Her own explosion hit her so hard she cried out, her body suddenly going rigid in his arms, and she knew she was sobbing with some kind of dark need, wanting more and more as everything spun out of control, light and dark, hard and soft. She made a choking sound, and a moment later he was there as well, spilling into her body, flooding her emptiness.
She was holding him so tightly her muscles felt locked, and then she suddenly let go, falling back against the mattress, soft and boneless, and he fell on top of her, his strong body covering hers, and she welcomed it. It was power, it was longing, it was safety, it was unimaginable pleasure. He was still inside her, and she wanted him to stay that way forever. For the first time in her life she felt part of something, of someone else, and she wanted to laugh out loud with the joy of it.
He pulled away from her, and she tried to pull him back, desperate to keep him with her. He wrapped his arms around her and smoothed her wet face with his fingers. “Dearest, you’re crying. I hurt you. ”
She shook her head, but for some reason she was totally unable to speak. She managed to smile through her tears, and she pulled his head down to kiss him, and he laughed against her tear-damp mouth. “You’re going to have me crying too,” he said. He rolled over on his back, taking her with him, and his hands were busy, stripping the chemise off her, so she was wearing nothing but her stockings and garters beneath the linen sheet. He was still wearing his clothes—his shirt and his breeches were open, and he divested himself of them quite handily, all without losing hold of her. And then he tucked her under his arm.
“You need to rest, poppet,” he whispered, his mouth against her ear. “I promise to do a much better job of it in a little while. ”
Her sleepy eyes flew open, and she found she could finally speak. “We’re going to do it again? Tonight?”
“Trust me, we could do it again immediately, but I think you need to rest. But we’re most certainly going to do it again tonight. And tomorrow morning, and midday, and early afternoon. And teatime, and…”
“I won’t be able to walk,” she said, alarmed and enchanted at the thought.
“Then I’ll carry you. Sleep now. ”
And she closed her eyes and slept.
She woke in the darkness, hours later, to see him leaning over her, an intent expression on his face. “You sleep too long,” he murmured. “I’ve been waiting for you. ”
“You could have woken me. ”
“Believe me, I tried,” he said ruefully. “We have work to do, my precious. There are all these delicious parts of you that I was in too damn much of a rush to appreciate. So now your turn. Though in fact, I may enjoy this even more than you do. ”
“Enjoy what?” she said, curious.
“Lie back, poppet, and I’ll show you. ”
She remembered the last time he showed her something, in the carriage so long ago, and she wondered if there could be anything more interesting than that. He kissed her mouth, slow and deep, and she felt tremors vibrate through her, as if he were still inside her. He moved his mouth across her cheek, and when he reached her earlobe he bit, hard, and the tremors grew stronger. He moved his mouth down her neck, biting the base of her throat lightly, and she reached her arms to pull him down on top of her.
“No, my sweet,” he said, placing her hands down on the bed beside her. “This is the one time when you do have to try to lie still. Trust me, you’ll enjoy it more that way. ”
Enjoy what more? she thought, confused. The act of sex? How could that possibly be more enjoyable?
And then his hands touched her breasts, and she tried to sit up, but he was very strong. “Lie back, poppet. We hadn’t gotten to your breasts yet, and they are absolutely delicious. Did I tell you I love your nipples? So dark, like black cherries. ” His h
ands cupped them, and one thumb flicked across the center. She jumped, keeping her eyes closed, as the sensation speared down between her legs.
“How do you know what color my nipples are?” she said in a raw voice. “It’s dark in here. ”
“You know I’m a very bad man, poppet. I may have peeked when you were asleep. Believe me, I’ve suffered for my sins. I haven’t been able to stop thinking of them in days. ” His thumb flicked the other nipple at the same time, and she let out a small squeak of shy pleasure. “Oh, you like that, do you?” he murmured. “I thought you might. This will probably be even better. ” He leaned over her, and she felt his long hair on her breasts, and then his mouth went where his thumb had been, latching on to her breast and sucking it deep into his mouth.
She jerked, stunned at the pleasure rippling through her. He had told her to keep her hands at her sides, and all she could do was clutch the sheets to keep from moving as the first swirls of something dark and dreamy began to stir through her body.
The more he sucked at her breast, the more she wanted, and when he moved to the other one she cried out, until he covered the abandoned breast with his hand once more, using his thumb and fingers to make her half-mad, and she could feel the sheet in her hands as she clutched it.
He lifted his head, and then blew softly on her wet nipple. “I want to put my mouth everywhere on your body, poppet. I want to taste you all over. And then I want my cock to follow. I want to do things to you no one has ever dreamed of doing. I want to have you so completely that no one else has ever existed, only you and me. ”
She made a soft, whimpering sound. He slid his hand over her stomach, and then down between her legs, in that wet, messy part of her, and she tried to close her legs, to keep him away, but he just laughed. “This is us, precious. Nothing to be shy about. ” And he slid his finger inside her.
She arched off the bed with a muffled shriek. His thumb touched her, higher up, and she began to writhe, feeling the darkness pulling closer, dark and sweet and rich, and he pressed harder, so cleverly, and she hid her face against his shoulder and let go, as wave after wave convulsed her body, sharper and harder than last time.
Author: Anne Stuart
He moved, and he was between her legs, and just as the last tremor died down he slid inside her. She was so slick from their earlier time that nothing stopped him, and he went in deep, so deep, and the tremors started all over again, and she could feel her body squeezing him tightly as he held still inside her.
They slowed, those wicked tremors, and just as they died he began to move, thrusting inside her, taking his time now, moving slowly, deliberately, pacing her, pacing him. He seemed to know just when she was about to explode again, and he would back away, slow the pace, then build it up again, so that she was no longer able to control herself. She let go of the sheets and clawed at him, begging him, and finally he lost his restraint, thrusting into her, over and over, and the final release caught her just as his did, and she opened as he filled her, her hands digging into his hips, trying to take even more of him. Greedy, selfish, wanting more.