mattress. When she slid her hand between his legs, he groaned and hardened right in her palm.
'I need you in me,' she said roughly. 'If not your blood, then your sex. In me.
She kissed him again and as his tongue shot into her mouth she knew she had him. And oh, he was so good. He rolled her over and swept his hand from her neck to her breasts, then followed the path with his lips. When he got to the bodice of her gown, he stopped and his face grew hard again. With a savage movement, he gripped the silk and ripped the front of the dress clean apart. And he didn't stop at the waist. He kept going, his big hands and veined forearms working as he tore the satin right down the middle, all the way to the hem of the skirt.
'Take it off,' he demanded.
She stripped the remnants from her shoulders, and when she lifted her hips, he yanked the dress out from under her, wadded it up, and pitched it across the room.
Eyes fierce, he came back at her, shoved her slip up, and spread her thighs. Looking at her over her body, his voice raw, he said, 'Never wear that thing again.'
As she nodded, he pushed her panties to the side and put his mouth right on her core. The orgasm he gave her was a claim staked, a mate's marking, and he made her ride it out until she was limp and shaking.
Then he tenderly eased her legs back together. Though she was the one who'd had the release, he was so much more relaxed as he prowled up her body. In a daze from what he'd done to her, she was weak and unresisting as he stripped her naked and then got up and took off his boxers.
As she looked at the size of him and realized what was coming next, fear tickled the edges of her consciousness. But she was too blissed out to care much.
He was all male animal as he got back on the bed, his sex hard and thick, ready to penetrate. She opened her legs for him, except he lay beside her, not on top of her.
Now he went slowly. He kissed her slow and sweet, his broad hand traveling to her breasts, touching her with care. Breathless, she curled her hands on to his shoulders and felt the muscles under his warm and supple skin bunching up, as he stroked her hips, her thighs.
When he touched her between her legs, he was tender and unhurried, and it was a while before one of his fingers went inside of her. He stopped just as a strange internal tugging made her frown and move her hips back.
'Do you know what to expect?' he asked against her breast, his voice soft, low.
'Um… yes. I suppose.' But they she thought of the size of his erection. How in God's name was it going to fit?
'I'll be as gentle as I can, but this… is going to hurt you. I had hoped maybe—'
'I know that's a part of it.' She'd heard that there was a slight twinge involved, but then a wondrous ecstasy. 'I'm ready.'
He took back his hand and rolled on top of her, his body easing in between her legs.
Abruptly, everything came into sharp focus: the feel of his hot skin and the compression of his weight and the power in his muscles… and the pillow under her head and the mattress she was on and exactly how far her thighs were spread. She looked up at the ceiling. A swing of lights moved around above them as if a car had just pulled up in the courtyard.
She went tense; she couldn't help it. Even though it was Butch and she loved him, the threat of the experience, the overwhelming nature of it, swamped her. Three hundred years and it had suddenly come down to here and now.
For some stupid reason, tears welled.
'Baby, we really don't have to do this.' His thumbs wiped her cheeks and his hips pulled back as if he was going to get off.
'I don't want to stop.' She grabbed on to the small of his back. 'No—Butch, wait. I want this. I truly do.'
He closed his eyes. Then dropped his head into her neck and worked his arms so they were all the way around her. Twisting to the side, he hugged her into his hard body and they stayed like that for a long time, his weight positioned so she could breathe, his arousal a hot, branding length on her thigh. She began to wonder if he was going to do anything at all.
Just as she was about to ask, he shifted and his hips fell solidly between her legs again.
He kissed her, a deep, drugging full-mouth seduction that got her burning until she was undulating under him, rubbing against his hips, trying to get closer to him.
And then it happened. He moved over a little to the left, and she felt his erection at her core, all hard and smooth. There was a broad, satin stroke and then some pressure. She went still, thinking about exactly what was pushing at her and where it wanted to go.
Butch swallowed hard enough for her to hear it and sweat broke out across his shoulders until it ran down his spine. As the pressure between her legs intensified, his breathing deepened until he was groaning on every exhale. When she winced in earnest, he abruptly backed off.
'What's wrong?' she asked.
'You're very tight.'
'Well, you're very big.'
He laughed in a burst. 'Nicest things… you say the nicest things.'
'Are you stopping?'
'Not unless you want me to.'
When there wasn't any «no» coming from her, his body tensed up and the head of him found her entrance once again. His hand came up next to her face and he tucked her hair behind her ear.
'If you can, try and relax, Marissa. It'll go easier for you.' He started a rocking motion, his hips easing into hers and retreating, a gentle to and fro. Except each time he tried to nudge in a fraction, her body resisted.
'You okay?' he said through gritted teeth.
She nodded even though she trembled. It all felt so strange, especially as they weren't making any real progress—
With a sudden slide he was in, slipping past some outer muscle until he came up against the barrier his finger had found. As she stiffened, Butch groaned and dropped his face into the pillow next to her head.
She smiled uneasily, the fullness in her unexpected. 'I—ah, I feel like I should be asking whether you're all right.'
'Are you kidding? I think I'm about to explode.' He swallowed again, a desperate gulping. 'But I hate the idea of hurting you.'
'So let's get that part behind us.'
She felt rather than saw his nod. 'I love you.'
With a quick jerk, he drew back his hips and sliced forward.
The pain was raw and fresh and she gasped, shoving against his shoulders to keep him from moving any farther in. Instinct had her body struggling under his, trying to find a way out or at the very least to get some distance.
Butch lifted his torso off her, and their bellies brushed while they both breathed hard. With his heavy cross swinging between them, she let out a raw curse. The pressure before had been mere discomfort. This wasn't. This hurt.
And she felt so invaded by him, taken over. God, that female chatter she'd overheard about how it was all lock-and-key wonderful, how the first time was magic, how everything was so easy—none of that was true for her.
Panic swelled. What if she really was broken on the inside? Was this the defect the males of the
'Marissa?'
— she couldn't get through it at all? What if every time it hurt like this? Oh, Jesus… Butch was very male and he was very sexual. What if he went looking for other—
'Marissa, look at me.'
She dragged her eyes to his face, but all she could pay attention to was the voice in her head. Oh, Jesus, it wasn't supposed to hurt this badly, was it? Oh, Jesus… she was defective…
