She bent down and kissed his chest. His muscles jumped and locked. His hands came up to cup her head, his fingers tunneling into her strands and grasping her head, not guiding her movements. He merely held on as if he needed a lifeline, a connection to her.
It spurred her on. She nuzzled through a smattering of springy chest hair and closed her mouth over his nipple. It hardened to a pebble in her mouth and she bit softly, squeezing her legs to relieve the tension mounting there. He noticed, and ran his hands over her shoulders, down her naked sides to come to rest over her hips.
“Straddle me, darling.” He purred, and she was already throwing a leg over his hips before he had even completed the sentence.
It would be so easy, and she was so eager to just slither forward and take his rod inside her. It would feel so good to have her flesh stretched and filled like that. His skillful hands were there, his fingers dancing over her drenched core and her hips moved of their own accord while her breath stuttered in her chest.
She wanted to encourage that caress. Lean into it, ride the wave until she shattered on the shores of pleasure, but that would mean no more exploring. When would she have a chance to have him like this again? Willing and pliant under her hands?
With great effort, she scuttled back out of his reach, while holding his hand away. He made a noise of protest, but she held on.
“Not yet. Later.”
Holding his hands on either side of his head, she leaned forward, resting her torso over his, and kissed his throat, licked it, tasting the male essence of him, feeling the rumble of his groan against her lips. It was a heady feeling.
She found his mouth and kissed him. Tenderly at first, her lips brushing his softly. He opened his mouth, and she bit his lower lip. So soft, so delicious. She felt his muscles bunching, tendons flexing in his wrists, and knew how much effort it was costing him to lay passive under her ministrations. His rod was an iron brand in her belly. He was breathing deeply, his tongue coming out to meet hers and lick her lips with every brush.
She deepened the kiss, drinking deeply of his mouth, their tongues dancing together. This kiss, their kiss, was familiar, but no less exciting for that. If anything, familiarity lent depth, an extra layer of intimacy to it.
She tore her mouth from his to continue her exploration. Down his chest, over his rippled abdomen, around his shallow navel. His penis was there, lying against his stomach, swollen and stiff. She traced a thick vein up the length of his member and he grunted while his rod flexed helplessly. She held it in her hands, her fingers not quite able to encircle him completely. The head protruded arrogant and proud over her hands. It was slick, moisture seeping from the slit at the top.
She had the wanton urge to put her lips there. Lick that drop of moisture. Taste him. Feel against her tongue the smooth texture of skin stretched taut. Did she dare? Acting on pure instinct, she leaned down and licked him, closed her lips around him, sucking hungrily.
He made a strangled sound, as if he was in extreme pain, or ecstasy, and his hands came to grip her shoulders. Emboldened by his response, she continued to suck, lick, explore, taste his satiny skin.
“Abby, please. I’ll spill in your mouth if you continue that.” His voice was a raw whisper. Spill in her mouth? That sounded interesting. But she wanted his seed in her. Deep in her womb, where it could start a baby. Not because that was the deal. But because, she realized with startling clarity, she wanted to have this man’s child. Better not to waste his seed now. There would be other times.
Rising on her knees, she positioned herself over his member, notched it at her entrance, and sank down, sliding him home. They both gasped at the rightness of the union. What an extraordinary thing, to have a part of a human being inside you. Did that make them part of each other? Is that what they meant by becoming one flesh?
She could just stay here like this. With him inside her. Feeling the connection, the togetherness. But soon the need to move, to reach for that peak of incredible pleasure, overtook her. Drove her. She started grinding against him. Finding the angle that gave her the most pleasure. Stroking herself on his rod.Oh, right there. If she slid back and forth, the base of his member caressed her bud with each stroke.
His hands caressed up her thighs, leaving a trail of warmth and excitement in their wake. Now they were sliding up her torso, cupping her breasts. He rolled her nipples between his fingers in just the right way to create exquisite pleasure that shot, like a lightning strike, from her breasts to her loins, toward that point where they joined.
Her movements became more urgent. Harder. Faster. Rubbing against that spot, feeling the heaviness of his member inside her, touching, stimulating a place inside that spread joy and excitement throughout her.
She was flying. Shooting up into the air and exploding into a million sparkles of lights, like a firework. She moaned, gasped, shouted. The sounds escaping her throat were barely human as her core contracted and spasmed while ripples of pleasure coursed through her.
Somewhere in the middle of that cataclysm, she was aware of his rod jerking and spurting warmth inside her. The peak passed, leaving her boneless, almost insensible. Sprawled on top of him as she floated on a cloud of bliss.
She was aware of his hands resting on her back, a warm, welcome touch now that her body was cooling after the passion. He was still inside her. At one point, she thought she felt a light kiss on her head, but was not sure. Sleep was dragging her down into its velvety depths. She had never felt as comfortable, as comforted as right now, lying naked and vulnerable in her husband’s arms.
But then he rolled her onto the side, disentangling their bodies and departing with a brief good night. Leaving her cold and embarrassed, lying there all alone.
Damn, she had lost control again.
***
COLIN STUMBLED TO HISbedchamber. His back was aching, but it was nothing compared to the agony in his heart. A feeling of emptiness spread through his chest like poison.
He shouldn’t feel so. Not after the most shattering lovemaking of his life. She had been so passionate and bold. Everything he had ever dreamed she could be. Just thinking of the way her hands had touched him.Her mouth... oh god. Her mouth on his cock. The memory, the phantom feel of her lips on him, was enough to make him harden again. Even after the spectacular release they had just enjoyed. He should feel satisfied. Filled with warmth. Elated even. Right?
And he would. He would feel that way and more. If they had not been making love in the dark. If their lovemaking had not happened right after his wife's encounter with an old flame.
If he could be sure it was him she was thinking about during the height of passion.
