The Virgin Huntress by Victoria Vane

have abstained from sexual congress.”
    Vesta felt her whole face, her entire being ignite with joy. “Then you mean you are all mine and only mine?”
    Hew chuckled. “I am delighted that you perceive it thus, for I had looked forward to the same declaration.”
    “But, Hew, you know I am only yours,” she whispered. “I was from the very moment I saw you. It’s just taken you so very long to know you are mine as well. But now you will be. In every way.”
    “Yes, Vesta,” he said, his voice growing low and husky again. “I have waited a very, very long time for this. So know that if you give yourself to me now, there is no turning back. And if I take you, I intend to have you in every possible way.”
    His face looked taut with strain; his chest rose and fell erratically. The pulse jumped in his neck. And his suggestion, wicked and wanton, caused a pool of heat to descend low in her belly. “Yes, Hew,” Vesta whispered, her heart fluttering and her voice breathless. “I wish only to please you...in every possible way.”
    “Then know also that you will be my wife.”
    “Yes, Hew,” she said on a sigh. “I will be your wife.”
    It seemed to be the answer he sought, the reassurance he required, for he summarily shed his breeches and joined her on the bed, pressing her into the mattress. She reached for him, but he took her hands in his own, entwining their fingers and raising them over her head.
    “While I cherish your enthusiasm, my dear, I want this to be pleasant for you too.” His lips brushed her cheek. “But it may not be if you do not give me full rein. Please, Vesta, for both of us , let me get to know your body and worship you at my own pace.”
    With those sweet words tickling her ear, Vesta closed her eyes and willed herself to passivity, sinking into the warm cocoon of his tender lovemaking as he feathered her face and neck with light kisses, his lips and tongue tickling and teasing until he found her mouth. He playfully kissed the corner. She opened her eyes and turned into him, seeking his mouth, and he pulled away with a reproachful look.
    “I understand,” she said, and he smiled back at her, testing her again as his lips met hers, first brushing, then melding, nipping, tasting, pulling her lower lip between his own. It was heavenly to be the object of such devotion, to be the recipient of his full and complete attention. It was what she’d dreamed of, and yet it was indescribably better than she ever could have imagined it to be.
    “I love the smell of you, Vesta,” he murmured, rooting her neck, his stubble slightly abrading her skin, making every inch of it come to life as he worked his way to her collarbone, tracing it with his fingers, kissing it from neck to shoulder and back, and then pausing to dip his tongue into the little hollow between. His hands had found her breasts again. He cupped and squeezed and filled her belly with queer and delightful sensations, but then his mouth...his glorious, hot, wet mouth followed. He was gentle at first, licking her nipples, tracing the tight buds with his tongue. She squirmed against him, willing him to do more, and he pulled back. “No, Vesta,” he said. “You must be still for me.”
    “Please, Hew,” she whispered.
    “Close your eyes.”
    “I will. Come back. I’ll be still, just please don’t stop again.”
    He placed his mouth on her nipple and drew it in, but then he seemed to grow ravenous, sucking and pulling until she whimpered. And then he went to the other. His hard thigh was wedged between her own, creating the most agonizingly sweet pressure against her sex. He suckled her breast, and the pressure became a throb of need. She ground her hips against his, seeking relief, and he released her nipple with an abrupt little pop that left her feeling breathless and bereft.
    “Now, Hew. You are torturing me,” she whimpered. “You must do something. Please,” she begged, “just take me. Take me now.”
    “I do not think