herself reach for him, their fingers tangling in a hard clasp.
Nikolas led her into his bedroom. The furniture was made of gleaming dark wood, adorned only by touches of carved scrollwork. There were no paintings on the walls, only simple mahogany panels and one icon with the figure of a man riding a chariot drawn by red horses, silhouetted against a huge orange-red sun. The bed was covered in cream silk and white linen. A breeze blew lightly through the netting at the windows.
Nikolas took Emma to the wide bed, through flickering pools of moonlight and shadow. She sat on the edge of the mattress, letting him remove her shoes and stockings. He knew she was frightened. He could feel it in her rigid muscles, hear it in the uneven pace of her breathing. Emma made no sound as he finished undressing her. Finally her pale body was revealed in all its sleek beauty.
Emma half-rolled to her side and managed a shaking whisper. “Nikki, I…I need more vodka.”
He smiled faintly. “You've had enough,” he said, removing his own clothes. Emma's eyes squeezed shut as he joined her on the bed and pulled her stiff limbs against his. Drawing his warm hand down her back, he tried to soothe her shivering. “There's no need to be afraid. I'm going to show you how desirable you are. You said you wanted to feel better.”
“I felt better with my clothes on,” she said in a muffled voice, and he laughed.
“Put your arms around me.”
“I've never done this before.”
“Yes, I know. I'll be careful, dushka .” He kissed her shoulder, his mouth opening against her skin. Timidly Emma responded in kind, her tongue tracing a path of moist sensation along his neck.
Nikolas burned with the need to push inside her. Emma's body was slender and firm, her breasts more luxurious than he had expected. Her skin was vibrantly hot, as if she burned with an excess of life. There is boundless delight in the possession of a young, barely unfolded soul …Now, for the first time in his life, he understood that line by Lermontov, for he wanted to drown in her innocence, to devour her as a rare delicacy.
He drew his hands over her, skimming the hollows in the backs of her knees, the fragile structure of her ankles, the winged shape of her collarbone. Losing some of her fear, Emma slid her arms around his waist, fingertips digging into the hollows of his spine. Nikolas brushed warm kisses over her breasts and pulled the points of her nipples into his mouth, sucking, biting softly, making her gasp with pleasure. Only then did he touch the soft cinnamon curls between her thighs, combing gently through them. She was virginal and closed, but there was a betraying touch of moisture that made his body throb in anticipation.
The inquiring strokes of his fingers drew forth more dampness, more heat. Gently he pushed his middle finger inside her, stroking the soft, slick inner surface. She whimpered and froze beneath him, her legs stiffening.
“Does it hurt?” Nikolas whispered.
She gave a quick, bewildered shake of her head, robbed of the breath for words.
Nikolas kissed her parted lips and then drew back to watch as she relinquished herself to the rising tension, surrendering to him at last, helpless to whatever he wanted. She arched higher against his hand, inviting more, her head turning to the side as she closed her eyes and let the feeling rush over her. Skillfully he brought her to climax, relishing the involuntary clenching of her thighs around his hand.
When the last delicious spasm had left her, he cradled her face in both his palms. “You're still a virgin, Emma. Shall I stop?”
“No,” she said, her voice shaking. “Go on.”
Although Nikolas had known what her answer would be, he was still relieved. He lifted his body over hers, fitting his knees between hers, pushing them wide. He had never been with a virgin before, and it was more difficult than he'd expected. She was swollen and small, her flesh opposing his invasion. He pushed
Nikolas led her into his bedroom. The furniture was made of gleaming dark wood, adorned only by touches of carved scrollwork. There were no paintings on the walls, only simple mahogany panels and one icon with the figure of a man riding a chariot drawn by red horses, silhouetted against a huge orange-red sun. The bed was covered in cream silk and white linen. A breeze blew lightly through the netting at the windows.
Nikolas took Emma to the wide bed, through flickering pools of moonlight and shadow. She sat on the edge of the mattress, letting him remove her shoes and stockings. He knew she was frightened. He could feel it in her rigid muscles, hear it in the uneven pace of her breathing. Emma made no sound as he finished undressing her. Finally her pale body was revealed in all its sleek beauty.
Emma half-rolled to her side and managed a shaking whisper. “Nikki, I…I need more vodka.”
He smiled faintly. “You've had enough,” he said, removing his own clothes. Emma's eyes squeezed shut as he joined her on the bed and pulled her stiff limbs against his. Drawing his warm hand down her back, he tried to soothe her shivering. “There's no need to be afraid. I'm going to show you how desirable you are. You said you wanted to feel better.”
“I felt better with my clothes on,” she said in a muffled voice, and he laughed.
“Put your arms around me.”
“I've never done this before.”
“Yes, I know. I'll be careful, dushka .” He kissed her shoulder, his mouth opening against her skin. Timidly Emma responded in kind, her tongue tracing a path of moist sensation along his neck.
Nikolas burned with the need to push inside her. Emma's body was slender and firm, her breasts more luxurious than he had expected. Her skin was vibrantly hot, as if she burned with an excess of life. There is boundless delight in the possession of a young, barely unfolded soul …Now, for the first time in his life, he understood that line by Lermontov, for he wanted to drown in her innocence, to devour her as a rare delicacy.
He drew his hands over her, skimming the hollows in the backs of her knees, the fragile structure of her ankles, the winged shape of her collarbone. Losing some of her fear, Emma slid her arms around his waist, fingertips digging into the hollows of his spine. Nikolas brushed warm kisses over her breasts and pulled the points of her nipples into his mouth, sucking, biting softly, making her gasp with pleasure. Only then did he touch the soft cinnamon curls between her thighs, combing gently through them. She was virginal and closed, but there was a betraying touch of moisture that made his body throb in anticipation.
The inquiring strokes of his fingers drew forth more dampness, more heat. Gently he pushed his middle finger inside her, stroking the soft, slick inner surface. She whimpered and froze beneath him, her legs stiffening.
“Does it hurt?” Nikolas whispered.
She gave a quick, bewildered shake of her head, robbed of the breath for words.
Nikolas kissed her parted lips and then drew back to watch as she relinquished herself to the rising tension, surrendering to him at last, helpless to whatever he wanted. She arched higher against his hand, inviting more, her head turning to the side as she closed her eyes and let the feeling rush over her. Skillfully he brought her to climax, relishing the involuntary clenching of her thighs around his hand.
When the last delicious spasm had left her, he cradled her face in both his palms. “You're still a virgin, Emma. Shall I stop?”
“No,” she said, her voice shaking. “Go on.”
Although Nikolas had known what her answer would be, he was still relieved. He lifted his body over hers, fitting his knees between hers, pushing them wide. He had never been with a virgin before, and it was more difficult than he'd expected. She was swollen and small, her flesh opposing his invasion. He pushed
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