Her breath caught on the compliment. Bliss roared at his touch, scorching her, and she arched her spine in supplication. The move begged him for more. He delivered, watching her as he caressed her with gentle strokes, teasing her with each tug and flick. His mouth drifted across her collarbone. Ecstasy sizzled across her skin, shooting straight to her core. As she pulsed deep inside, Cosmina rolled her hips. He met her halfway, then shifted from the edge of the mattress. Hard muscles flexed around her as he picked her up. A quick pivot, and her back touched the sheet. Henrik followed her down, settling a thigh between her legs as he dipped his head. His mouth settled at her breast. Cosmina bucked, arching up, and . . .
Oh gods.
Scorching heat on her skin. A wet stroke over her nipple. Instant, devastating pleasure.
With a groan, he suckled her, each pull gentle and sure, yet somehow rough too.
The throb between her thighs intensified. “Henrik!”
“Hmm, you’re sensitive.” Stroking her with his tongue, he tugged at the lace holding her braes in place. Nestled just below her belly button, the bow let go. The leather tie loosened, widening by the moment, revealing her skin an inch at a time. He nipped the tip of her nipple. Her back arched. Her breath hitched. Suspended in pleasure, she bit down on her bottom lip as his hand slid over her bare belly, then slipped between her legs. Eager for him, she spread her thighs wider. Separating her folds with gentle fingertips, he slid into her heat and groaned against her breast. “Oh God. You’re perfect here too. Gorgeous, iubita. You’re gorgeous. So hot and tight, so slick . . . almost ready to come for me.”
His voice—the deep stroke of it—unraveled her control, leaving her at his mercy. A very nice place to be, particularly since he didn’t have any. Stroking the top of her sex, he drenched her in bliss, pumping the pleasure so high she couldn’t tell where he ended and she began. And all the while he talked to her, whispering naughty things in her ear, praising her with words and—goddess, she enjoyed the sound of him. Loved the way he spoke to her, tone full of enchantment and awe and oh so much need.
Head thrown back, she listened to his voice, yet barely heard him. She was too busy chasing the sensation to pay attention. Illusive and thick, it gripped her body, strumming a chord while he played between her thighs, teasing her with the promise of . . . something. A something she wanted. Now. This instant. Hmm, she was close. So very close, yet still too far away.
“Henrik . . . I cannot . . . I need—”
“To come. I know.” Nipping the underside of her chin, he withdrew. She protested the loss. Kissing her gently, he knelt beside her. Still dressed, knees sinking into the mattress, he fisted his hands in her braes. He tugged. She raised her hips, allowing him to draw the pair down her legs. Chest pumping, gaze riveted to the red curls between her thighs, he tossed her underwear over the side of the bed. “I cannot wait to feel you come.”
“Come?”
“The pleasure I promised you.”
“Is that what I’m chasing?”
“Aye,” he murmured. “Do you want it?”
“Yes.”
“Fast or slow?” he asked, unlacing his leather tunic.
“Which is better?”
“Depends. Both are good, but this time . . . your first time . . . I think I’ll give it to you fast.”
“Fast works.” Was the best, really. An excellent plan in every way. She squirmed against the mattress. “I need—gods, Henrik. Do something.”
He grinned, the quick flash of white teeth all wolf. “With pleasure, my beautiful wanton. I’ll give you all you want . . . everything you need.”
Eyes locked on her, Henrik drew his tunic over his head and sent it flying. As the leather went the way of her braes, he unlaced and shucked his trews. Cosmina’s mouth fell open. By the gods, he was incredible. Long limbs. Hard-bodied. Broad, strong, so beautifully made he stole her breath, then gave it back, kissing her deep, filling her lungs with his scent as he settled solid and warm against her. Opening wide to appease him, she tangled her tongue with his. He groaned. She hummed, welcoming him, cradling him in her arms, stroking her hand down the wide expanse of his back. Raised ridges ghosted against her fingertips and . . .
Scars. Many of them crisscrossing his back. Except . . .
’Twasn’t lash marks made by a whip. ’Twas a pattern. A distinct one rooted in pain and suffering, as though someone had cut into his skin with deliberate precision. The realization startled her, dimming pleasure, raising questions, her concern for him paramount. Backing off a little, she gentled the kiss and skimmed his scars, a silent question in her touch. Cracking his eyes open, he met her gaze.
“Henrik.”
“Nay, Cosmina.” Mouth brushing hers, he shook his head. “No thinking allowed.”
“Later then,” she said, caressing his back, tracing the awful lines carved into his skin. He’d been hurt . . . badly, in the worst way. Someone had done this to him. A someone he despised. She saw the truth in his gaze, felt the sudden tension in his muscles even as he shrugged, denying the abuse without words. Raising her head off the pillow, she brushed her lips against the corner of his. “You know I’ll ask later.”
“But not right now.”
“Not right now,” she whispered, bowing to his wishes, allowing him his way.
Relief sparked a moment before the heat returned to his eyes. Powerful. Enthralling. He devastated her, using his hands and mouth to stroke her into submission. All thought, questions and curiosity included, left her head. Mindless for him, she spread her thighs when he asked, watched him slide down her body and lick his way across her abdomen. Need swirled into an incendiary whirlpool. Bliss rose on a ravenous wave, dragging her under as he kissed the curls atop her mound. She blinked and held her breath. He wasn’t going to . . . couldn’t be planning on—
Mouth hot, he licked into her folds.
“Henrik!”
Using his shoulders, he pressed her knees wider, sank between her thighs, and laved her again. A delicious stroke right where she wanted him. A delicate flick of his tongue to the bud atop her sex. A hard swirl followed by a gentle suck and—oh aye, that was delicious, unlike anything, better than . . . than—good goddess, Cosmina didn’t know. She couldn’t breathe, much less string two thoughts together. Could only listen to her body, heed Henrik and feel . . . everything, all he gave, wave after glorious wave of sensation. Deep in the eddy, pleasure slammed through her, making her toes curl. She keened, throbbing hard, tittering on the edge of something magnificent as he settled in, took his time, and bathed her in delight.
“You like that,” he growled, finding a rhythm, tongue stroking deeper, “don’t you, iubita?”
On the cusp of ecstasy, she didn’t answer. She allowed herself to feel instead, bowing off the bed, moving with him, begging for release. Relief. Anything. All of him, just as long as he made her come. Right now.
“Henrik, please . . . please.”
“Hard and fast,” he said, stroking her again. “Hard and fast, love.”
One hand pressed flat to her abdomen, he lapped at the nubbin atop her sex and slipped one finger inside her. Beautiful withdrawal. Devastating advance. Thrust and retreat. Again and again as he prepared her, stretching her gently. He sent a second finger deep. ’Twas too much, yet not enough. It was incredible, diabolical, the sweetest kind of torture. And as she lost her mind beneath him, he made her work. Made her writhe and fight for each gasp, controlling her so completely she felt nothing but him. Naught but his heat and the shocking pleasure he lavished on her. The advance and retreat, each stroke, every stunning suck and flick, and she undulated, raising her hips, fisting her hands in the sheets, begging without words.