything in its path, including her thought and sanity. She cried out his name and arched against him, afraid of what was about to happen—unwilling to shy away from it.
He captured her wild gaze with his own. “Look at me, Empress. I want to see you come undone. I want to watch you go over the edge with me.”
“I can’t—I—I don’t know—how.” She thrashed her head from one side to the other, panting out the words.
“We shall discover it together.”
And they did. The coiled tension within her was set free, and she convulsed around him, her muscles tightening around him in a perfect prison, milking him with sweet, unbearable rhythm. She cried out his name, scoring his shoulders with her fingernails as she grabbed hold of him, and he watched her come unraveled.
And then, only then, once she had found her pleasure, did he take his own, calling out as he followed her over the edge with a force he had never before experienced. He collapsed onto her, his chest heaving in unison with her own as he attempted to regain his strength.
He lay there for a long moment, until his breathing stabilized, and he had the wherewithal to lift himself on strong arms and look down at her. Taking in her flushed, pleasure-dampened skin, her sated smile, and heavy-lidded eyes, Ralston was struck by realization.
He’d never experienced anything like this…anything like her. He’d never been with a woman so open and free…never known someone so willing to give and receive and embrace passion with such a powerful will. He’d never known anyone like her. His eyes raked over body, naked and beautiful and bathed in the golden, flickering firelight. She was wrapped around him in every way imaginable, and all he could think of was taking her again. Immediately. Of course, she must be sore…
The thought washed over him like a cold wave.
My God, she’d been a virgin.
What had he been thinking? Virgins deserved better, for God’s sake. Not that he’d ever been in the situation before, but he was certain they deserved poetry and roses and at least a proper bed. Not a chaise longue in a men’s club.
My God. She’d been a virgin and he’d treated her like a common—
He shook his head at the thought, unwilling to allow himself even to finish the sentence in his mind. He was consumed by self-loathing as he considered what he’d done. She’d trusted him. And he’d taken advantage of her. At Brooks’s, for Christsakes. My God. What had he done?
He blanched at the thought.
She noticed. “Is something wrong?”
The words brought him back to the moment, and he found it difficult to meet her eyes. Instead, he placed a gentle kiss on one of her shoulders and sat up, ignoring the sense of loss that coursed through him as he disentangled himself from her warm, willing body.
He began to dress, noting when, after several long moments of watching him, Callie moved to do the same. He tried not to look at her, but found himself unable to resist when she turned to face away from him and pull on her breeches. His palms itched to touch her, to gather her against him and, once more, feel her softness cradling the hard angles of his body. Pulling himself from his reverie, he set to work on his cravat as she pulled on her shirt, forgoing her bindings.
She turned to search for her waistcoat and met his gaze briefly. He could not help but register the sadness in her eyes. She already regretted what they had done.
Leaning down, he lifted the length of linen that she had ignored, running it through his fingers. “Do you need this?”
“No,” she said softly. “Your greatcoat is large enough to hide me…” She paused before adding, “That, and I promised I wouldn’t bind them again.”
The words, along with the erotic power they had carried earlier that evening, echoed between them, reminding him of his unforgivable behavior. She turned away from him as he said, “So you did.”