The Matchmaker (20 page)

"Yes," she whispered, because she had a peculiar
feeling he had asked her a question, even though she'd
thought it had already been answered.

He hesitated, then said, "Sweetheart, the first time for
a woman... there's pain. I promised I wouldn't hurt
you."

Julia had known too much pain not to be wary of more,
but common sense told her women could hardly have been blessed with desire and cursed in the same breath
with an agonizing consummation of it; God wasn't that
cruel, surely. Still, she couldn't help but ask, "Only the first time?"

He nodded and touched her cheek gently.
"Only the
first time, and only for a moment."

She wouldn't realize it for a long time, but the first
grain of trust for him formed inside her then. She
wanted to believe him, so she trusted he was telling her
the truth, trusted he wouldn't hurt her more than he
could help.

Her arms tightened around his neck, and there was no hesitation in her voice when she said, "I want you, Cyrus."

He made a soft, rough sound, kissing her again and again. He could feel the banked desire inside him flare
up hotly, his entire body burning and throbbing with
need for her, and forced himself to concentrate fiercely on the even greater need to teach Julia the pleasure that was possible between a man and woman.

Love gave him patience; he doubted anything else
could have.

Julia felt one of his hands touching her side, then her stomach, and realized he was unbuttoning her chemise. She was glad he was doing that, because even the thin barrier of sheer cotton was suddenly a torment to her. The primitive desire to lie naked in his arms, such an unfamiliar urge, was so strong in her she didn't try to examine it. She simply obeyed the demands of this incredible need she felt, and stopped thinking at all.

She shifted on the pallet to help him when he
removed her chemise and knickers, gazing at his face as he looked at her, because what she saw in his burning
eyes, an expression almost of wonder, was beautiful in a
new way and caused the heat inside her to run wild.
Instead of cringing inwardly and feeling rawly degraded,
she was aware only of a curious sense of uninhibited delight in the clear evidence that he found nothing at all ugly or revolting about her body.

"Julia... you're so lovely..
.."
His mouth
brushed hers very lightly,
then
trailed down her throat
slowly, and one big hand slid up over her rib cage to
warmly surround her breast.

She gasped, almost jerking at the shock that was both physical and emotional. She had never felt a man's hand
touch her naked breast. But if it was unfamiliar to her mind, her body responded so instantly to the caress, she
could only tremble as a hot wave of pleasure swept over her. His long fingers stroked her flesh, and her breast grew tight and hard as it swelled, throbbing under his
touch. Then his thumb brushed her nipple and she did
jerk, the burst of sensation so acute she didn't know if it
was pleasure or pain.

But whichever it was, her body wanted more of it. She couldn't believe what he was making her feel. His mouth
moved against her throat, the hot darts of his tongue
sending shiver after shiver rippling through her. His
hands caressing her breast, fingers kneading gently and thumb circling her taut nipple rhythmically until it was a sweet, aching torment, until she gritted her teeth to
hold back the frantic sounds she could feel rising up
inside her.

His mouth touched the base of her throat, then moved to her breastbone and slowly, so slowly she was almost
rigid with a breathless suspension, slid up the slope of
her swollen breast. She literally couldn't breathe; all her consciousness was focused on what he was doing, a
wordless, instinctive plea in her mind. When his mouth
finally closed over her aching nipple, she gasped and
moaned raggedly.

Her fingers tangled in his thick, silky hair, her eyes
tightly closed as she helplessly endured the blazing
shock of exquisite sensation. The wet heat of his mouth on her nipple, the burning, tingling pressure of suction, and the swirling caress of his tongue, was a pleasure
beyond anything she had ever imagined.

She hadn't been able to control the wild feelings his touch evoked, but now her entire body seemed a thing apart from her mind, a thing of passion and relentless
need with a life and instincts all its own. It arched against
him, pleading mutely for more, quivering and burning
as his hand and mouth pleasured and tormented her, and husky little sounds welled up in her throat to escape her trembling lips.

Her body wouldn't be still, and the fleeting idea that
her feverish response was somehow shameful had no power to command muscle or flesh. She felt his hand touch her stomach, sliding warmly downward and then curving along her hip to slowly stroke her tense thigh. She had a vague impression her legs had been moving restlessly, but they were taut now, pressing together, and a new kind of urgency was gripping her body. The
heat inside her was spreading, intensifying, and his
touch seemed to guide it to burn hotter in the pulsing
ache of her loins. His strong fingers were at the inside of her thighs now, gently insistent as they eased between them, and she felt her tight muscles suddenly give way
as her legs parted for him.

He made a hoarse sound, his mouth fiercely hungry on her breast, almost frantic, as if the taste of her were
something he couldn't get enough of. If her mind had
been in control of her body, she would have tried to push
him away, because she was burning alive and didn't know how much more she could bear, but she had no choice. Her body wanted more. Then he touched her, his fingers brushing the soft curls covering her mound,
and her eyes flew open as alarm jolted through her.

For a single instant, even her body remembered bewilderment and sick humiliation, but then he was stroking her damp flesh very gently and a shock of pure pleasure burned the memories away. The whimper that
left her seemed to come from deep inside her, an
unfamiliar sound, hoarse and ragged. Her hips were rising mindlessly to his touch, sharp tension winding tighter and tighter in her body until she couldn't breathe except in gasping pants.

Her wide eyes fixed on his face when he lifted his
mouth from her breast, and her nails dug into his
shoulders as her body arched helplessly. "Stop," she whispered, the maddening tension tormenting her.
"Please.
..
I can't..."

He covered her lips with his, and his mouth was so hot and hard it should have burned her or bruised her, but it didn't. She needed that touch too, her mouth opening
to his eagerly to accept the deep thrust of his tongue.
She wanted him to stop, yet she didn't—and he seemed
to know what her desperately striving body needed
most. His intimate caress was insistent, driving her
higher and higher until she was writhing, moaning
wordlessly into his mouth.

Just when she knew it was possible to die from
pleasure because she couldn't bear another instant of it and death had to be the end, the awful tension finally shattered. Her entire body convulsed, rising against him with a shudder, and she cried out wildly as an unbeliev
able ecstasy swept through her. Her body remained
rigid for a long moment, gripped by the pulsing rapture,
and then she went limp, almost sobbing.

Cyrus held her for a few moments, kissing her trem
bling lips and flushed cheeks,
then
drew away from her.
She opened her eyes, so dazed she could hardly think,
watching him as he removed what was left of his
clothing. Was that how it was supposed to be, she wondered dimly, that incredible pleasure? If so, pain would be a small price to pay for it.

She knew it wasn't over. Cyrus had made her feel things she had never imagined; now it was his turn to find satisfaction in her body. She looked at him, her mouth going dry, and tried to squelch her rising fear.

He was starkly masculine. In the yellow lamplight brightened by frequent flashes of lightning, his body
looked even bigger than before, stronger. Muscles rip
pled when he moved, and her gaze clung to his body
with a mixture of fascination and alarm. He was beautiful
the way a blooded stallion was beautiful: powerful,
dominant, graceful, blatantly male, and unmistakably
dangerous. His manhood was swollen erect, huge, and
terror roiled through her as she looked at him.

He'd said there would be pain for her only the first
time, and even though she'd trusted he was telling the
truth, she couldn't help but doubt him now. She had
seen Adrian fully aroused when he used the strap on her,
but Cyrus was a much bigger man—and she just didn't
see how it would be possible for her to take him into her
body.

But when he came back to her on the pallet, she didn't
flinch away from him. Nor did she reach out to him. Adrian had wanted her perfectly still when he lay on her,
and she wasn't sure if she was supposed to do anything at
this point. To her surprise, however, Cyrus didn't
immediately roll on top of her. Instead, he kissed her, and his warm, hard hand surrounded her breast.

Cyrus was holding on to the last threads of his control with all his will. He'd wanted her for so
long,
desire was a throbbing torment now. He had never in his life felt
such an urgent, desperate need. He'd been able to
ignore his own hunger for a while, intent on loving Julia until she understood the difference between lovemaking
and the cruel perversions to which her husband had
subjected her.

But now, as he kissed her and touched her, he felt the
faint stiffness of her body. And when he raised his head
to look down at her, he saw fear shadowing her beautiful
green eyes. It went through him like a knife.

"Don't be afraid, sweetheart," he murmured, kissing her with all the gentleness he could command. "I just
want to love you again, please you. Will you let me do that?"

Confusion flitted across her tense features.
"Again?"
Her soft voice was hesitant. "I thought—I thought you
wanted to take me now."

"When you're ready," Cyrus said huskily.
"When you
want me to take you, my love."

Julia didn't understand what he meant. She was ready now, resigned to the promised pain, braced against it.
But before she could ask him to tell her more, he bent his head, his mouth closing over her nipple, and the banked heat inside her flared to new life.

As badly as his body needed the release it would find
in joining with hers, Cyrus's pleasure in merely touching her was so strong, it was a kind of satisfaction in and of
itself. All his senses delighted in the textures of her
body, the rising heat of her desire, the sweet taste of her,
and the soft sounds she made as he caressed her. Her
response was astonishing, and he was both relieved and intensely exhilarated to know that with all she'd suffered, she was able to desire him.

He'd been worried about that, but now he was sure
Julia could heal from what had been done to her heart
and mind. Once she experienced the full range of a
woman's pleasure and no longer feared a man's desire, the worst would be over, he thought.

So he concentrated fiercely on arousing her now, ignoring the pounding urgency of his own body. The stiffness of fear left her, replaced by the sensual tension of rising passion as she responded to his touch.
Her
breasts swelled, round and flushed in his hands, the delicate pink nipples tight and almost pulsing in his
mouth.
Her hands rose to his neck, restlessly probing,
and her breathing quickened.

Her belly was soft and firm under his touch, muscles
contracting in little spasms of pleasure as he stroked her
skin. The triangle of silky hair at the base of her belly,
burnished copper over her creamy flesh, enticed him almost to the point of madness, and when his fingers explored
gently,
her damp heat drove his feverish desire
impossibly higher.

Cyrus didn't know how much more he could take. Every muscle in his body was so rigid it was quivering with strain, and the fire inside him felt as if it were burning him alive. He caressed her insistently, until she was moving to his touch, her body totally caught up in
the primitive drive toward release.

When he finally lifted his head from her breasts, she was whimpering, and looked at him with wide eyes filled
with instinctive feminine panic.

"Please," she whispered, trying to pull him back down
to her. "Make it stop, please.
.."

Groaning, he gently widened her legs and slipped between them, rising above her. Fighting all the urgent
demands of his body that he bury himself in her, he
moved very carefully, guiding his aching flesh to probe
her wet heat gently.

Julia was so gripped by her body's need that she was barely aware of what he was doing until she felt the blunt
hardness of his manhood seeking entrance. Her mind
was shocked by the starkly intimate touch, but her body
welcomed it and her physical need was far stronger than
thought could ever be. Her awareness shifted, centering
on the slow, burning invasion. She could feel her body
stretching, admitting him, and the sensation was both strange and wildly arousing. There was something an
cient and primitive about the insistent male demand, and everything in her that was female was compelled to surrender to it. She had never felt so vulnerable, or so
aware of the most basic functions of her body.