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innocence, my conscience stops me.”
    “Don’t listen to your dratted conscience,” she whispered. In a heartbeat, she wrapped her legs around the backs of his thighs, trapping him so he couldn’t get away. Who was this wild woman who held a man captive? It was she, and she had never been so driven and obsessed in her life. Her roaring heartbeat filled her ears. Her throat was dry and tight with anguish. He couldn’t stop now. He just couldn’t . She wanted this—needed this. Something in her heart, or in her womb, or deep in her soul refused to allow him escape.
    “I’ve seen tentacles with less ability to cling,” he muttered. Then he let out a harsh breath. “You really want me to ruin you?”
    “Yes.” She thrust her hips up, taking his shaft deeper inside, and she gasped in shock at the sudden, lancing pain.
    He arched his hips forward, then he kissed her lips, her cheeks, her forehead. He stroked her cheek softly with one hand, rubbed his thumb against her nipple with the other. With so much sensation, she could barely think of the pain. And it eased. Now she felt fullness, as his shaft invaded a bit, pushing between the soft, wet walls. It seemed amazing to think his large penis could fit, even though they were intended for this.
    Her private place still tingled from the orgasm she’d just had, and she felt soooo sensitive. She whimpered as Sutcliffe stroked his shaft slowly in and out. It was a sensation that swamped her mind, that made her fingers and toes curl, made her sob and moan.
    He lowered his head, groaning. “You believe you don’t have a future,” he said hoarsely.
    “I don’t. Please.”
    But his penis slid back. With a quick jerk of his hips, he withdrew from her. He moved down her body and bent to nibble her nipples on the way. Octavia squeaked, but loved the way he tenderly took each pink tip between his lips. His fingers stroked her aching nub. But it wasn’t enough. She wanted to be filled by him.
    But he moved down her body, down to the crisp curls between her thighs. As a scholar of the world, her father had collected sketches and paintings of mating rituals. She had looked through them without Father’s knowledge. She thought she knew what Sutcliffe was about to do.
    Still, it was one thing to look at pictures, and another to watch a beautiful, naked man settle between her thighs, part her legs, and lower his mouth to her quim.
    He licked her there. With his tongue. She almost leapt off the bed. Of course, she couldn’t, for he was between her thighs, with his arms wrapped around her bare legs. She gasped as his tongue stroked her nether lips, then slid up, to touch the sensitive nub at the apex of her lips.
    His tongue was so hot and wet, and just a little rough.
    Pleasure exploded inside her. She shut her eyes and gasped as rainbow colors shot across the darkness. She cried with the pleasure. It rushed through her, a wave of sheer delight. “Oh, Sutcliffe! Oh heavens!”
    He laughed huskily. Then he moved over her.
    “ Now . Please now,” she commanded. “Do it now.”
    She cried out as he slid inside her. The ache eased at first, then he thrust and the twinge of agony came back, stronger and more intense. It was an ache that needed his long shaft stroking inside her. She clung to his back, holding him as tightly as she could.
    He drove his shaft deeply into her. His hips collided with hers, and when he thrust to the hilt inside her, he lifted her off the bed.
    She loved this. This was perfect. Heaven. All she’d dreamed. Sutcliffe’s eyes were a brilliant blue with desire. His mouth was tense. The harder he thrust, the more he sweat. It beaded on his head. It made his chest and back dewy.
    She loved this. She’d never dreamed sex would be so sweaty. That she would be panting as though she’d run miles. That it would smell so lush and exotic.
    He bent and captured her mouth, thrusting his tongue into her mouth at the same pace as he buried his shaft inside her. Each