Surrender To Me (12 page)

He would have passion and heat from her.

And he would have it now. This very night.

He climbed onto the soft mattress, his knees on either side of her hips.

She blinked several times, her tongue darting out to moisten her lips as she tried to pull herself back with her elbows.

“What are you doing?” her voice trembled on the air.

He squeezed his thighs around her, trapping her beneath him and stopping her from scrambling free.

“I’m going to have you, my little Duchess,” he growled, grabbing her by the back of the neck and hauling her up off the bed, flush against him.

Panic widened her eyes. “You’ll force me?” she sneered.

“There will be no force involved.” He smiled, flexing his fingers along the soft skin of her nape, relishing the crush of her breasts against his chest. “Before we’re through, you will have loved and begged for every moment of it.”

“Arrogant pig,” she hissed. But despite her words, twin flames gleamed at the centers of her eyes and her hips shifted, nudging his hardness, seeking him out even as her words denied him. “We both know that this won’t be—”

His lips crushed hers, intent on silencing her, punishing her, destroying her infuriating attempt at indifference.

Until his lips met hers. Until he tasted their softness, felt their fullness. And quite simply, he was lost. His lips gentled, tongue sweeping inside her mouth, consumed with a need that had nothing to do with punishment…and everything to do with desire.

H
is mouth tasted of man and heat and heather-kissed winds. Hunger surged inside her, dark and dangerous, ravenous as a beast released to prowl the woods. It had been so long since she felt the warmth of another. Perhaps never.

Astrid clenched her hands and shoved them between their bodies, trying to wedge the two of them apart, resisting the overwhelming temptation to flatten her palms against his hard chest and feel him, savor the hard press of muscles surrounding her.

She willed her lips to still, willed her body not to respond to the magic of his mouth on hers, coaxing forth feelings and emotions long denied. New feelings. Terrifying, exciting feelings she had been so careful to stifle. Freed from a dark well, they spiraled through her like warmed wine, dizzying, exhilarating, emboldening her as nothing before. A strange, intoxicating elixir she could not resist.

His hands slid into her hair, scattering the remaining pins. Her scalp tingled beneath his hands. Her fingers trembled between them, yearning to unfold, to caress and explore his pulsing warmth.

With a strangled sob, she let all her resistance slide away and parted her mouth, meeting the slick glide of his tongue with her own.

Opening her hands, she clenched fistfuls of his vest and returned his kiss with wild fervor, pulling him down over her, sinking back into the soft bed.

He growled low in his throat, dragging his mouth over her jaw and down her throat. Astrid opened her eyes and shut them again, afraid that she would wake from this dream.

His fingers moved to the tiny buttons at the front of her gown. His hands fumbled, shaking over the small buttons.

“Damn buttons,” he muttered, his voice strangely hoarse.

She set to work on his clothing, shoving the vest off his shoulders and pulling the shirt over his head.

His hands trembled over each button as she leaned up and rained kisses over his jaw, neck, and chest, skimming her palms over his hard chest, scraping her nails through the short crisp hair, stopping to trace the small dusky circles of his nipples.

He moaned. Because he reached the end of her buttons and could now shove her dress to her waist or because of her hands and mouth on his chest she could not be certain. Nor did she care. He made quick work of stripping her free of her dress, the feverish movements of his hands exciting her only more. Her undergarments followed, the cambric a flash of white on the air, doves flying over their heads.

Naked beside him, not a moment of shame or hesitation seized her. It was as if she were someone else entirely, someone unafraid, someone willing to trust, to give herself over to another. To him.

His hand roved her thighs, callused fingers and palms rasping her tender flesh. His blue eyes shone darkly in the firelight as he stared down at her.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, and she believed it, believed she was, believed he meant it. Not too thin, not too pale, not too strange with her liquid-dark eyes and fair hair. Not herself at all.

Propping herself up on her elbows, her hands reached for him. He watched her, eyes burning, his large body unmoving, still as stone as she unfastened his breeches and shoved them down his narrow hips.

Head cocked to the side, she studied that part of him for a long moment, biting her lower lip as an unfamiliar heat swirled through her, pooling low in her stomach. Her belly contracted and she fidgeted restlessly in attempt to ease the throbbing ache between her legs. Her hand reached out and touched him with a single finger, something she had never done before, never wanted to do.

A tremor rushed over him as she wrapped her fingers around the hard length of him, luxuriating in the feel of him, silk on steel in her hand. Encouraged by the sound of his rough approving growl, she stroked him, her fingers gliding over his length, her breath increasing, matching the harsh sound of his.

He swallowed visibly, his throat muscles working.

Excited beyond endurance, every nerve in her body screaming with a desperate urgency, she parted her legs, leaving herself exposed to his searing gaze. Cool air rushed over her, caressing that most vulnerable part of her.

One hand still holding his throbbing member, the other clutching the counterpane, she urged him closer, thumb rolling leisurely over the velvet tip of him, eyes never moving from the taut lines of his face.

A bead of moisture rose up to kiss her thumb and want twisted deep inside her. She rubbed the evidence of his desire over him.

Guided by her hand, his body came closer, beautiful and glistening in the firelight, his hips widening the gap between her thighs.

Squeezing his pulsing length in her hand, she teased him at her opening, nudging him against her, watching hungrily as his eyes dilated with desire. His chest lifted on a ragged breath as she traced the head of him over her folds, rubbing him in her moistness, tormenting herself—tormenting them both.

“God,” he gasped, eyes burning blue fire as he bucked against her hand, trying to bury himself inside her.

She smiled coyly and shook her head.

“What are you doing to me?” he groaned.

Making it last. Making it so good and so perfect that it would be enough. Enough for a lifetime.

Unable to stop herself, or the siren that she had become, a siren that she never knew she could be, she bent forward and tasted him, savoring him with a single, deep lick of tongue.

He shuddered, his hand diving into her hair, tangling in the loosened strands, gripping her head as she took the head of him in her mouth.

Her gaze flicked upward, relishing the sight of his head flung back, the tendons in his neck stretched taut, the muscles in his chest strained tight with tension. Urged by some dark, unknown part of herself, she devoured him, loved him with her mouth, fueling her arousal as she wrenched groans and cries from deep within him.

Leaning back, she released him, beyond teasing, beyond delaying the desire that had turned her into a wanton creature.

Falling back on her elbows, she met his gaze. “Take me,” she whispered.

He came over her, his arms falling on each side of her, caging her in. His gaze held hers, dark and dangerous, feral as a jungle cat cornering its prey. He prodded her opening with his hard heat.

Legs wide, she lifted her hips to meet his first thrust, ready for it, taking him in as deeply as she could, crying out and arching beneath the invasion that stretched her, filled her to capacity.

Leaning forward, her hands clawed down his back, seizing the tight mounds of his buttocks, urging him on, needing the ferocity of this union, the sense of coming apart inside herself from his each and every thrust.

He dragged his mouth down her throat to her shoulder in a blistering trail.

“Harder,” she gasped in his ear and he increased his thrusts.

In answer, he plunged fiercely, burying her deeper into the soft bed.

She moved beneath him, desperate for more, for all, for an end to the torment, an end to the aching emptiness…for him to never stop…never leave her.

“Astrid,” he gasped, biting down on her shoulder.

She arched beneath him, breasts pressed into his sweat-slick chest, his crisp hair against her nipples incredibly erotic. He followed his bite with a kiss to the bruised flesh, his tongue licking and laving, sliding upward, over the column of her throat.

She let go then, surrendered, muscles squeezing and tightening in a blinding flash of pleasure and pain.

Her vision grayed at the edges and she wondered if she had perhaps died, the feelings rippling through her too great, too powerful, too…much, reminding her with startling suddenness why she hid from such tumultuous emotions.

Her muscles relaxed, body liquefying into a puddle as he moved a final time inside her, the heat of him pouring into her.

She lay utterly still for a moment, her legs spread wide beneath him, his large body heavy and sticky atop her, his member still twitching inside her.

As the pleasure ebbed, so did the feelings, the emotions she had allowed herself to feel. Like water spilling from a cup, they poured from her, fleeing from the hidden depths of her soul.

Slowly, Astrid returned to herself. She looked down at herself, at his dark head resting against her shoulder. One bare breast peeked out from beneath him, gleaming golden in the glow of the fire.

Her legs, spread widely, indecently, appeared to belong to someone else, some other wanton creature of the night that permitted emotions to tumble from her as easily as her clothes.
Someone like her mother
.

Damnable tears pricked her eyes. It had come to pass. Just as her father said it would. She had become as capricious as her mother. An amoral creature that succumbed to passion and emotion without a shred of sense or dignity. Without a thought to the obligations weighing on her.

No
. She would not be that person. Would not become her. One fall from grace did not constitute a total lack of control or loss of responsibility.

Her knees trembled slightly, shaking at the effort to stay upright. The slopes of her thighs glistened with a fine sheen of perspiration, the muscles beneath the flesh quivering. Unable to hold them up, she let her legs slide down, the bottoms of her feet gliding over the furred coverlet.

He stirred against her—in her—and lifted his dark head. Staring at her, his lids heavy over the light blue pools of his eyes, a familiar lick of heat twisted inside her belly.

“You’re incredible,” he murmured, rising on his elbows over her.

His words caused a deep pang near her heart and she blinked tightly, willing the hurt away.

His fingers combed the hair from her shoulders. His chest lifted with a deep inhalation, the crisp hairs tickling her breasts.

“I knew, you know,” he drawled, his voice a rough scrape on the air. “You’re a wildcat. Full of heat and passion. Nothing cold or proper about you.” His beautiful mouth curved in a smile.

Her chest tightened, his words salt in an open wound.

He shifted, easing the weight of his chest off her and sinking his hips deeper against her. Her eyes widened at the deep thrust of him within her. His member stirred, hardening inside her again, coaxing a response. One her body was only too willing to give…even if her mind screamed that she resist.

She shook her head side to side on the fur coverlet and shoved at his chest. It was like pushing at a wall.

“No,” she whispered, her voice a desperate plea. She could not go there again, could not lose herself all over, not so soon. It was disgraceful.

“What?” he rasped, lowering his head and pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the thrumming pulse in her neck as he slid his hard length out of her.

“You don’t want to?” He pushed back inside her and she gasped at the sensation. “Where’s my little hellcat now?” he purred against her throat.

“No,” she whispered, but her body betrayed her, her inner muscles tightening, squeezing him like a glove, pulling him deeper inside her.

He moved again, nearly sliding all the way out, his flesh a hot drag of sensation against her own. Her nails dug into his forearms, her body arching and straining against him as he inched back within her by slow, agonizing degrees.

The friction unbearable, a sob escaped her. Defeated by her own body, her hips rose to take as much of him as she could, mindless from the slow, steady pace he set, wanting it hot and frenzied like moments ago.

Her hands clawed at his chest, nails digging into the supple flesh.

He moved, slipping out of her and rolling onto his back, leaving her empty and aching.

Her head whipped sideways to glare at him in reproach, the core of her throbbing, empty and crying out from the loss.

He cocked an eyebrow. “You said
no
.”

Folding his arms behind his head, he held her gaze, his blue eyes burning like winter fire. “You want it? Take what you want, Astrid.”

She dropped her eyes down to his manhood. It sprang boldly from the nest of hair between his legs, beckoning her. With a bitter curse, she rolled over and mounted him, lodging him deeply inside her, hating him in that moment for filling her so perfectly. For making her seize control, making her claim him so that there could be no confusion, no doubt that she wanted this—wanted
him
. That she was as weak as her mother had been.

Dismissing the unpleasant thought, she sighed with gratification and closed her eyes against the sight of his satisfied smile as she rode him, setting the frenzied pace her body craved, taking herself to that final pinnacle until her body shuddered and stilled atop him.