keened as he filled her, driving deep, deeper. Pain flared, sharp and bright and she twisted, trying to escape. Tears welled in her eyes and she squeezed them shut, tried to muffle her sob against the counter.
But he heard. Half lost, the soft, panicked cry penetrated Duke’s lust-fogged brain, slapping against him like an icy wave. His nostrils flared, catching the scent of pain, fear— Ana . Fuck, was he . . . ? He was—he was hurting her.
Damn it, damn it, damn it—he made himself stop, half of his aching length buried inside her snug heat. Sucking in a deep breath, he gathered her hair in his hand and pushed it aside, trying to see her face. She hid from him, shifting so that he could barely see her profile.
But she couldn’t keep him from seeing the tears.
“Ana?”
The silken wet sheath convulsed around him and Duke shuddered against the need to thrust, to ride that soft body and empty himself, but just fucking her—was that all he really wanted? No—hell, no, that wasn’t all he wanted. He wanted her to moan, to whisper his name and come for him. But he was moving too quick. She wasn’t ready—although, damn it to hell, she fucking felt ready, hot and soft as butter, melting all around him, sweet, tight and slick.
Too tight—somewhere in the back of his mind, an alarm sounded, but he blocked it out. Bending over her, he braced his elbows on the counter on either side of her body, careful to keep from moving his lower body. He skimmed his lips over her cheek and whispered her name.
She didn’t respond.
Laying his hand on her hip, he stroked upward, brushing her shirt away so he could caress the outer curve of her breast. He tried to tug the offending material away but she gasped and hunched her shoulders. “Shh . . . okay. It’s okay,” he whispered. Even though he wanted that damned shirt off, he let go. Gathering her hair, he pushed it over her other shoulder and lowered his lips, kissing, biting her neck gently. She shuddered . . . and then oh so slightly tilted her head to the side. That small encouragement was all he needed. Duke set his teeth in the curve where neck and shoulder joined and bit her, lightly. Ana gasped and shifted under him, raising her upper body a scant inch off the counter. He slid a hand under her, shoved the shirt away so he could palm her breasts, tug on her small, stiff nipples. She arched against him and moaned under her breath.
Slowly, he moved his hips, nudging another inch of his length inside her. Instantly, she tensed. Tight—
Too fucking tight— That alarm in the back of his head was screaming now. He gritted his teeth as her sweet pussy clenched around him and then he made himself step away. It was sheer agony, leaving the slick, wet glove of her pussy and his body was raging at him. She whimpered, her body shuddering. He crowded up against her, cuddling his cock against the soft curve of her ass.
“Ana.”
She darted a quick look at him over her shoulder and when she would have looked away, he caught her face, craning her neck around until their gazes locked. “How long?” he demanded as he wrapped his free arm around her waist.
Her lashes lowered, shielding her gaze. A growl slipped past his lips before he could stop it.
“How long?” he asked again, sliding his hand down and cupping her heat in his hand.
She didn’t answer.
Duke swore and let go, but only long enough to make her turn and face him. She tried to go around him, but he brought an arm up, caging her in. He tangled his hand in her hair, tugging her head back and forcing her to look at him. “How long, Ana? A few months? A few years . . . ever ?”
She stared at him, her dark purple eyes all but black in her face. She caught her lower lip between her teeth and Duke groaned, dipped his head and kissing her until she opened, until she stopped biting her lip and kissed him back. Then he caught that lower lip between his teeth, shuddering as he bit down.
“Tell me, damn it,” he
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