Patience (44 page)

Though his breathing was coming fast, everything quieted as he released her hand. His gaze moved over her and his arms lifted toward her, but then he jerked back. Shoving his hand through his hair, he expelled a breath and shut his eyes.

Stepping close, Patience laid her hand on his chest. “What is it, my love?”

His lashes lifted and the dark fire that so often lit his eyes was burning more fiercely than ever. “I’ve dreamed of this moment,” he said softly. “I’ve imagined it over and over. Every morning, for the ten days we were parted, I came in my sheets thinking about it. I would lie on my stomach and thrust my cock against the mattress while I dreamed of fucking your sweet cunt.”

Patience shivered and her clitoris throbbed.

“But now that the moment is upon me,” he said, “I don’t think I can command my usual control.” He lifted his hands, and they were shaking. “I don’t have it today, Patience. And I can’t say what will happen without it.”

“It doesn’t matter, my love.” Patience smoothed her hands over his chest.

He covered her hands with his and held them against him. “I can’t say what will happen without it, Patience, because I’ve never been without it.”

Patience looked into his burning gaze, and her heart ached with love. “Then we are both virgins of sorts.” She pressed onto her toes and kissed him. “I trust you, my love.”

Matthew’s breathing quickened and his features shifted into lines that were somehow both Plutonian and angelic at the same time—dark lust and bright love. Or was it bright lust and dark love?

It was both.
He
was both.

“I love you,” he murmured.

And he was hers—her dark angel.

“I love you,” she replied.

His eyes darkened.

Then she gasped as he threw her on the bed.

SONG OF SOLOMON 6:3

 

 

 

 

Matthew tore off his clothes—throwing cravat, waistcoat, and shirt in all directions.

Patience lay with her red mane fanned around her head and her face flushed with love and desire. Her long pale body, accented by rosy nipples and the bright curls between her legs, looked golden in the late afternoon sunlight.

As Matthew kicked off boots and yanked at socks, she lifted first one lean leg and then the other to remove her high-buttons. Both times she drew up a knee, his eye was drawn to the brief show of her feminine flesh.

He ripped at his trousers, a wordless noise escaping him as he shoved them down with his undergarment. Patience slipped off one sagging black stocking. Before she could remove the other, he threw himself upon her—pinning her, open legged, beneath him.

Hot, sweet skin and clinging arms and legs.

Grass green eyes and gardenia-scented hair.

Patience—love.

“God, I love you,” he groaned. He thrust his tongue into her mouth, his hands into her hair, and the length of his cock against her wet folds—lubricating himself with her body’s passion. “I love you and I’m going to fuck you,” he breathed against her succulent lips before taking them in another deep kiss.

Drawing on his tongue, Patience moaned and moved—her hips undulating with his in a call to mate that had existed long before speech.

He knew how to answer her.

He burned to answer her.

Reaching between them, he gripped his swollen prick and rubbed the head against her slick opening.

Tearing his lips from hers, he looked into her green eyes—eyes full of love and want. Had Eve had such eyes? Lush with longing, and green as the garden she was born in? “Feel me,” he groaned, pushing his knob just inside her. “Feel me.”

Patience drew in a breath, and her hips lifted. “Yes, Matthew.”

She was so hot and wet. Tightening his grip around the base of his cock, he shook himself hard and fast. His whole heavy length quaked and moved as he inched deeper into his love.

Her lashes fluttering, she moaned, her hips tense and lifted.

“You like that?” he muttered. Tightening his grip, he shook his meat again.

Her eyes squeezed shut and her lips parted. “Yes—yes.”

Fuck, she was so tight. He pressed deeper.

And then he felt it—the barrier of her virginity.

Patience’s eyes flew open. “Oh, Matthew . . .”

He stared into her gaze, his lust darkening. More blood rushed to his cock, engorging it with the drive to fuck, even as it emptied his mind of any thoughts but those most primal.

He eased his hand from between them and, leveling his weight, settled more firmly, more immovably, against her resistant flesh.

Patience drew in her breath. “Matthew . . .”

“Do you know why I wake every morning with my cock hard?” His voice came from someplace deep inside him. “Because that’s how Adam woke from the sleep that gave birth to Eve. Now tell me”—braced on his elbows, he slowly slid his hands beneath her shoulders—“once he saw her, how long do you think Eve remained a virgin? An hour?” He eased his hips forward. Patience gasped. “A minute?” He pressed harder and watched her begin to writhe. “How long, my love?” Staring into her shining eyes, he gritted his teeth. “How long before Adam, hard with desire, broke her to his purpose—fucking her and filling her womb with his seed.” He bore down. “How long!”

Patience bit back a cry. “Seconds—now!” Tears sparkled in her eyes. “Take me now!”

Matthew shuddered. “Who and what are you?”

Her body arched beneath him and tears seeped from her eyes. “I am Eve, and I am yours.”

“Mine!”
Matthew groaned and thrust his body upward. Unbroken, Patience cried out and struggled beneath him, but he felt no pity for her passionate distress. It only enflamed him all the more. For she was his, and this was meant to be. “Mine,” he asserted into her tear-filled eyes, and thrust again. Her high mewl was full of yearning, and he moaned as she began to give, adoring submission shining from behind her moist eyes. His heart pounded with love. “Mine,” he breathed tenderly.

Then, with a great heave, he sundered her and, bathing in her blood, filled her body with his own thick flesh. “Forever mine.”

 

Forever his
.

Pinned and penetrated, her eyes wet with tears, Patience clung to Matthew even as she writhed at the painful pleasure between her legs. It was sharp and raw, and her clitoris was pulsing. Neither bliss nor agony, it was as if she were suspended in some kind of purgatory that promised both, but delivered neither. No matter how she moved, she found no relief. “Please, Matthew . . .”

His eyes glowing, he stared down at her, his powerful body unmoving. “Please what, my love?”

She clasped at him with her arms and legs. “Please, give me more! Move in me!”

Matthew’s jaw tensed. “Convince me.”

Moaning, Patience pulled him down and opened her mouth under his. She thrust her tongue as she arched against him and stroked her legs along his thighs and calves. His tensely muscled limbs felt large against her own, and she inhaled vetiver as she drank the warm wetness from his mouth. She kissed him and kissed him until they were gasping. Then she finally broke the contact and, tightening her legs around his rugged hips, spoke against his mouth. “I love the weight of your body between my legs, Matthew. I love the feel of your thick cock inside me. I love the strength of your hands upon me. And I love that you’re not afraid to use me well and ride me hard.”

He drew back, and his eyes looked like black glass, his features tense with restraint. Patience touched the hair falling against his temple, then pressed her hand against the angles of his cheek. “I feel your power, Matthew, trembling over me.” Tightening the fingers of her other hand in the short hair of his nape, she pulled him down and whispered into his ear, “Unleash it upon me.”

Matthew groaned. His mouth devouring hers in a scorching kiss, he surged against her, forcing his cock deeper.

Patience drew in his sweet breath and her body tensed, for she hadn’t known he had more flesh to give her. But as he continued to kiss her, and to thrust and press, she grew more and more breathless at the size and strength of his penetration. His hard heaviness filled and stretched her, and attending it was the raw pain of her torn virginity.

Tearing her lips from his, she panted and blinked back tears as he thrust again, his powerful body driving her upward.

His hand clasped her breast. Her nipple hardened. “Feel me, Patience,” he growled. His jaw was clenched and his eyes were fierce as he drove into her, again and again. “Feel the power of my love.”

Patience bit back cries and clawed at his back. It was bliss and agony—the bliss of being filled, the agony of being torn. Two sides of the same coin in a perfect and eternal intercourse, and woven together in the perfect wholeness of love.

And it was unrelenting, for, still, he drove her—thrusting his hard phallus into her virgin flesh, his muscles and limbs straining. “So tight.” He groaned. “But I shall make you fit me, Patience.” Clenching her hair in one hand, he moved the other to her hip, gripping it. His hold was more perfect than any bonds could ever be, for she felt the weight and force of his intent. His eyes captured hers. “I will fuck you . . .” he said on a harsh whisper, thrusting into her. Her breasts bounced and the severe sound of his voice softened her from the inside out. He thrust deeper. “And fuck you . . .” His deepening voice melted her like wax. His pubic bone slammed against hers. “I will fuck you until you fit.” He groaned on an exhale.

Patience sucked in a great, heaving breath. Then, panting short and shallow, she gazed up at him through her tears. He was truly inside her—deep inside her—touching the door to her womb. It was like nothing she’d ever felt—his thickness, filling her cunt and stretching her tightly around the trunklike root of his cock. It was as a glove might feel around a hand, or a corset around a waist. And as she stared into the face of her beloved, she knew that this was both her most base and most divine purpose. To be filled—with man, with seed, with child.

Her body, her heart, and her spirit quivered as one. “Matthew,” she breathed, “fuck me, please.”

“Yes.” He groaned. “Over and over, and again and again.” He held her hips immobile, and began rotating his own.

Holding him with her legs, Patience moaned as his prick stirred her, his knob circling the opening to her womb and pressing into her deepest recesses. As always, he touched her where she could not. But she no longer resisted that, for she was his to possess. So she tilted her hips up in offering, and gasped as he reached deeper. “Oh, my love. Yes . . .”

His features hard, he stared down at her. The revolving pressure was constant. Never releasing, never relenting, it heated her with a luscious friction that enraptured her nerves.

Patience trembled and her cunt clenched. She heard Matthew moan, but all she could think was that for the first time she wasn’t empty. The clenching wasn’t a call, it was an answer—a full, potent answer that sent desire surging inward to her womb as much as outward to her clitoris.

“Oh, God, Matthew!” She stared into his fierce gaze as she gripped his shoulders.

The more he moved, the tighter he wound her. Everything was mounting inside her—as if all the blood and fluids of her body were swirling together and spiraling toward her womb. She shuddered and shrunk inward. Matthew moved faster, cresting the waters of her desire, even as the whirlpool deepened—pulling her, and him, into the center of her body until, with a choked gasp, she was sucked into the whirling eddy of her own primordial lust.

Everything went dark and silent as she spun and spun to the point where life, lust, and love coalesce. And the place was both so small and so big that she could not fit into it or fill it—so she burst, her nerves exploding. And whirling out into a thousand pieces of bliss, she floated with the waters of her womb, small enough to fit in a thimble, expansive enough to fill a universe.

She lay shattered and weightless. But Matthew was moving—thrusting now. Shifting the tide with his staff, moving the pieces of her back together—thrusting and thrusting. And suddenly she could hear his groans and her own wordless cries. Gripping his buttocks and tilting her hips, she could feel the pain of her torn flesh and, swelling beneath it, a piercing, penetrating pleasure.

She opened her eyes and stared into his, black and blazing.

“I can smell your blood, ” he grunted as his body heaved against hers. “Your blood, which is mine. Your blood, which calls me to
come
.” His urgent thrusts quickened. “I want you. I love you.”

Patience bit into her lip as his cock slammed into her, forcing her desire into a surging wave that grew higher with each thrust. Again and again, and faster and faster he drove her.

Patience wept. She didn’t need to hide her face or prevent her tears. So, as Matthew panted and thrust, she let them fall—tears for the pain and the passion. Tears for the emptiness banished at last. Tears for joy, and tears for love—the love christened with blood, and the love that poured from Matthew’s eyes as he cried out and filled her, at last, with the fluid of creation.

He was hers.

 

 

He wanted to fuck her again—and again, and again, and again.

Matthew’s heart tightened at the incomparably sweet and sensual vision she presented.

They stood in the water closet attached to his dressing room, and she had her foot resting on the edge of the bathtub. Her green eyes regarded him tenderly, her mane of red curls in wild disarray. Long spiral locks fell down her back and around her shoulders, while smaller curls fell over her brow and corkscrewed above her brilliant green eyes. Her lips were swollen from kisses and her cheeks were flushed with the residue of her passion. One black stocking still hugged her left leg, and her pale nudity displayed her still blushing bottom most prettily. God, but he loved her.