Shooting Stars / Bound by Love Read Free Page A

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    Firm lips sucked at her, fingers fondled her, more wetness dripped between her legs. My God! she cried as a contraction ripped through her, starting in the center of her belly and working up to her breasts and down to the tips of her toes. Her hips bucked off the bed, but the dark-haired man between her legs held her steady. Christiania saw every color of the rainbow behind her eyelids, her breath rasped out of her in quick pants. Her moan turned to a scream she was unable to hold in. The pleasure coursing through her intensified until, all at once, she fell limp back to the bed.
    Christiania pinched her eyes shut. Surely she had not just experienced something so wonderful, so wicked. She had been reared at a nunnery. The only men she had seen since her first blood had been priests. She had just been married to an awful warrior.
    Her disarrayed thoughts were broken by a musky scent that drifted over her.
    She could not hide forever, so she opened her eyes to find out if death had finally taken her, to see if she had passed the test to gain entry to the gates of heaven.
    Christiania went still as stone at the astonishing sight before her.
    A man a naked, well-formed man, no less was propped up on his forearms above her. She had never seen a man who looked like this one. He was smaller than a warrior, but bigger than a man of the cloth. He was cleanly shaven and his hair was close-cropped and shining with cleanliness. Through her fear, she recognized pleasure at looking upon this man. He was quite beautiful to her.
    His mouth curved into a smile and Christiania shivered, her fear returning full force. I was wondering how you would taste, what noises you would make when you came, he whispered.
    She blinked, terror catching in her throat. Was her fate not heaven, but rather, hell? Was this man the devil coming to tempt her to evil?
    She scrambled as best she could from beneath him, pressing her back flat against the iron posts of the peculiar bed frame. Absently she noted the fine bed linens tangled beneath her. What luxury this man had, at least the wealth of a king. She had thought the warrior frightening, but at least her husband to be had been fully clothed. She had not permitted herself to think on his naked form. She had planned on keeping her eyes firmly closed when he rammed into her, as was his due.
    But this man was naked as a newborn. With one huge difference. Her eyes caught on the thick shaft between his legs, red and insistent. She gasped and covered her mouth with her hands. She was back in the barn watching the horses rut, only this time she was the mare.
    Where am I? Her words were muffled and anxious.
    The man laughed. Well aren t you fun? I love the accent, he said as he moved closer to Christiania. She flinched and confusion flashed in his eyes, before being replaced by a look of understanding and promise. You didn t 10
    tell me you liked to play games, Christina. His voice was soft and he ran one finger down her cheek.
    Christiania was simultaneously warmed and chilled by his gentle touch. Her years with the sisters compelled her to be honest. I do not know of any games, she said, her soft burr sounding in direct contrast to his unrecognizably clipped tones. And my name is Christiania.
    A small frown marked the man s brow. She hoped he believed her, that he could help make sense of her bewildering journey to his bed. In the silence, while she awaited his response, Christiania s eyes returned to the shaft between his legs. It had shrunk by an inch or so, but it was still enormous. His gaze followed hers and, oddly, a brilliant smile emerged across his lips.
    He got up out of bed and walked to a large dresser. Christiania knew she should feel relief that he was leaving her alone, that he was going to help her, but something inside of her mourned the loss of of something she couldn t name, something adjoined to the pulsing satisfaction that had taken her so unaware minutes before. With shame she recognized