Cursed

She wrapped her hands around his head and tried to mimic the movements of his mouth.

 

The sound he made was a cross between a moan and a gasp. It sent a little reverberation through her, a sensation of unexpected pleasure. Then he turned his head and blew out the candle next to her on the bedside table.

 

The faint glow of the fireplace gave only enough light to silhouette Matteo as he backed off of her. She heard the rustle of cloth as he removed his breeches. It was too dark for her to make out the details, but she had a brief glimpse of his erect manhood against the glow of the fire.

 

The sight was intimidating. Swallowing heavily she tensed as the covers were pulled back. Heat enveloped her, covering her in a blanket of hair-roughened skin and hard flesh.

 

His weight was temporary as Matteo moved down her body, tossing the blankets aside to run his hands up her legs, pushing the skirt of her nightgown up to her waist. She was expecting him to move back up again, so when he pressed his lips to the fragile skin of her sex she yelped and tried to push him away.

 

He parted the curls shielding her secrets and began to trace a path over her lips with the tip of his tongue.

 

“My lord, what are you doing?” she panted, confused.

 

There was no answer, only a heightening of sensation as he delved deeper. Startled, she pushed at his head harder until he took hold of one of her hands and kissed it.

 

“Relax mi amore,” he murmured, pushing her down before resuming his intimate exploration.

 

Isobel tried to follow his direction but she couldn’t. Instead, she lay back and stared at the ceiling, hands fisting, trying to grab something to hold on to. But the more he stroked and licked at her damp flesh, the weaker her grip became.

 

“Matteo!” she gasped as he pushed one of his fine patrician fingers inside of her.

 

He stroked and probed in concert with the movement of his mouth until he was moving in and out of her in a regular rhythm, his tongue running up and down over sex.

 

She was breathing in a raged staccato pattern, her hips wriggling involuntarily when he added a second finger, flexing and separating them slightly to open her wider. Flinching at the sudden discomfort, she let a little whimper escape before she could stop herself. He made a soothing sound and kissed her softly before sucking in the little nubbin of hooded flesh at the top of her sex.

 

It was like lightning had shot through her entire body. Her body arced as her body spasmed and clamped down on Matteo’s fingers tightly. The hoarse cry that escaped her was involuntary and loud enough to embarrass her later. But Matteo murmured soft approving words in Italian she couldn’t really understand as he crawled up her body and settled between her legs, his stone hard member pressing into her.

 

She couldn’t help it—she tensed, the languorous pleasure dissipating like smoke. And he could feel it.

 

“It’s all right, mi amore,” he whispered, stroking the skin of her thigh.

 

She thought he was going to stop. Instead, he took hold of her hips and rolled until she was on top of him.

 

“What are you doing?” she asked, giving him a frown he couldn’t possibly see with her back to the fire.

 

“This way will be more...comfortable for you this first time,” he murmured, pushing her up until she was straddling him.

 

Slowly he lifted the hem of her nightgown up. The soft material brushed up her waist and against her breasts in a sensuous rush. Her sensitized skin tingled as she was freed from the restraint, the peaks of her breast hardening in contact with the air.

 

Breathless now, Isobel tried to regain her scattered senses. But the hard male body underneath her shifted and her body quickened in a dizzying rush. Steadying herself she giggled suddenly. Matteo’s brows rose.

 

“Er, I just realized why women are only allowed to ride side-saddle,” she said as he gathered her closer.

 

He laughed, a deep rich sound that relaxed her more than anything else could have. His fingers stroked her damp flesh, teasing and thrilling her until his arousal began to press against the small opening of her entrance.

 

Her body resisted him with more determination than it should have, given what Matteo had just done to her. She couldn’t see him, but he felt large, too large.

 

She cried out when her body finally gave way and the bulbous head of his shaft penetrated her body.

 

“Shh,” he murmured, moving her legs to adjust her position once more.

 

He pulled her on top of him, the bare skin of his chest and stomach touching the smoother skin of hers. “Just wait a moment, and you’ll grow accustomed to me.”

 

Isobel gripped his arm. “I really don’t think that’s going to happen,” she whispered.

 

“You will. The worst is over,” he said, but his voice sounded strained.