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“But…” She risked a protest.
“You have been keeping me hard for two years.” He hoped he sounded casual. “It’s nothing.”
She gaped at him lengthy. Her lips apart like this caused his blood to surge with the need to kiss her. His groins on fire, he pretended to be cool, calm and collected.
“I don’t understand.” Her surprise irrevocable. “You never…”
“I was a fool.” He confessed. “If I knew I had a she-wolf right under my roof, I'd have kept you in my bed every night, all night, all day.”
The flush on her cheeks denounced her reaction to his words. Her eyes widened, her lips parted. Devil carry him! She appeared to have gotten closer to him. Her tongue darted out to moisten her lips. Damnation! This was barely the first night of torture!
A swish of cloth under the covers, more precisely around his waist. His sash undone. He reached to fix it and encountered the cause: her exploring hand. They looked at each other in the intimate fire light. The rosewood pair of hers held a naughty glint in them. She was up to no good. Her hand continued its trajectory, sneaking in the cloth. It encompassed him, warm, firm, eager.
God!
“Aurelia.” He breathed in despair. “We cannot… you… Oh!” She advanced her caress; his eyes fell shut with a groan.
“We positively can.” Her merciless hand gave attention to all of him. He would have to go to his dressing room and… He sighed with her progressively more daring ministrations.
“How can you be so sure?” He could barely ask.
When he opened his eyes again, he saw she cradled him, he half over her. How did that happen, for pity’s sake?
“The tenants’ wives talk quite much when at work.” She furthered her torment of him.
“They do, don’t they.” His voice almost disappeared. Good, because he was capable of hold it back no longer.
As she pulled him, he glided in her; the world disappeared for them.
Conrad awoke in a cloud of fulfilment. He lay on his back, as Aurelia’s head rested on his shoulder. He smiled to himself. From now on, he would wake up by her side every morning; he would certify himself of it.
His wife rolled to her back, opening her eyes. The first lights of morning shed a grey hue through the curtains.
“Good morning.” He turned to her, enjoying her somnolent face. “Are you well?”
She stole a glance at him. “Good morning.” She devolved. “As usual, thank you.”
Her hair spread all over the pillow, a study in lasciviousness. Impulsively, he sneaked under the covers, reposing his face on her bare middle. Somehow, during the night, they got rid of clothing as he sought her again.
“Good morning, little one.” He murmured to her velvety skin.
“What are you doing?” Her sleepy voice reached him.
“Greeting our son or daughter.” He said matter-of-factly. His stubble mouth surrounded her navel.
She made a dubious sound, between gasp and something he did not identify. He repeated his caress.
“It tickles!” She laughed then. Laughed. Goodness gracious, he had never seen her laugh!
In a quick movement, he ousted from under the cover to regard her face. It blushed, a remnant of laughter still. He uncovered her middle, lowered his head and did it again, but this time he did not divert his gaze from hers. She laughed louder, a delicious flowing sound. He grazed her belly in a broader circle. Laughter pealed once more from her. This time, her fingers immersed in his tousled midnight hair.
He lifted his head and fixed his dark eyes on her, wishing he were a painter to immortalise this instant for eternity. She held his eyes, a twinkle remaining from her giggle.
“You are devastatingly beautiful when you laugh.” His throat constricted with something very kin to… exhilaration.
“Thank you.” She answered abashed.
“That is,” he corrected himself. “You are the most stunning woman in the world. But when you smile, I don’t stand a chance!” He did not take his eyes from her.
