Darkest Before Dawn

He admired the hell out of her. Respected her. Thought her a woman without equal. He couldn’t conceive of what he could have done right in his life to have this one night with her. Right before he delivered her into the hands of evil.

He took his time, studying and learning her body inch by delicious inch. He kissed every mark, every bruise or wound and then lapped gently at it to soothe any sting he might have caused.

Her hands cradled his head when she could reach it as he continued his thorough exploration of her body. When she was quivering, not in pain, but nearly shuddering with desire, he became more aggressive and demanding, but still mindful of her fragility.

He sucked and nipped at her neck, quickly figuring out that it, like her breasts, was one of the most sensitive regions on her body. Or at least that he’d discovered so far. Her ultimate female nectar, he was waiting to taste, drawing out the anticipation—and hers.

Several times he got close, skimming his tongue and lips and then grazing his teeth along her belly and just above her soft mound. She moaned low in her throat and then made the sound of a frustrated woman nearing the end of her limits.

He smiled and lifted his fierce gaze, savage satisfaction gripping him when she returned every ounce of his ferocity in her own gaze.

And then finally, he gave in to what they both wanted so badly.

Using a feather-light touch, he brushed the tips of his fingers over the plush lips of her sex and then carefully parted them, inhaling as he scented her need and saw her delicate pink flesh glistening with the evidence of her intense arousal.

Still, he cautioned himself to go slowly. Not to overwhelm her. She was small. A fighter, yes, a scrapper who didn’t know how to quit. But she was delicately built. His hands easily spanned her narrow rib cage, easily trapped her hips in his firm grasp, holding her bottom captive against the bed.

He lowered his head and she whimpered low in her throat and then gasped sharply when he tongued her from her small opening to her taut clitoris that puckered and strained upward to receive the tiny flicks of his tongue.

He rolled the bud around with his tongue, teasing and tormenting, deriving every bit as much pleasure from the act as she was.

She was wetter, much more damp, but he still wanted to make sure she was ready—able—to take him. He was a large man in all areas. Strong, muscled. Lean. An ultimate weapon for destruction. And seduction.

Yes, he’d seduced women to get information. He’d never hurt even one of them, and he’d made damn sure he made the sex good for them. But for him? He had simply turned it off and performed by rote, never allowing himself to feel this kind of need—obsession.

He drank of her sweetness. So much innocence. He’d never had such innocence. He tongued and sipped until he had to hold her down to keep her from hurting herself.

When he was certain she was hot and wet enough to take him, he shifted his powerful body over hers and gazed down into her half-lidded eyes.

“Are you sure, Honor?” he asked even as his dick rimmed her slick entrance.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. Please, Hancock. Do this for me.”

He wanted to thrust in her so deep and hard that there was no separation between them. That for these precious few seconds, they were one person. One heart and soul.

But he mustered every ounce of control he possessed and eased carefully forward, watching her eyes widen as she stretched around him. And then a grimace touched those eyes and he halted.

“No,” she protested. “Either pull back or just push in. Quickly, please. I can feel something stretched, like it’s about to tear, and it hurts this way. Please make it go away.”

If he retreated, then she’d have to repeat it all over again, and he’d spare her what hurt he could. Closing his eyes, gritting his teeth tightly as though he were experiencing the sweetest agony, he thrust all the way home.

She bucked upward, crying out, even as his hands had solidly anchored her hips. He immediately peppered her face, eyes, forehead, nose, lips, with kisses, “sorry” a litany between each kiss.

“I’m so sorry I hurt you, Honor,” he said, allowing the torture in his voice to tear free.

Her smile slid into the deepest recesses of his very being.

“Move with me,” she invited huskily. “It doesn’t hurt so much anymore. And if you . . .”

She dropped off shyly, averting her gaze.

His heart turned over in his chest.

“What do you need for me to do, baby?” he asked tenderly.

“Touch me,” she whispered. “Put your mouth on my breasts.”

He slid his hand between their joined bodies and stroked one finger over her slick nub and was rewarded with an instant surge of heated moisture coating his dick. He groaned even as he lowered his head to suck one straining nipple into his mouth, coaxing it to rigidity. He took his time, tonguing in and lapping, circling a damp trail around the puckered crest. Then he turned his focus to her other breast, giving it equal attention until she was breathless and moving restlessly beneath him.

“Now?” he asked, the words straining past his clenched jaw.

“Now,” she agreed, her eyes glowing with desire she didn’t try to hide from him.

He gripped her hips, not to hurt her, but to hold her in place, carefully anchored between him and the bed so she didn’t hurt herself. Then he surged forward. He withdrew, dragging his dick through engorged, highly sensitized flesh, each stroke of her velvety plush pussy sending electric shocks down his spine. His balls gathered tightly to the point of pain, but this wasn’t for him. He wasn’t taking. He was giving. His final gift to her.