the pressure there light and rhythmical, he splayed his other hand upwards and captured a raised breast. It fitted perfectly into his hand. He could hardly wait to taste it, to taste every part of her but before he could take her into his arms and carry her to his bed her back arched, her groin pressed hard against his finger and she stiffened. He watched in awe at their reflection. Her eyes were tightly closed, her lips parted, her cheeks flushed. Then she shuddered and became limp in his arms. If she hadn’t been secure against him, he had no doubt she would have fallen to the floor.
He’d never seen or felt anything like it—such a primal, animalistic response. It filled him with something he couldn’t name...could only feel, gripping his chest.
Keeping her pressed tight against him, he turned her enough to lift her into his arms.
There was no resistance; her eyes gazed into his, dazed bewilderment ringing out. When she reached a hand to press a palm to his cheek he swallowed, his heart beating so fast it had become a painful thrum.
He laid her down on the bed and shrugged his open shirt off, discarding it on the floor.
She’d covered her breasts. He took hold of her hands and carefully parted them, exposing her full nakedness to him.
To his eyes, Amalie was perfect—her arms and legs toned and smooth, her skin soft, her breasts high, ripe peaches, begging to be tasted.
Bringing his head down to hers, he captured her lips. She returned his kiss with passion, her tongue sweeping into his mouth, her hot, sweet breath flowing into his senses. Her hands reached for his head and razed through his hair.
As he deepened the kiss he stroked his fingers down her body, exploring the soft skin, delighting in the mews escaping her throat.
Breaking the kiss, he ran his lips down her throat and lower, to her breasts, capturing one in his mouth...
Theos.
For the first time since his teenage years he was on the verge of losing control already. He had never felt so constricted by his boxer shorts, the tight cotton material as tight a barrier as steel.
But she tasted so good, of a sweet, feminine essence his senses reacted to. Not just his senses. Every part of him reacted to it.
‘Is something wrong?’ she whispered, uncertainty in her voice.
‘No,’ he promised, dragging his mouth back up to her lips and kissing her again. ‘Everything is perfect.’
Her hands grabbed at his face, her fingers kneading his cheeks before sweeping over his neck and chest and down to his abdomen. This time she didn’t hesitate, pushing under the cotton to lightly touch the head of his erection.
Her kisses stopped and she sucked in a breath.
‘It doesn’t bite,’ he teased, smoothing her hair off her forehead.
Her lips twitched into a shy smile and she burrowed her face into his neck before her tongue darted out to lick his skin. She rubbed her leg against him, all the while slowly trailing her fingers down his length, which throbbed madly under her gentle ministrations. She made no attempt to take hold of it, seemingly content simply to stroke and explore. That this only made him harder than ever—something he had not thought possible—only added to his painful ardour. If he didn’t find some release soon he feared he might actually combust.
‘I don’t use birth control,’ she whispered into his neck.
‘I didn’t think you did,’ he assured her, moving her hand away so he could lean over to his bedside table, where he dimly remembered throwing a packet of condoms into a drawer. They were still there. He pulled one out and ripped the foil off, all the time keeping his focus on Amalie, who had sat up and was now exploring his chest with her fingers, the expression on her face something close to rapture.
Kissing her first, he got off the bed and tugged his boxers down.
She met his eyes and swallowed.
‘Don’t be scared,’ he murmured, kneeling back on the bed and gently pushing her flat, so her head rested on the pillow and she was laid out beneath him.
Her smile was dazzling. ‘I’m not.’
He kissed her again, then disentangled her arms, which had hooked around his neck at the first press of his lips.
Working swiftly, he securely rolled the condom on, then knelt between her parted thighs. He brushed his hands over her beautiful downy hair, a thrill racing through him to feel her damp heat all over again, his arousal increasing when she bucked upwards to meet his touch.
Then, moving slowly, he laid himself on top of her, taking care not to put his full weight on her. Moving even slower, he guided his erection to the welcome warmth of her opening.
Her hands gripped his shoulders, her nails digging into his flesh.
Her eyes were screwed tight shut.
‘Look at me, little songbird,’ he said, stroking her cheek.
She opened her eyes. That dazed look had returned to them.
He pushed forward a little more, clenching his teeth as he stopped himself from driving in any deeper. Amalie had never done this before. If he were to do what he so desperately wanted and simply plunge deep inside her he would hurt her, no matter how hot and wet she was for him.
Theos, she felt so tight.
He inched forward some more, giving her time to adjust before pressing a little further. Each new push forward elicited the same gasp from her lips: a hitch of surprised pleasure.
As he continued to inch slowly into her he brushed his lips against hers, relishing the short, ragged breaths she breathed back into him.
When he was fully sheathed inside her he paused to catch his own breath and closed his eyes, forcing his mind to think of something—anything—other than what they were doing at that moment.
But no matter how hard he tried, even with his eyes firmly shut, all he could see was Amalie.
She shifted slightly beneath him, her hands moving from his shoulders to trail down his back, causing thrills of shivers racing down his spine.
Only when he was sure he had control of himself did he withdraw—not all the way, but enough so that when he pushed back he had to grit his teeth more to retain his control.
This was torture. The most divine torture he had ever known.
For the first time in his life he truly wished he could make love without the barrier of a condom, to experience every single aspect of it.
He withdrew a little further, pressed back a little deeper.
Once he was certain Amalie had adjusted to this whole new experience, and that there was no discomfort for her, he allowed himself to settle into a rhythm, all the while telling himself to be gentle, to make this special for her.
He’d never experienced anything like it. Every thrust felt as if he were diving deeper into some unknown abyss, one filled with beautiful, dream-evoking colour.
There was something so pure about her responses. Nothing was for effect; everything—all her touches, all her kisses, all her soft moans—was an expression of how she was feeling at that moment and the pleasure she was taking from their lovemaking.
When he gripped her bottom and raised it, just enough to let him penetrate a little deeper, her cry into his mouth was the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard. Even though he was desperate for his own relief he held on, keeping the rhythm that had her tossing her head from left to right and made her breath shallow. Then he felt her thicken around him, felt her pulsing at the same moment she breathed out his name and clung to him, burying her face in his neck as her orgasm made her whole body vibrate and shudder.
He held on, waiting until her climax was spent, then raised himself onto his knees and spread her thighs further apart. He wanted to look at her,