She bit her lip and nodded.
“Say it, Empress. Tell me.” A second finger joined the first, stretching. Filling.
“I want you.”
“Where?” The fingers thrust in unison, showing her the answer.
“Gabriel…” The word was equal parts plea and protest.
He smiled against her neck. “Where, lovely?”
He was killing her. “Inside me.”
His fingers disappeared and she lifted her hips, the movement protesting his retreat. He placed a line of soft, velvet kisses along her collarbone as he settled between her open thighs, replacing his knowing fingers with the hard length of him—poised at the entrance to her. He took her face in his hands and met her eyes, unwilling to let her hide from him in this supremely intimate moment.
Her breath caught as he pushed just barely inside her, stretching, opening. He stilled, the hardest thing he’d ever done, as the swollen head of him was cradled in her velvet, wet heat. He watched the flicker of sensation in her brown eyes. “Does it hurt?”
She closed her eyes tightly, shaking her head. “No,” she whispered, “Yes. It feels…I want…” she met his gaze, “I want more. I want all of it. I want you. Please.”
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 breasts 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.