Darkest Before Dawn (Page 76)

“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.

He had to push that thought away as heavy, aching sorrow filled his heart, his lungs, his very soul. And instead he concentrated on making this as pleasurable as he hoped she would think it to be.

He pushed deep, holding himself there, closing his eyes and simply giving himself over to the rush of pleasure enveloping him. Sweetness that he’d never before known in his life surrounding him and pulling him further into its web of ecstasy.

“Please,” she begged, her voice hoarse with strain. “I need you now, Hancock. I’m so close . . . but I don’t know what to do.”

She sounded panicked and unsure of herself. He gathered her close, wrapping his arms around her fragile body, and held her as she deserved to be held the first time someone made love to her. Only his hips moved, undulating up and over hers, pushing deep and then withdrawing.

But when her mouth nuzzled against his neck and nipped before kissing a line to his ear and sucking the lobe into her mouth, he saw stars and his body was no longer his to control. It was hers. Only hers.

He powered forward again and again.

“Yes,” she moaned. “That, Hancock. That. Please don’t stop. I’m so close but I don’t know what I’m close to!”

The frustration and innocence in her voice drove him those last precious inches over the brink. He slid one arm down underneath her sweet ass and lifted her, angling so he could drive even deeper, and then he set a pace that left them both gasping, moaning, writhing.

Her legs slid around his, anchoring her to him.

“That’s it, baby,” he whispered. “Lock them around me and hold me tight. Trust me to get you where you want to go. Don’t be afraid. I’ll be there to catch you. Just let yourself go.”

After his second thrust, with her legs locked around his, she shattered in his arms, shivering, quaking, her cries splitting the night. The surge of wetness around his dick stole the last of his wavering control and he followed close behind her, making sure she went first, that she found her pleasure and release before him. Only when she was in the throes of her orgasm did he plunge deep and hold himself there, emptying himself deep within her body.

He’d never felt a sense of homecoming that rivaled the touching of two hearts, body and soul. He knew he never would again.

CHAPTER 27

HANCOCK held Honor tightly in his arms as they lay side by side, ensuring that her injured side wasn’t the one she lay on or put any pressure on. Quiet had descended and neither made effort to disturb the peace that enveloped them.

She snuggled deeper into his embrace, as if she could burrow inside him and stay for all time. Didn’t she know she’d already done that? That no matter where he went in this life, he’d carry a part of her with him. And all the regret for what could never be.

He hated himself. His hatred was a living, fire-breathing entity that had taken on a life of its own, slowly consuming him until nothing would remain except the hollow shell of a man-machine. Because no man would ever allow the woman lying in his arms to come to harm.

She was silent, but as he gazed at her, he could see that her brow was furrowed and her eyes shadowed. He frowned. Had he hurt her after all? Did she regret what she’d asked him to do? Because there was not a single part of him that regretted making her his. Taking something that would never belong to anyone else. Her innocence. Her virginity. The honor of being the first man to have ever made love to Honor.