21
" He learned what made her shudder, what made her sigh. He became so attuned to her that every touch of teeth or lips or fingers offered pleasure.
She writhed in his arms, tangling her legs with his, fighting for air. He trailed one hand across her stomach to the soft curls that hid her sex.
She made a soft sound of desire and arched up.
He slipped his hand between her legs. The merest brush of his fingers in her moisture and she jerked in response. She was so sleek and hot.
Not being inside her was torture. But it was still too soon. Even while she shivered and quaked with reaction.
He found one particular place that made her cry out. He scraped his teeth over a tight nipple and touched her between the legs again.
Her spine bowed and she bit back a scream. A hot flood drenched his fingers. His nostrils flared as the scent of her arousal rose stronger, sharper.
How could she call herself a cold woman? She was living flame. She flickered and burned and glowed and her heat warmed him to the depths of his soul.
"Oh, Matthew," she said on a long sigh, opening herself wider to his hand. "Matthew..."
He loved the way she no longer hesitated over his name. He loved the way she moved restlessly under his seeking fingers as if she wanted more.
Perhaps at last she wanted him.
He rained kisses down her ribs and over her belly and across her thighs. Then he used his hands to nudge her legs further apart.
The flushed, plump folds of her sex were as beautiful as any flower. More beautiful. As with any flower, his impulse was to bury his face in it, to inhale its essence. "
― Anna Campbell , Untouched
24
" His back tightened, then he began to move deeply, surely, possessively. She moaned and lifted herself to meet him as the glorious rhythm reigned.
She was so ready, the friction quickly pushed her over the edge. Without warning, her body convulsed on a sunbright peak. For a small eternity, rapture blasted her, turned the air around her incandescent with pleasure.
She tasted the salt of her tears on her lips. Aftershocks still quivered through her. Tenderly, she ran her hands down his lean hips to knead his firm buttocks. Part of her clung to the ecstasy even as the blaze subsided to a gentle glow.
The physical delight hadn't faded. If anything, it was sharper, deeper, more profound. Matured through suffering and loss and deprivation.
She expected him to finish but he wasn't satisfied yet. Implacably, he tilted her hips and continued to ravish her. Shocked, she realized he hadn't found release in that shivering culmination. She'd been too lost in her own pleasure to register his responses.
Before her last climax subsided, another more shattering crises ripped through her. She raised her hand to her mouth and bit down hard to muffle a scream. Uncontrollable ecstasy gripped her in claws of flame. It was as though the dragons on the doors had breathed their fire into her lover.
Still he didn't relent. Almost roughly, he reached down to stroke the swollen folds between her legs and this time she did scream. She arched up to kiss him using teeth and tongue. Her touch held no tenderness. Although in her heart, she felt an endless lake of tenderness for this man she loved so dearly.
Another wave hit her and she shuddered, blind with the violent onslaught of sensation. Time itself was suspended as she lost herself in ultimate pleasure.
Matthew groaned from deep in his throat as he at last gave himself up. While liquid heat spilled into her womb, she clutched his shaking body.
Slowly, inevitably, she made the dazzling descent from heaven. She closed her eyes and let pleasure ebb through velvety, electric darkness. He lay on top of her, heavy, beloved, welcome. "
― Anna Campbell , Untouched
25
" She squirmed with delight, making him groan. Her wriggling must test him. Some devil made her move again.
"Jesus, Grace," he gritted out. "You try my limits."
"I hope so," she purred. He felt so wonderful inside her. As if he supplied part of her that she only realized now she'd lacked. She bent her knees and tilted her hips so he went deeper. She ran her hands down the tense muscles of his back. He flexed under her touch.
"That felt good," she said breathlessly. "Do it again."
"If I start, I won't stop." his voice was rough.
"Start." She shifted again and felt him shudder.
"Grace," he grated out. He withdrew, then plunged into her. Her nails sank into his back and her womb clenched in welcome.
With deliberate slowness, he set the familiar rhythm.
Except none of this was familiar. Every time he settled in her body, he forged an emotional connection that nothing could sever.
On and on he went. Possession. Release. Possession. Release. Every thrust another link in the chain that bound her to him.
Eventually his inhuman control fractured and he drove into her faster, more wildly. With every thrust, her excitement built. It echoed how she'd felt when he kissed her between the legs. That had been wonderful, astounding.But this was more powerful.
Because he was with her.
He pounded into her as though he meant to crush her. She didn't care. She never wanted this spiraling feeling to end. The storm swirled her higher and higher.
Ecstasy poised her on a knife edge. She cried out and rose to meet him. He changed the angle of his penetration and went even deeper. The pleasure edged close to pain. She tensed as he pressed hard inside her. Then her womb opened and she took all of him. Her inner muscles convulsed into spasms of delight and she screamed.
Violent rapture flung her against the doors of heaven itself. She was lost in a hot, dark world where nothing existed except Matthew. All she could do was hold him and prayed she survived.
Through the tempest that blasted her, he reached his climax. He groaned and convulsed in her arms. For this moment, he was unequivocally hers and she reveled in the possession. "
― Anna Campbell , Untouched
