The Arrow by Monica McCarty
The same hardness she’d been holding in her hands was between her legs now, and she lifted her hips against him, needing him closer to the part of her that fluttered wildly with need.
The kiss spun out of control, growing hotter … deeper … wetter. The determined, demanding strokes becoming less precise and more wild. His hands moved over her body, hot and possessive, claiming her with every touch and caress.
He cupped her breast, rubbing his thumb over the tip until it was taut with need. She wanted to cry out when he broke the kiss—perhaps she even did—but the disappointment lasted only long enough for him to lower his head.
Oh God, his mouth! His hot, wet, wonderful mouth was on her breast. Pleasure shot through her in a bolt of pure molten fire when his lips covered the throbbing nipple. Even through the thin layer of linen of her chemise, the heat and dampness assailed her. Unconsciously, she arched into the gentle pull of his mouth, begging for more, a silent request he was only too eager to answer.
Somehow he’d managed to loosen the ties of her chemise. Barely was she aware of cool air on her fevered skin—her fevered bare skin—however, before he took her in his mouth, sucking and circling her with his tongue, until she cried out with pleasure so acute, her body seemed to shake with it.
“God, you are beautiful,” he murmured, his warm breath making her damp skin prickle. “So responsive.” He flicked her with his tongue, then tugged the turgid flesh gently between his teeth, until she moaned. “Do you like that?”
She might have glared at him, knowing he was teasing her. Of course she liked it. She loved it, and didn’t want him to stop.
But as their eyes met, she suddenly became aware of her naked flesh between them and flushed. It seemed such a small amount of naked flesh compared to what he was no doubt used to.
She must have given away her thoughts; his face darkened. “You have nothing to be embarrassed about, Cate. You are exquisite.” He covered her with his hand, and the look of rapture that came over his face as he groaned gave her no room to doubt him. “Perfect. So round and firm.” He squeezed gently. “With just enough to fill my hand. And nipples as rosy red and tight as pearls.” He smoothed the hard tip with his thumb. “I could look at you forever.”
Forever. Her heart squeezed with longing. It was just a turn of phrase, she told herself, but why when she looked into his eyes did it seem to mean something?
Gregor meant every word. When he looked at her like this—her dark hair spread out on the pillow behind her, her skin flushed, her eyes heavy, her mouth bruised from his kiss, the taut, round curve of creamy flesh bared to his gaze—it wasn’t just lust that came over him, although that was undeniably part of it. It was something far bigger and more powerful, a surge of emotion he’d never experienced before. It squeezed his heart, tightened his throat, and filled his chest with a heavy warmth. It was a feeling of utter rightness and happiness, which, given what he was doing, was ironic.
But he wasn’t going to think of that. He knew exactly what he was doing, and what it meant. He wasn’t going to second-guess his decision now. Although admittedly, it hadn’t been much of decision. It wasn’t the first time a woman had tried to change his mind by putting her hands on him. But it was the first time it had worked.
Christ, when Cate had slid her hand down his bare stomach, coming to rest inches from the throbbing head of his erection, he would have given her anything she wanted to make her go lower. The knowledge that her hand was so close to his cock had made him so hot he thought he was going to explode. He nearly did, when she finally put her hand where he wanted it.
It had been one of the most sensual, erotic moments of his life, and looking into her eyes, so wide, guileless, and full of her unabashed love for him, nothing had ever felt more right.
She belonged to him, and he would have her—whatever the cost, it would be worth it.
Just looking at her was worth it. She was so damned lovely it took his breath away. He wanted to get down on his knees and worship every inch of her—preferably with his mouth and tongue. And he would. Next time. But right now, just the sight of one small breast that fit snugly in the palm of his hand and the turgid pink nipple was too much for him to take.
Where the hell was all that experience he was famous for?
She was a virgin. And not that he didn’t appreciate that fact—he did—but making it good for her wasn’t going to be easy, especially when just kissing her turned him into some kind of clumsy, ham-fisted squire who had only one thought on his mind.
It was a good thought, though. A really good thought.
Slow down, damn it. Pull it together.
Taking her nipple in his mouth again, he plied it between his teeth, tugging gently, and sucking until she’d forgotten all about modesty and was writhing shamelessly—wantonly, God help him—underneath him. Just the way he liked it. Her body crying out for the pleasure he was about to give her.
She was so primed, so responsive, he knew he could make her shatter just by sucking and teasing her breasts, but he wanted to feel that first shudder of pleasure. He wanted to see her face as she broke apart under him.
Slipping his hand under the edge of her chemise, he slid the back of his finger up her thigh, edging closer to the sweet cleft of her womanhood.
She didn’t seem to notice until his hand had slipped between her legs, and then she stiffened for a moment. But only a moment. The second his finger brushed the silken folds, she shuddered and moaned.
Wet. So warm and wet. He gritted his teeth against the violent surge of his own need pressing hard at the base of his spine.
Swearing silently, he knew that whatever control he’d managed to find was quickly slipping away.
He concentrated on her face, watching the shock, and then the pleasure unfurl like a pink rose on her cheeks as he brushed over her. Gently at first, letting her get used to the sensations taking hold of her body.
He gave her breast one last long suck and then released it as his finger slipped inside. Mimicking what he was doing between her legs, he flicked his tongue out over her nipple, circled and stroked. Teasing her with soft breaths of warm air against the damp skin until her back was arching and her hips were lifting in silent plea for release.
She was so damned beautiful, his need for her so intense, he couldn’t tease it out any longer. Keeping his eyes on her face, he sucked her breast hard and caressed that sensitive spot with his thumb as he pressed the heel of his hand against her and gave her that friction she needed.
She gasped. Stilled. And broke apart with the sweetest cry he’d ever heard. Her face went soft and dreamy with euphoria as her body shuddered and contracted. He felt the heat, the rush of dampness, and every spasm of the pleasure that claimed her.
It was almost perfect. Next time it would be, because next time he would be inside her. In about two seconds, as that was about as long as he could wait.
Cate felt like she had died and gone to heaven. Surely that was what it must feel like to float among the clouds. Well, perhaps not float. Shoot, soar, and tumble was probably more accurate.
Her body was still tingling when her gaze cleared enough to see him propped over her. His face was strained and tortured in the shadows. She wanted to wrap her arms around him and kiss him, but she didn’t have any bones left.
The warmth of his hand left her body as he started to work the ties of his braies.
Curiosity perked her up a little, as she looked down just in time to see him free himself. Good God! She flicked her tongue nervously over her lip as she took in the thick column of flesh that seemed even bigger and more powerful than when she’d been holding him. It might have been carved from marble, it was just as shiny, polished, and perfectly formed as the rest of him.
He made a tortured sound low in his throat. “Keep looking at me like that, sweetheart, and this is going to be over before it has started.”
She didn’t know what he meant, but it sounded like she was doing something right. “Do you
He bit out a laugh, mumbled something like “hell yes,” and then looked at her with that bone-melting, knee-weakening smile of his that had probably felled more hearts than she wanted to think about—including her own—and answered simply, “Aye.”
A wicked and, she suspected, very cat-like gleam came to her eye. “You liked it when I touched you also, didn’t you? Can I do it again?”
He swore, and seemingly incapable of saying anything else, he nodded. She wrapped her hand around him, momentarily shocked by the warmth and velvety softness, which seemed impossible given how hard he was. He was like marble all right, with a thin, velvety layer on top. But hot marble with a life beating underneath.
“Does it hurt?”
“God, no.”
The muscles in his stomach and arms holding him over her tensed as she started to explore his length, tentatively at first and then with growing boldness as his increasingly strained growls of pleasure encouraged her. She wanted to grip him, so she did, and the results were rather spectacular. His expression transformed into something so rapturous, she felt like a goddess.
After moving her hand up and down a few times the way he’d shown her how to do before, however, she felt his hand clamp down on hers.
“No more.” His jaw was clenched, his gaze was distant yet his eyes were full of concentration, and every muscle of his body seemed drawn up tight like he was fighting some kind of secret battle.
She pulled her hand away. “Did I do something wrong?”
His gaze met hers. “What you are doing is perfect. But I want to make this last, and if you keep doing that, I’m not going to be able to do that.”
She didn’t know what he meant, but the admission made her heart swell and her body go soft all over. She smiled, reached up, circled her hands around his neck, and dragged his mouth down to hers.
It was as if a dam had burst. All the passion he’d been holding back as he brought her pleasure came rushing out in a torrent of raw need. His body came down hard on top of hers. Instinctively, she wrapped her legs around his as he settled himself between her legs and kissed her.
It seemed the most natural thing to have him on top of her. To have their bodies stretched together, legs twined, chest to chest, hip to hip. To have the thick, solid weight of him wedged between her thighs.
Good lord, he felt good. Everything felt good.
The sensations built again. Faster and hotter this time, as she now knew where it was leading. He was kissing her so perfectly, with long, deep strokes of his tongue that beckoned to a primitive place inside her. Her hips started to lift and circle against him. Her body started to tingle. The need for friction and pressure grew at a frenzied pace. She grabbed hold of his shoulders as if he were a rock to anchor her in the storm building around her.
But he pulled her back before she broke apart again. “Not yet. I want to be inside you this time.”
Her chemise was twisted around her legs, and it took him a moment to find the edge to lift it.
“This damned thing is in my way.” He gave her a boyishly impatient look. “Next time it’s coming off.”
Despite the blush that rose to her cheeks at the thought of being naked in front of him, she couldn’t help but smile. Next time.
Positioning himself between her legs, his eyes held hers. She couldn’t have spoken if she wanted to. The emotion of the moment had not only swelled her heart, it had also swelled her throat.
She’d dreamed about this for so long, but never had she imagined it would be so perfect.
“It might hurt a little,” he warned.
But the warning was lost in the storm of sensation that followed, as the thick head of his manhood started to nudge inside her with a gentle rocking motion of his hips. He moved like a dream. It felt like a dream. The connection was everything she’d imagined and more. She felt possessed. Claimed. Filled. Bound to him in a primitive way that could never be undone.
But it wasn’t without some discomfort.
“God, you feel so good,” he said tightly, his gaze once again filled with intense concentration. He was being gentle with her—patient—and clearly it wasn’t easy for him.
“Good” wasn’t the word she would use. He felt … big. As in “perhaps he was the wrong size for her” big. She tensed as her body struggled to take him in.
“Almost there, sweetheart. God, I’m sorry …”
She didn’t need to ask for what. He held her gaze and gave one last determined push. She gasped, not only at the sensation of him seated fully inside her, but at the sharpness of the pinch.
Hurt a little? Her body screeched at the invasion.
But not for long. He started to kiss her again, murmuring all these sweet things against her mouth and near her ear—which tickled and made her shiver at the same time—about how he was sorry, how it would go away, and how he was going to make her feel good—really good.
He was right.
After a few minutes she forgot about the pain, and no longer felt like a wall that had had its defenses breached with a battering ram. The tension eased with his tender kisses and words, and discomfort was replaced by something else—arousal. A small flutter at first, and then a much larger one as he started to move. Slow and easy in the beginning, getting her used to the motion, and then a little harder and deeper.
He was kissing her still, his body sliding over hers with each stroke. The feel of all that radiating masculine power, all that strength, moving over her—inside her—was incredible. It made her want to move with him.
Which she did. Much, apparently, to his approval. Aye, she could hear the sounds of just how much he liked it with every thrust of his hips, marked by a fierce grunt that sent a wicked shiver of pleasure slithering down her spine.
She’d expected the intimacy and connection—though hadn’t realized the intensity—but she’d never realized how physical lovemaking would be. Not unlike the training she did in the yard. The more of her body she put into it, the better it felt.
He was working hard, too. His body was warm and slick with exertion—and getting warmer and slicker by the minute. Surprisingly, she liked it. She liked feeling his muscles bunch under her hands as he thrust into her, she liked bracing herself to absorb the impact, and she liked feeling the fiery heat of his passion under her fingertips.
He even smelled good. Of course he did, she thought with a smile. Even sweat smelled clean on Gregor MacGregor. The heat only seemed to enhance the subtle masculine spice of his skin. It made her want to press her nose against him and inhale, letting the arousing scent pour over her.
He looked so dark and fierce, and so incredibly gorgeous, that when their eyes met—and held—her heart squeezed with so much happiness, the poignancy was so sharp and intense it was almost painful.
He was beautiful, what he was doing to her was beautiful, and she loved him so much it hurt.
He must have recognized the look because his gaze softened.
“Are you all right?”
She smiled. “Better than all right. It feels amazing.”
“Just wait,” he said with a slow smile. “It’s about to get even better.”
She knew he was a man she could rely on. He was good to his word.
He slowed his thrusts, moving his hips in a long, circular stroke that started out slow and easy, and then went faster and deeper, making her moan every time their bodies came together and sending a fresh wave of sensation tingling between her legs.
God, he was incredible. His body was like an instrument of pleasure, every move, every stroke, calculated to hit the perfect note.
He knew exactly how to bring her pleasure, and he did—almost more than she could take. She could hear the music building in her ears. The beating of her heart, the quickening of her breath, the echo of their moans as they pounded together toward the final beat. Toward one spectacular crescendo.
“Oh God!” he bit out between gritted teeth.
Their
When the sensation finally ebbed, it was as if every ounce of energy and emotion had been wrung out of her. Spent and exhausted, Cate curled herself into the warmth of his body and like a well-fed, contented cat, promptly fell asleep.
It took Gregor a moment to realize where he was. The last thing he remembered before closing his eyes was thinking how ironic it was that the first time he actually wouldn’t mind hearing how wonderful (explosive, mind-blowing, and earth-shattering also seemed appropriate) their lovemaking had been, the lass snuggled up against him had fallen into the sleep of the dead. When he opened his eyes in the cool, dark chamber, the warm presence at his side was gone.
Where the hell did she go? He looked around in confusion and disbelief, followed quickly by irritation. Bloody hell, didn’t she know it was rude to slip out of bed and run away without saying something first? Something like “Thanks for the most incredible night of my life, Gregor,” or “You were amazing, Gregor,” or “I love you, Gregor.” Aye, especially that. He rather thought he would like to hear it again, especially when he was feeling so contented. Nay, not contented, happy. Maybe happier than he’d ever been in his life.
Making love to Cate had been every bit as incredible as he’d thought it would be physically, but it had gone beyond that. Far beyond that, taking him to a place he’d never been before. A place where he’d like to be holding her in his arms right now!
Minutes passed—at least twenty of them. Bloody hell, where was she? If anyone should be sneaking away in the darkness, it should be him. This was her room, damn it!
He’d tossed off the bedsheets and was starting to look around the floor for his braies when the door opened. He straightened and turned, seeing the object of his irritation shadowed in the doorway, frozen in her tracks. She seemed surprised, but he wasn’t sure whether it was at seeing him awake or the fact that he was standing naked in her room.