Men were very simple creatures. They could be easily led and manipulated so a female could garner what she required from them. The trick was to figure out the best method.
Apparently, his cerebral wrangling was over. “You have to promise me you’ll never be sorry.”
“I’m the one who suggested this. Why would I be sorry?”
“You’re seeking something from me that I’ll never be able to furnish. I would hate for you to be disappointed after you accept that I can’t supply what you’re hoping.”
“We should worry more about you than me. I’m clear as to what’s transpiring, but I don’t believe you have any idea.”
He snorted with amusement. “Where you are concerned, I’ve never had any idea of what I’m doing.”
She kissed him again. “Trust me, Jacob. This will make me very happy.”
She stared at him, her gaze steady and firm, and he seemed to see what he was anxious to find. He shifted them so she was on her back and he was stretched out on top of her, and she sighed with delight. There was such naughty joy to be gained by him pressing her down into the mattress, and she reminded herself to pay attention so she’d never forget a single detail.
Still though, he didn’t move to begin, and she asked, “What’s wrong?”
“I’m so nervous. I’d like this to be special for you, but I’m not certain I’m skilled enough.”
“I disagree. You are a randy scoundrel who, I’m positive, has seduced women around the globe. It will be perfect.”
He smirked at that, and he dipped in and initiated his own kiss. It was sultry and delicious and brimming with wicked temptation.
He started playing her anatomy as if it were an instrument, nibbling, touching, caressing. All the while, he was whispering endearments, complimenting her, telling her how much he treasured her, how glad he was that she was his. She decided to share his view of the encounter.
She was his, and he was hers, and in the quiet dawn of her small bedroom, the outside world could never intrude.
Their passion swiftly escalated, their hips flexing together in the ancient carnal rhythm lovers relished. He was sucking on her nipples, stroking her between her legs, and with scant effort, he brought on a wave of pleasure that sent her soaring to the heavens.
As she tumbled down, she was sputtering, laughing, scolding him for being such a dissolute cad. She was putty in his arms, and he could goad her to behave in any shocking way.
He eased onto his haunches and tugged off his shirt, giving her her first glimpse of his bare chest. It was broad and smooth, muscled from strenuous endeavor, and she laid her palms on his skin. He hissed with a sort of delectable agony, and she didn’t suppose the ultimate event would last very long.
He’d desired her from the moment they’d met, and she’d never assuaged any of the lust she’d stirred in him. His restraint was just about gone.
“It’s your final chance, Joanna,” he said. “Are you still sure?”
She chuckled, but with exasperation. “Yes! You can’t talk me out of this.”
“It’s just that, if we continue, I can’t hold back. If you lose heart, I doubt I’ll be able to stop.”
“You shouldn’t hold back or stop. You must show me how thrilling it can truly be.”
“Gad, you’ll be the death of me. I just know it.”
That was all the conversation he could manage. He leapt into the fray again, and they raced toward a satisfying collision, but to her great frustration, her virginal tendencies kept trying to burst out. She’d catch herself quavering, debating whether she was really certain, and she’d have to physically force herself to relax.
She wanted this. She wanted him. She wasn’t confused about that.
He was touching her all over, massaging her breasts, as down below, he was opening his trousers. He did everything gradually so she could adjust. There was no need to panic. He widened her thighs, his torso dropping between them, then his cock was placed where it was so desperate to be.
It felt very strange though, and while she comprehended every facet of the mechanics necessary to get the act accomplished, she was overwhelmed and out of her element. She always assumed she was so smart, but not about this.
He wedged in the tip, and she tensed instinctively, but he whispered, “Don’t be afraid.”
“I’m not.”
“It will be over quickly.”
“I don’t wish it to be quick. I wish it to go on forever.”
He laughed at the comment, and she told herself to remember how he looked right then: handsome and determined and overjoyed.
He nibbled on her nipples, and her passion rose again. As it crested, as she flew to the heavens, he flexed—once, twice—and he was fully impaled. She huffed out a soft breath, and he halted and peered down at her with such affection that tears surged into her eyes.
He appeared stricken. “You can’t be sad.”
“I’m not sad.”
“What is it then? Does it hurt?”
She frowned, took stock. “No. I’m . . . bewildered and happy.”
“Wrap your arms around me. Hold me tight.”
“Like this?”
“Yes, just like that.”
He started to move his hips, pushing into her, then pulling out. He watched her the whole time, and she watched him too, relishing the sentiments that spread across his face.
His motions were very deliberate, very sure, and she required a few minutes to get the hang of it. When she did, she participated with as much vigor as she could muster, but her enthusiasm propelled him to the brink.
He muttered a curse, then delivered several deep thrusts, and spilled himself against her womb. He was very still, planted far inside her, then he groaned and collapsed onto her. His weight pressed her down, but he didn’t feel heavy. He felt welcome and wonderful.
After a bit, he drew away, their bodies separating, and she winced, deciding her inner parts
