Chasing Love (12 page)

With that, she pulled the silk shirt totally off, showcasing a tiny demi-bra, black with sparkly beads and sequins sewn onto the cups.

The chilly night wind caused her nipples to pucker, though thankfully that reaction was hidden behind her bra. The dampness in her crotch, however, was given away through the thinness of the pirate pants and her almost-non-existent thong.

Christiana, however, was too interested in Edward and his reactions to be worried about her own.

Edward stared at her, mouth agape, and Christiana smiled. Between the sweat beading on his forehead, the heaving pants of his chest and the iron-hard cock between her legs, she felt quite satisfied with her work so far.
This
was the sort of reaction she was looking for.

She shimmied against his groin, causing him to moan and groan like a man in mortal pain. Inch by inch, she let the breeches slide down her legs, until she had to reach down, slipping her sandals off and pulling the pants free from her legs.

“Oh shit, a man can’t take too much of this,” he complained, staring at her matching G-string. A tiny triangle of black silk, with shiny beads sewn into the material to make it shimmer and call a man to his doom.

Once again he was reminded of one of the important answers to life. Christiana definitely shaved. The lips of her pussy pouted, free and clear of any hair. A light sprinkling of hair dusted her mons, just enough to tempt and tease a man dying from unexplored lust.

Christiana held still above him for a moment, letting him take in as much as he could. Men were, after all, visual creatures.

When she feared for his sanity—she did not want a drooling moron for a lover—she bent down and kissed him once more. Sliding her tongue into his mouth, she tasted her Edward. He was so familiar, even though they had not kissed much. It was as if she had always known his taste, his scent. She wasn’t surprised but it was comforting, sweet.

Deciding she couldn’t wait much longer, sitting happily over his cock, she started to wiggle her G-string down her thighs. As she flipped the scrap of material off the edge of the bed, she twisted her arms back, intending to unclasp her demi-bra.

“No!” he cried out. “Leave the bra on! It’s kind of a turn-on. It sparkles like your eyes.”

Rolling her eyes at the strange notions of men, Christiana nevertheless left the bra on. Rubbing her dripping pussy over the long length of his cock, she felt her own mouth start to drool. For years she had fantasized about this moment. She could barely believe that she was finally here.

The moon shone in through the window, bathing them in Her light. Her lover, the man of her fantasies and dreams, lay before her, ready and eager to do her bidding. Sure, she knew as soon as she removed the handcuffs he would exact his revenge, but how sweet that would also be. Her mouth watered at all the things he might do to her, might make her do to
him
.

Running her swollen, dripping pussy lips over and over his cock, she unconsciously set up a rhythm. She didn’t mean to set up the thrusting, grinding pace but it was more instinctual than that. But Edward immediately caught on and began to thrust his hips in synch to her rhythm.

“Now, Christi! I need you now!”

Eagerly agreeing, she changed her angle and thrust herself down on his dripping cock. Her own juices had coated him—something she was grateful for, even though that hadn’t been her intention.

She felt her hymen tear, a most unusual feeling, and then he was simply
there
. It wasn’t unpleasant but it was too uncomfortable to be precisely
pleasant
. She felt full, and the feeling was weird, almost shocking.

She panted, realizing that Edward was panting, too.

“I
told
you I should have helped you with this. I could have made it easier. Stroke your clit, darling. Give yourself some pleasure to counteract the pain.”

“It’s not exactly pain, Edward.” But even as she spoke, she began to stroke herself, surprised at how much it eased the uncomfortable feeling. “I’m just a bit full at the moment.”

“A bit?” he teased. “Sweetheart, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”

With that, he began to thrust in and out of her with a slow, steady rhythm.

The friction of his cock made tingles with the friction of her finger stroking her clit. Soon, she felt herself relaxing around his cock, even thrusting in tangent with him, eager to feel him deeper.

She opened her eyes, unaware of when she had closed them, to find Edward staring at her, his eyes burning in the darkness. He had turned the cuffs slightly, so he gripped them with an iron grip, using them as leverage to thrust his body deeper and deeper inside her.

It was strangely erotic. Maybe it was simply the heat and intensity of his eyes, the love and lust and need she saw in those depths.

She moaned, the desire and pent-up need she felt vibrating through his body driving her wild.

She felt something building inside her. It was so much larger than her own, private orgasms. This was huge, building like a giant wave about to crash over her. She let it come, knowing from her private experience that if one fought an orgasm, one lost it.

She opened to it, let Edward thrust deeper and deeper inside her as she stroked her clit, pushed herself back onto him, grinding their bodies together.

And then suddenly she threw her head back and screamed. There was no other way to release the tension inside herself. She screamed and felt her body closing vise-like around his immense shaft. She felt the ripples cascade through her and her clit became ultrasensitive and she almost stopped stroking it.

The convulsions racked through her body and she finally began to fall from the high.

She came back to earth, slowly and carefully. She felt sure she had a sappy, post-orgasmic stupid look on her face. All her girlfriends had told her it was so. It took her a moment to realize Edward hadn’t come. Edward was looking a little better, but still very hot and bothered and, if the giant cock still rammed up inside her was any indication, he was far from finished.

She silently wondered what she had gotten herself into.

Chapter Fifteen

Edward watched Christiana come down from her orgasm and felt a fierce surge of possessiveness wash through him.

She was his now. No matter what she said or did, she was his. He knew this wasn’t her first orgasm but it was damn well her first orgasm with a man inside her and so it was the first one that counted.

He had felt the rending tear as he had pierced her hymen. Never having had a virgin, he hadn’t been aware that a man could feel it yet he had. Somehow it had made everything even more intense. In the second he had felt that tear, everything had cemented for him.

They were perfect together and they both knew it. His Christi-girl might need a bit more time, and undoubtedly a lot more convincing, but he
knew
they were meant to be.

The tear had touched him, also. He had never questioned that Christiana had stayed pure—hell, she had turned him down enough that he
knew
what she would have been like to other men.

Yet, feeling that membrane tear had touched something inside him. Made him more determined than ever to make sure this was the best first experience any woman could have.

His Christiana deserved the best.

And so he had driven her up that first peak, watched her climax splendidly and held himself in check.

He was going to drag this out as long as possible for her.

He saw the glint in her gaze the second she realized he hadn’t come. When she bent forward slightly, to drive him even deeper inside him, he groaned. He
hoped
to make this last longer for her. If she tried to drive him wild, however…well, a guy could only wait so long.

When she began moving up and down on him with a vengeance, he found himself pleading without even realizing it.

“Christi, I want to make this last for you…don’t rush it!”

She smiled and bent down to kiss him. As she slid her tongue between his lips and then sucked his own tongue into her mouth, he moaned, totally lost. He felt himself drowning, falling deeper and deeper into her spell. He could
feel
his balls rise, ready to blow their load as soon as he let himself go.

He held on, grimly determined to let her come at least once more. He moved his hand, forgetting the cuffs for a moment. He pulled his mouth away from hers.

“Touch yourself, baby, and let me watch you come again as I shoot myself in you,
please
.”

She lifted herself up again, looking magnificent in the dark cabin. Her hair was curling and sticking in spots down her back, in the sweat
he
had created. Her demi-bra shone and sparkled at him but, best of all, her eyes were that deep, dark blue he had always loved, always lost himself in. She stared down at him as if he were the only man in the world and, for her, he was.

She rammed him deeper and deeper inside her slender body. Frantically, she toyed with her clit, both sensitive and unbearably aroused at the same time. Edward could feel the urgency inside her, could feel the gathering climax inside himself.

“Play with your breasts, baby,” he commanded, amazed that she didn’t even question him, but dipped both her hands inside the demi-bra, cupping both of the globes he coveted like mad, and toyed with her nipples.

This
was masculine power, Edward knew. This electric sexual bond between them, the shift and flow of power and sexual chemistry, feeding from one to the other.

Edward gasped deep lungfuls of air, determined not to come until Christiana had come again. He thanked the Goddess as he felt her contracting once more around him, pushed his head back deep into the pillow and felt his control finally snap.

As they both cried out together, their mutual orgasm rocketing along with both their cries, Edward had a flash. It was like a dream—or as if an angel had handed him an instant-snap photo.

It was he and Christiana, looking out toward him. And in his Christi’s arms lay the most perfect baby in existence. A tiny little girl, with his rich, dark curls, but with Christi’s perfect blue eyes. She looked around six months old and she was wiggling her arms and legs excitedly, obviously wanting to be put down.

And in that same instant that he saw it, it was gone. He felt his cock explode and his seed, his very essence and his soul’s passion, surged deep inside his love, his True Mate.

He cried out, both with the explosive release, and also with joy and thanksgiving deep in his soul. He blinked away the tears that had sprung up from nowhere and he enjoyed the most satisfying release of his life.

Some of his joy and happiness must have transferred over to Christiana, because he felt her come again, hard on the heels of her last orgasm, and his cock kept on and on exploding, as if he would never get enough.

Finally, she collapsed on top of him, so spent and sated she didn’t even giggle at the funny noises their sweaty bodies made as they slapped together.

He let them both catch their breath, stunned both by the intensity of their first time—he shuddered at the mental images of how fantastic sex between them would be with some practice—and his joy and shock at that strange image.

“Well, now you gotta marry me. You’re pregnant.”

Christiana frowned, her mind obviously struggling for some reason to deny him one more time. “Don’t be silly. We’re both Alphas. You know only a True Mate can impregnate another Alpha. And besides, how the hell do
you
know? I thought intuition was a woman’s thing.”

Edward shrugged. “I thought the New Age man was supposed to have some sort of intuition. Besides, the whole True Mate concept is tricky.”

Briefly, he explained what Zachariah had told him about True Mates and how it was partly destiny, but also partly luck in their scents meshing.

“But our scents…” Christiana trailed off, unsure and obviously thinking. Edward chortled.

“Oh please, our scents have been mingled since we were tiny. Why do you think Grandpa threw us together so much?”

Christiana’s eyes widened. “Why that sneaky matchmaker. He’s wanted this since the start, hasn’t he?”

Edward shrugged, not prepared to go into it all just now. Let her work out she was pregnant first. Then they could marry—as soon as she uncuffed him he would mark her—and then everything would fall into place.

He sighed contentedly as Christiana snuggled into him. “Hey,” he mumbled as a thought struck him. “Where’s my mask?”

“Oh, I left it in my room. It was just too sexy and masculine to use. I figured you could use it afterwards—when we go back to pack.”

“Pack?”

“Sure, if we’re going to get married, then we’ll have to find a house in the city.”

Edward nodded and added in his two cents. Damned if he’d let her rule him completely, a man had to have his pride. “Lots of room. I want a heap of kids.”

Christiana wrinkled her nose. “I dunno… You’ve watched that tape of Uncle Samuel’s, the one of mom giving birth to me. I can’t blame her for refusing to allow him to tape any of the other kids. It all looks rather undignified to me.”

Edward grinned. “Oh, that’s okay. You’ve got nine months to work on it.”