Free The Virgin's Auction by Amelia Hart Page B

overflowing; but no longer hurting.
    From behind her closed eyelids a single weak tear leaked out and ran down her cheek.
    He was motionless, his breath heavy and fast against her neck. Other than that, and the faint snapping of the fire, there was silence.
    Slowly, imperceptibly, the tension that had filled her body began to dissipate. Her small fingers fluttered against his hard shoulder. He was trembling in fine, light shudders, his skin slippery with sweat as he held his weight off her but their bodies aligned.
    She opened her eyes and narrowed them as she looked up at the ceiling, considering. That was it. She was a maiden no longer. Ruined. Lost to polite society forever.
    Such a small difference, to mean so much.
    And painful, yes. But she had experienced much greater pain than that before. She felt very small, dominated by him, helpless beneath him. But she was not afraid. Not afraid of the man who had brought her such boundless pleasure. Who trembled atop her.
    A very peculiar thing, to have part of a man’s body resting inside her. A thousand men she had passed on the street and never known this could be done with one. Not exactly.
    Was this all, then? All there was to this congress?
    And the other things he had done to her with his mouth and fingers, what of that? Why had he done it? It had pleased her body beyond anything she had ever felt. Is that why he had done it? Was this a kindness done to please her?
    She couldn’t credit it. No man had ever done anything just to please her ; except Peter, and he was her brother.
    Could he really have paid a huge sum to get something he wanted from her, and th en given her even more? Bizarre. Quite outside her experience. A generosity then.
    She did not want to owe him anything. But he hadn’t asked or demanded more of her. He might still. But she would be gone soon.
    Soon, but not yet.
    And this was the one time in all her life she would lie like this with a man. She had not imagined what a loss that could be until tonight. And her body wanted more of it. She could feel that peculiar . . . hunger; an urge to stretch, to grind against him.
    Experimentally she shifted just a little.
    “Don’t move!” he commanded.
    She considered her promise to herself to be obedient, made out of fear of the consequences and how he might hurt her. She measured that fear against the reality she had discovered lying in his arms. Then she disobeyed him, drawing her legs up so the soles of her feet rested on the bedcover. That did hurt, and her eyes flew wide open as she felt him slide even further into her.
    He groaned loudly into her ear, shuddering, and she waited to see what would happen next.
    Nothing did. She remained covered by his still body, with a hot pulsing between her legs, deep within her. She was firmly impaled.
    And all over her his warm skin lay against hers, a thousand points of contact, brought alive and singing with a single motion. How could she have lived a whole lifetime and never known the wonder of skin touching skin like this? It was a powerful thing that caught her unaware, the tender intimacy of it.
    It began to feel very good, suddenly. She wanted to rub up to him, push closer. Boldly she reached down and put her hands on his firm buttocks. They curved under her palms, rich with muscle.
    She squeezed, then pulled them towards her. It seemed right to strive against him. Like a stretch, to tense and strain then soften and relax, a subtle rocking.
    He did sink deeper, and there was a faint pain, but less than last time. Still, that motion seemed to break his control. With a wordless exclamation he began to draw out and away from her. Then he slid back in, aided by her tugging hands. The sensation of renewed fullness hurt and yet was exquisitely right .
    He did not stop moving, sliding smoothly into her again and again. The pain faded slowly away, overcome by a delight, a growing need that already felt familiar to her. He kissed her deeply, passionately, and her