A devastated look entered his eyes.
Do not leave me again.
His pain reached out to her, and she swallowed back a sob. “Oh…Ilie.” It almost felt too easy to sense his feelings. Too easy, she thought achingly, but she would never, ever take it for granted.
Never, she thought.
From this day forward, she would only give him pleasure.
And with that thought, Soleil looked up into his eyes and said shakily, “Take me.”
Ilie jerked. He had only wanted her naked so he could give her pleasure and feel her come, feel her become alive in his arms.
Her smile wobbled. “Milord. Ilie. Take me—-”
His jaw hardened. “But the curse…” Even though it had been nullified, it had still taken its toll on her body, and he could sense which parts of it still ached like they had been pummeled from the inside. “You are still hurt—-”
“Just as you are still hurt.”
Dammit to hell, she was making it too hard.
And then he felt it—-
Soleil, rubbing herself against his chest, and she whispered achingly, “Milord, please—-”
His control snapped.
One moment and his clothes were gone, thrown across the room. Another moment, and he was reaching for her still-sensitive folds, stroking them until they were slick with desire yet again. Bending his head, he captured her mouth in a hungry kiss, savoring the taste of her mouth. She wept as she kissed him back, and over and over she said in their merged minds, I love you. I love you. I love you.
Shuddering, he tore his mouth away from hers and moved down to squeeze her breasts up before gorging on them. Other women knew him to be a polished lover, but with his heartkeeper, he was frantic and feverish in his need to possess her.
It was as if the mere taste of heartkeeping had broken the dam of his obsession, and now he could not get enough of her.
He would never get enough of her—-
And that was alright.
Because she loved him, and he loved her.
“Ilie.” Her own desire underlined her voice, and the sound told him it was time.
Poised above her, he told her hoarsely, “It will hurt, maybe even more because of your injuries.”
She smiled tremulously up at him. “I don’t care.” And even though her voice trembled a little as well, he could also see that she meant every word. “I want to be yours.”
Ilie sank into her in one deep, sure stroke—-
He heard her suck in her breath, saw her eyes widen with pain—-
But Ilie pushed deeper, plunging more and more of his cock in until it finally tore past her virginal barrier.
Soleil’s fingers dug crescent marks into his back as her body shook at his possession.
“You are mine.” His voice was harsh and possessive, and his gaze was feral, more wolf than demon or man. It should have scared her, but it didn’t.
Instead, her lips curved in the sweetest and most loving of smiles.
Her blue eyes glowed.
“Yes,” she breathed. “I am yours.”
How perfect she was for him!
It destroyed him anew, completely demolished his control, and pushed the human side of him all the way to the back, together with his demonic nature. All that was left was the wolf, and it was ravenous for her body, her heart, her soul.
He began to fuck her, every plunge of his cock meant to mark her as his territory. He began to possess her, branding her with his kisses, his caresses, his thrusts.
He was wild for her, and she—-
The way she stared up at him with eyes clouded with desire—-
The way she kept tossing and turning her head on the pillow, her hair spread out like gold silk against the whiteness of her sheets—-
The way her legs snaked around his waist, the way her hips began to rise to meet his cock—-
The way she started panting his name—-
His proper little Soleil was as wild for him.
“Mine,” he growled.
This Soleil was for his eyes only, he thought possessively.
He fucked her as hard and as deep as he could.
And then his hips began furiously pumping over hers, and she was panting even more loudly, urging him with her breathy little cries—-
She clutched his shoulders as she started to come.
He sank into her one last time, plunging his cock so deep he reached her womb, and then he started to shoot his load into her.
And that had been her first inkling, Soleil thought sleepily hours later, of how insatiable her marquis could be. He had not let her up at all. He had made love to her over and over, and even though she had begged him to stop, thinking that she could not survive so much pleasure, he had not listened to her at all. He had kept making her come and come—-
Until she had been reduced into this—-
This limp, weak doll.
She could not move at all, too tired to even open her eyes. All Soleil could do was follow him, and right now the marquis had her head on his lap while he stroked her hair like she were a pet.