Mistletoe Wishes: A Regency Christmas Collection - Page 102

“Good?” he muttered, curving his hands over her lusciously round buttocks.

“More than good.”

He laughed softly, and returned his attention to that sensitive spot under her ear until she squirmed and whimpered. How he loved her wild responses, but these sweet preliminaries already melted into the next step.

Holding her shoulders, he lowered her to the bed. Then with sudden ruthlessness, he flung away his dressing gown. Her eyes widened in shock—and curiosity.

“Heavens above. Are you sure this is going to work?”

He laughed as he kneeled over her. “I’m sure, my love.”

With a naturalness that slammed his heart into his ribs, she stretched out beneath him and linked her hands around his neck. “I hope you’re right.”

He kissed her again. She was taut with uncertainty, but under his gentle persuasion, she gradually turned soft and liquid once more. He cupped her breasts, squeezing the plump flesh until she shook. She gasped when his eager hardness pressed into her belly.

“It’s all right,” he crooned, running his hand down her side. “Trust me.”

“I do,” she whispered, and lay with lovely looseness as her knees rose in invitation. Female musk filled the air until he felt like he drowned in Bess.

His hand glided lower, tracing the silky plain of her stomach, following the voluptuous curve of her hips, brushing the feathery hair that covered her sex. She jerked, and a husky moan escaped her. Her hands tightened on his shoulders, and she nibbled an incendiary trail down his neck. This innocent boldness stirred him to desperation.

He slipped his hand between her legs. She was hot and sleek, and when he explored the slick folds, she jolted with surprise.

“That’s wicked.”

“Should I stop?”

“Oh, no, never,” she murmured, and spread her legs to give him better access.

He teased at her center, until she was panting and restless, but he kept her from tumbling into climax. When he slid one finger into her satiny passage, she was tight. His heart gave a mighty thump, and his head swam with the need to claim her. But he clung to patience. Just.

When she adjusted to the careful invasion, he tested another finger. He worked her until she cried out in agitation and clung to him.

“Don’t make me wait,” she choked out. “I want you so much.”

He kissed her, clumsy with overpowering need. This slow awakening tantalized him to the edge of madness. “I want to please you.”

“You will.” She bit his shoulder hard enough to hurt. “You do.”

Rory raised his head to meet eyes glassy with arousal. It was time. Feeling like his life hung in the balance, he angled her knees higher and carefully lowered his hips.

Bess watched him steadily. Her lips were red and swollen from his kisses, and a hectic flush marked her cheekbones. He pressed through glorious resistance.

Slow. Slow.

He couldn’t bear to hurt her. Even as his blood pulsed with the command to take, to seize, to own, he held back.

When her body opened sumptuously to his, his restraint received its reward. Every shift, every touch, every sigh, all etched themselves on his soul. Bess was exquisitely hot, so marvelously responsive. The urge to thrust flayed him like a whip.

Her fingers dug into his shoulders. “I won’t break, Rory.”

What a bride fate had delivered. “Are you sure you’re ready?”

Despite the moment’s extremity, she managed a broken laugh. “I feel like I’ve been ready for a month.”

“Oh, my darling,” he groaned, and unable to resist, he thrust home.

***

Tags: Anna Campbell Romance
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