Free 1939912059 (R) by Delilah Marvelle

tone.
    That overly thick fullness made her inner thighs ache beyond bearing in an effort to hold him so deep. His hard length seemed to pulse within her, making her all too aware he was in complete control of whether she survived or not.
    His fingers dug harder into the back of her head and gripped her braid, tilting and edging her head down toward him. He captured her mouth and rolled his hot tongue against hers.
    She melted and found herself so oblivious and mesmerized, she almost forgot to kiss him. Because it was the closest thing to perfection she had ever experienced.
    Releasing her mouth, Gérard smeared his lips down the length of her throat.
    Uneven breaths escaped her. “You can try to move.”
    Securing her legs better around his waist, he rigidly stroked his cock into her. He increased the pace of his hips, pushing his cock progressively deeper and deeper. Curving his entire mouth to her shoulder, he buried his head into is curve.
    The progressive, urgent pace of his large cock within her tightness made her realize the discomfort was becoming too great to take anymore pleasure. He was stroking into her too deep and too hard.
    Razor sharp, raw pain made her flinch. “Gérard. No more. I—”
    He rolled them and set her onto her back. Holding her gaze in between breaths that made his broad chest visibly rise and fall, he set both hands against her head. Smoothing her hair and sides of her face with large trembling hands, he whispered, “Do you want me to stop?”
    The urgency and need in that voice and in those eyes, along with those hands that attempted to soothe away her discomfort, made her relent. “No,” she choked out.
    “Are you certain?”
    She nodded.
    He captured her lips and rolled his hips into her, dipping the full length of his cock in and out. He rolled faster. Gripping her body tight as he kissed her, he pounded into her full force, feverishly thudding her into the ground and blanket.
    She gasped against the searing pain and shoved at his bunched shoulders that were making it impossible for her to breathe.
    He stilled, his uneven harsh breaths filling the space between them. “Forgive me.” He pulled out, his chest heaving and raised himself over her exposed breasts. Straddling her, he gathered the well-glistened root of his rigid cock and holding it with one hand, dragged his other hand from root to tip and back again. “Hold your breasts together.”
    She did exactly what he wanted.
    Towering above her, he jerked his erection, his gaze riveted to her breasts. He breathed out, “Thérèse,” and ejaculated the warmth of his seed onto her breasts, startling her.
    At least the man had said her name. Not someone else’s.
    Groaning, he spilled out more, making her gape in disbelief that he had no shame.
    He swayed above her, and then stilled. In between heavy breaths, he lowered himself and used the edge of the wool blanket to wipe the seed off her breasts. He captured her gaze.
    She swallowed, knowing this officially made them lovers. She covered herself.
    He rolled off and buttoned his breeches. Propping himself on an elbow beside her, he leaned in close. He traced a finger across her arm. “Are you all right?”
    If that voice had not softened with genuine concern, she would have smacked him. For it had hurt a touch more than she wanted it to. A remaining tear from her earlier pain spilled over the rim of her eye and trailed down her cheek.
    His brows flickered. “Thérèse.” He cupped her chin and nudged it toward himself. A breath escaped him as his thumb slid her tear away.
    She sniffed.
    He dragged in a breath and slowly let it out. He was quiet for a long moment. “Thank you for making love to me.” He leaned in and softly kissed her head. Once. Twice. Thrice.
    She melted against those words and with each and every kiss. Did all men thank women for making love to their bodies? It was nice. She nestled her head against his chest and pressed herself tighter against him, reveling