The Texas Ranger. Diana Palmer
He was slow, and deliberate, and thorough in his ardor. Her innocence was no match for his years of experience with women. He had her on his couch in no time, bare to the waist. While his mouth fed hungrily on her small, firm breasts, his hand had been under that silky fabric and the soft cotton briefs she wore under them.
She’d been fascinated by what he was doing to her. He could see it in her eyes, feel it in the nervous hands that clung to him as he undressed her. His shirt had been off, drawing her fingers to his broad, hair-roughened chest while he suckled her.
He’d wanted her for months. During that time, he hadn’t seen any other woman. He was aching, and he’d abstained while they were dating. It was inevitable that he was going to lose control.
She’d protested, once, weakly, when his hand went between them to the fastening of his slacks and undid it, so that he could push them away. But his knee had edged between her soft thighs and his mouth had moved back to cover hers, tenderly. When she felt him at the veil of her innocence, she stiffened a little, but her body was hot with desire, her hands were biting into his back, her mouth was moaning under the devouring pressure of his hard lips.
“Oh God, I need you,” he ground out as his lean hips began to push down. “I need you so much. Don’t…fight me, honey. Don’t fight!”
But his huskily whispered plea fell on deaf ears when he pushed again. She cried out, frightened and in pain.
“Too fast? I’ll be careful,” he said at her lips. “It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?”
“Marc…I haven’t ever been with anyone!” she sobbed.
He only laughed softly. She’d been with the boy she accused of raping her when she was fifteen. She was no innocent. But he was careful with her just the same. He didn’t want to turn her off, not when his own body was racked with desire.
He wrenched off the trousers and his boots while his mouth worked on her soft belly. He aroused her all over again, determined to make her want him as much as he wanted her, to stop her feeble protests, her lies.
She was shivering, begging him, when he finally slid between her long, trembling legs and positioned himself against her. He looked into her wide, dazed eyes.
“I’m going inside you,” he whispered blatantly. “I’m going deep inside you, Josie. Now. Now…now!”
His body was shuddering with each quick, hard motion of his hips, and he felt the pleasure rising in him. But he couldn’t penetrate her. She was sobbing, shivering, her voice at his ear whispering ardent encouragement, her hands on his buttocks, pulling, pleading.
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