Darkest Fire by Tawny Taylor

hot and tight all over. His balls felt like lead. His cock was so hard he could bust concrete with it. And his blood was searing every cell in his body. He needed release and he wanted this woman, his wife, so badly his teeth ached from his clenched jaw. Instead of having to force himself to carry out an act he was sure he would dread, he was struggling to hold it together long enough to give her a little pleasure.
    Breathe, asshole. You’re going to scare her right out of that bed, out of your house. Then what?
    He took a few slow, deep breaths. They didn’t help much, but the burning in his blood eased a fraction of a degree. In some respect, this was no different than a scene with a new submissive. It was his responsibility to serve her needs first. She needed patience, tenderness, gentle kisses, and no matter how fucking bad his balls hurt, he was going to give her that.
    One step at a time.
    He hesitated at the side of the bed for a heartbeat, or two, or three, then peeled the covers back and climbed in, throwing them over himself.

    Rin tensed.
    Drako was warm. And the hair on his leg tickled when his calf grazed against hers. She settled on her back as he rolled onto his side and propped his head on a fist, his bent arm displaying a flexed bicep to full advantage. “I won’t hurt you.”
    “I know.”
    “Are you afraid?”
    “Of you? No. There’s no reason to be.”
    He cupped her cheek and rolled toward her, staring into her eyes so deeply she felt a little vulnerable and uneasy. He moistened his lower lip with his tongue and kissed her again.
    This time, it was like she was kissing a different man.
    His mouth was soft, his touches fleeting, almost too timid. It tickled, but at the same time, those tickles made her squirm. Shivers made the skin of her arms prickle.
    They kissed for a while, like two teenagers, hands shyly exploring each other’s shoulders, arms. He didn’t touch her breasts again, and that made the aching between her legs even more pronounced. He cupped her cheeks, he touched her neck, he caressed her arms. She did the same. It went on so long, she began to wonder if he intended things to go any further. She tried to relax and enjoy, appreciate the simple pleasure of their breaths blended, bodies pressed together, tongues exploring the decadent flavor of each other’s mouths. She’d forgotten how good this felt and how frustrating it could be.
    When he turned her head and nipped on her earlobe, she moaned. The warmth between her legs was a pounding ache now, and she needed something there, pressing against her flesh.
    “I can’t . . .” she mumbled as she arched her neck to give him access to the most tender spot, just below her ear.
    He shifted off her, exactly what she didn’t want, and caught her chin in his fingers, pulling it down. When she opened her eyes, she found his gaze troubled, full of uncertainty.
    “No, don’t stop.” She curled her fingers around his wrist and pulled, coaxing his hand down lower, lower still. She left it on her breast and once again, arched her spine, pressing the burning flesh into his palm.
    His nostrils flared a tiny bit, enough to barely be noticed. A wash of pink tinted his cheeks. “I don’t want to rush you.”
    “I don’t know what you define as ‘rushing,’ but I can tell you this—I was ready after the first kiss.” To show him exactly how hot and wet he’d made her, she took his hand and placed it between her thighs.
    The pressure was oh so good. She actually groaned, parted her legs a little wider, and prayed he wouldn’t make her wait another second.
    The pink stain on his skin darkened a few shades.
    He pulled the covers off her, the sensation of the slick cotton dragging across her burning skin only making things worse. She couldn’t remember ever wanting a man so badly. It was almost bad enough to make her weep. Or beg. Or throw him onto his back and climb on top of him.
    What was he waiting for? Did he dread it so much he