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“But I want to be inside you when you come for me the first time.” He pulled back, despite her attempt to tighten her legs and hold him in place.
“I’ve dreamed of this, cher.” Anticipation filled his voice, his slumberous gaze as he jerked at the laces of his boots and quickly pulled them free.
Licking her lips, Natalie moved as his hands went to his belt. She rose, sat on the side of the bed, and brushed his fingers away.
“I want you now.” She slid the buckle free then went to work on the metal buttons, pulling them free, the hard, thick ridge of his cock making the task difficult at first.
As the material parted, Natalie drew it down to his thighs, left it there, and cupped her palm over the thick flesh hidden only by the cotton briefs he wore.
She heard his breath hiss from between his teeth as she gripped the band of the underwear and drew it slowly over the swollen length of his erection.
Weakness flooded her. Her juices pooled on the ultrasensitive folds of her flesh, and she swore her womb was clenching in trepidation. Because he wasn’t a small man in any way.
“Cher, leave me a little control, eh?” His voice was strained, but his hands were gentle as he brushed the hair back from her face.
“No.” She gripped the hard flesh with both hands and brought it to her parted lips.
He said something. Something foreign, thickly accented, but she didn’t catch it. The blood was thundering in her ears, rushing through her body, and her mouth was surrounding the wide, hot crest of his cock hungrily.
She had dreamed, too. Dreamed of him taking her in this big bed, dreamed of taking him, just like this.
She stared up at him, tasted the heat and male lust, the hunger and the need on his flesh. Sweat gleamed on his chest, ran in small rivulets along it, and added a subtle male fragrance to the air.
It was his eyes that held her though. A green so dark now she wondered if they weren’t closer to black. They glowed in his face, as startling as the wicked white canines that gleamed at the side of his mouth as his lips pulled back in a desperate snarl.
Hard hands were in her hair, twisting in it, tangling in it as she sucked his cock head inside and swirled her tongue over it slowly, tasting him.
He wasn’t watching her in detachment, he wasn’t analyzing her performance, he was enjoying it. Enjoying it to the point that she moaned at the additional pleasure that the expression on his face brought her.
Savage pleasure tightened his expression, pulled his lips back and had growls leaving his throat. It was the most exciting, erotic sight she had known in her life.
“Ah, cher,” his voice whispered over her. “Sweet bébé.”
She sucked him deep, tasting the subtle essence of pre-cum and wild, desperate lust.
She tasted and teased, tempted and tormented until she felt the control she had always sensed inside him break.
Between one second and the next she was pushed to her back, his jeans and briefs discarded, and he was moving purposely between her thighs. The length of his erection was iron-hard, throbbing, the prominent veins ridging the flesh, the engorged head darkened and pulsing in lust.
“Saban, please—” She bit her lip, holding back her words. She wanted to ask him to go easy, to take her slowly at first, but she could see the hunger raging in him, brewing into a storm of lust that darkened his emerald eyes.
“Do you think I would hurt you?” His jaw clenched, his chest heaved as he fought for breath, and the thick head of his cock tucked against the folds of her pussy.
His voice lowered to a primal growl. “Do you think I don’t know, Natalie? That I didn’t feel more than your sweet, slick heat?”
His hips bunched, tightened, pressed forward as his lips lowered, and he lifted her hands to his shoulders. “Hold on to me cher. I’ll take care of you, I promise.”
Small, stretching thrusts did just that. Eased inside her, parting the snug tissue gently, working his cock into her with fiery, delicious strokes that were both pleasure and pain.
Ecstasy whipped through her system, fiery trails of lashing pleasure tore across sensitive nerve endings, and as Natalie stared up at Saban, she saw something she had never seen in her marriage to Mike: shared pleasure. The need to please her as well as to be pleasured.
Saban wasn’t rushing. He wasn’t intent on pushing boundaries as much as he was intent on sharing the burning need, which was more erotic than any boundary she’d ever had pushed.
“What are you doing to me?” It was more than pleasure. With her gaze locked with his, the patience in each thrust, the taut hunger on his face, sweat gleaming and running in slow rivulets down the side of his neck, he was the picture of a sex god at work. But his eyes. Emotions glowed in his eyes, emotions she didn’t want to face, didn’t want to battle, within him or within herself.
“I’m loving you, cher. Whether you want the love or not.” He leaned forward, nipped her lips. “Just loving you, bébé.”
One last thrust, slow and measured, buried him inside her as his lips took hers in a kiss that fired her soul. Her body she could have understood. The heated hormone spilling from his tongue hit her system like a fireball and began speeding through her bloodstream. But her soul? It should have been protected, closed away from any and all male influence.
