Free My Reckless Surrender by Anna Campbell Page A

world ambition forced her to enter.
    She’d never lied with her body before. She hated to lie now.
    Some lies were beyond her. “No,” she said in a cracked whisper. “No kissing the first time.”
    Suspicion struggled with hunger in the glittering jade gaze. She’d adjusted to the carriage’s rocking, so she easily kept her balance while she reached down. She gasped to feel his hard length. He jerked as her fingers made glancing contact. Desire glazed his eyes, erased the brief wariness.
    Urgently, his hands stroked up her legs, lifting her skirts. She shivered with response as his palms skimmed fragile silk stockings, up to garters, to bare skin above.
    â€œSweet Christ, Diana,” he breathed in satisfaction.
    He’d just discovered she wore no drawers. His hands framed her hips.
    At last, her fumbling fingers found the trick of undoing his trousers. A couple of hurried movements, and he sprang free against her thigh. His hands slid around to grip her buttocks.
    â€œNow,” she groaned.
    His hold tightened. “You’re not ready.”
    â€œI’m ready.”
    To her shame, it was true. Just those few rough touches and hot moisture bloomed between her thighs. In spite of her resolution to remain uninvolved, her heart raced with excitement as much as trepidation.
    His fingers slipped to her center, stroked, spiked pleasure. “By God, you are.”
    She grabbed his hand. She didn’t want him satisfying her with his hands. She wanted his body in hers. And not, heaven forgive her, so she stole his seed.
    No, she just wanted him.
    The wild release in his arms last night should have warned her she was helpless against him. She brought his hand to her mouth and bit down hard on the heel of his palm. He shuddered beneath her as she lowered herself.
    She felt the smooth pressure of the head of his penis, blunt and larger than William’s. She waited for him to surge up and take control, but he seemed content to leave her in charge. Only the tight skin of his face indicated what his restraint cost.
    Her thigh muscles strained with discomfort. She spread her legs more widely and pressed down.
    Her body hadn’t known a man in eight years. She hadn’t expected that to cause difficulties. In truth, she’d never thought of the practical details of becoming Lord Ashcroft’s lover.
    Now practical details became paramount. Time crawled by, every second extending into an eon. Ashcroft’s eyes stared into hers with a ferocity that only stoked her arousal. Their ragged breathing filled the creaking coach. His hands were bruisingly tight as he supported her above him.
    She shifted to ease the discomfort and he closed his eyes as though she tortured him. He was so tense, she thought he might shatter. The slide of his penis against her thigh clenched her belly, sent rushing moisture to bathe the head.
    All this should make it easier to take him. It didn’t.
    She pressed down again and felt herself stretch over his thickness. She sobbed for breath. Could a man be too big for a woman? Surely that was anatomically impossible.
    â€œDiana, you’re driving me mad,” he gritted out.
    He used one hand to guide himself inside. She cried out at the painful stretching, and her hands formed claws on his shoulders. If he were naked, she’d have drawn blood.
    Gingerly, she sank lower, feeling the burn. She found no pleasure in what they did. This was like being impaled.
    â€œRelax your muscles,” he said roughly, surging up and making her whimper as she accommodated the thrust.
    His fingers stroked between her legs. Electric reaction jolted through her. Her muscles clamped around him, the sensation excruciating. Moisture flowed even as her passage closed against further incursions.
    Squeezing her eyes shut, she prayed for strength. Her mindtold her she’d accommodate him. Her body contradicted that idea.
    She drew a jagged breath. She couldn’t bear