Heartbreaker by Linda Howard Page B

of his bare skin under her hands,
against her body, but his mouth on her breasts was driving her mad with
pleasure, and she couldn't control herself enough to strip the shirt away.
Every stroke of his tongue sent wildfire running along her nerves, from her
nipples to her loins, and she was helpless to do anything but feel.
    Then he left her, rising up on his knees to
tear at his shirt and throw it aside. His shoes, socks, pants and underwear
followed, flung blindly away from the bed, and he knelt naked between her
spread thighs. He stripped her panty hose and panties away, leaving her open
and vulnerable to his penetration.
    For the first time, she felt fear. It had
been so long for her, and sex hadn't been good in her marriage anyway. John
leaned over her, spreading her legs further, and she felt the first shock of
his naked flesh as he positioned himself for entry. He was so big, his muscled
body dominating her smaller, softer one completely. She knew from harsh
experience how helpless a woman was against a man's much greater strength; John
was stronger than most, bigger than most, and he was intent on the sexual act
as males have been from the beginning of time. He was quintessentially male,
the sum and substance of masculine aggression and sexuality. Panic welled in
her, and her slim, delicate hand pressed against him, her fingers sliding into
the curling dark hair that covered his chest The black edges of fear were coming
closer.
    Her voice was thready, begging for
reassurance. "John? Don't hurt me, please."
    He froze, braced over her on the threshold of
entry. Her warm, sweet body beckoned him, moistly ready for him, but her eyes
were pleading. Did she expect pain? Good God, who could have hurt her? The
seeds of fury formed deep in his mind, shunted aside for now by the screaming
urges of his body. For now, he had to have her. "No, baby," he said
gently, his dark voice so warm with tenderness that the fear in her eyes faded.
"I won't hurt you."
    He slid one arm under her, leaning on that
elbow and raising her so her nipples were buried in the hair on his chest.
Again he heard that small intake of breath from her, an unconscious sound of
pleasure. Their eyes locked, hers misty and soft, his like black fire, as he
tightened his buttocks and very slowly, very carefully, began to enter her.
    Michelle shuddered as great ripples of
pleasure washed through her, and her legs climbed his to wrap around his hips.
A soft, wild cry tore from her throat, and she shoved her hand against her
mouth to stifle the sound. Still his black eyes burned down at her.
"No," he whispered. "Take your hand away. I want to hear you,
baby. Let me hear how good it feels to you."
    Still there was that slow, burning push deep
into her, her flesh quivering as she tried to accommodate him. Panic seized her
again. "Stop! John, please, no more! You're… I can't…"
    "Shh, shh," he soothed, kissing her
mouth, her eyes, nibbling at the velvety lobes of her ears. "It's okay,
baby, don't worry. I won't hurt you." He continued soothing her with
kisses and soft murmurs, and though every instinct in him screamed to bury
himself in her to the hilt, he clamped down on those urges with iron control.
There was no way he was going to hurt her, not with the fear he'd seen in the
misty green depths of her eyes. She was so delicate and silky, and so tight
around him that he could feel the gentle pulsations of adjustment. His eyes
closed as pure pleasure shuddered through him.
    She was aroused, but not enough. He set about
exciting her with all the sensual skill he possessed, holding her mouth with
deep kisses while his hands gently stroked her, and he began moving slowly
inside her. So slow, holding himself back, keeping his strokes shallow even
though every movement wrung new degrees of ecstasy from him. He wanted her
mindless with need.
    Michelle felt her control slipping away by
degrees, and she didn't care. Control didn't matter, nothing mattered but the
heat that