And he could possibly be forgiven for his arrogant grin.
When he moved, things got even better.
She hadn’t expected to feel so stretched, but her body hummed from her recent orgasm, and in so many ways, she felt like she hadn’t recovered yet. Instead of returning to earth, each new little movement he made twitched and jerked her upward once more.
The balls of her feet found the backs of his calves, pressing him into the bed as he slowly worked in and out of her, each sensation eye-openingly brilliant.
“Pherson!” she gasped, but couldn’t force a coherent word past her lips. “Phers…” It turned into a moan as her head fell back against the mattress.
His movements increased pace until he was thrusting, each plunge revealing what a pale mockery her illustrations—and the Gray Lady’s explanation!—had been.
She found herself gasping each time he slid out of her, and instinctively pushing her core toward him, wanting to take him deeper, harder, faster. Soon he was grunting softly with each exhale, and that sound, more than anything, called her pleasure closer.
Knowing he was enjoying her body as much as she was enjoying his…?
The pressure was building behind her pearl, her heartbeat pulsing through her core as she welcomed him.
And then…it burst again.
This time she had enough warning to tighten her hold on his back, pulling him closer, squeezing her knees against his side to hold him in place. She lifted her head and buried it against his chest, forgetting how to breathe as white fire lit behind her eyelids.
Despite her attempts to hold him, he thrust again, and again, and a third time, each plunge forcing her higher and higher…until he roared her name and she felt a rush of warmth against her womb.
Inner muscles pulsing around him, she gasped against his chest, her entire body coiled tensely, centered on the place where they were joined.
But slowly, as the spasming eased, her muscles softened, turning to a sort of limp jelly, and she lowered her head to the mattress as she eased her hold on him.
Pherson had been holding himself above her, and as she relaxed, he finally allowed himself to as well, slipping out of her and rolling to one side. He gathered her in his arms and placed a kiss on her temple. And there they lay for a hundred heartbeats, each focused on their breathing and the pleasure still coursing through them as the air cooled their skin.
Finally, he stirred. “I feel as if I should say something profound.”
I love ye.
“Like what?” she whispered in return, tilting her head to one side so she could stare into his eyes.
One side of his lips curled wryly. “Something about I suppose missionary position wasnae quite as anticlimactic as I feared.”
She snorted softly and poked him in the side. “I think ‘tis fitting we started with the Gray Lady’s last position. She’ll be quite pleased to learn that. Because,” she raised her voice. “She absolutely had better no’ be spying on us right now. If I ever learned that she was, I would burn the manuscript.”
His eyes had widened in horror as her threat progressed, and now he lifted himself on one elbow to peer around her chamber. “Ye think there’s a ghost watching us…now?”
“No’ if she kens what’s good for her.” Wynda reached for him. “However, I feel as if I need to have a full report for her later.”
He flopped on his back, pulling her atop his chest, his hand warm against her skin. “A full report?”
“Aye,” she drawled with a naughty wink. “I think mayhap next we should try the Supplicant Swan, and after that the Gladiator and the—“
When he began laughing, she felt it in her own chest. Smiling, she stacked her hands under her chin and propped herself up.
“Ye think we should try a different position?”
“I think we should absolutely try every position in yer ghost friend’s book.”
“For science,” she agreed with a nod.
His smile was rueful. “But one thing she should’ve mentioned to ye was the need for a bit of recovery time in between. Give me a few minutes, aye, lass?”
She tugged the blankets over them both and decided she liked this; cuddling with him in a little cocoon of warmth.