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Still dazed with the onslaught of pleasure he had found with her, Romulus forced himself to distance from her and lie by her side. Completely lost, he wondered how on Earth she was a virgin after four years of marriage. To find her untouched made the caveman in him rejoice that she gave herself to him alone.
His head turned to her, and he took in her delectably tousled state. “Explain.” He instructed without an ounce of constraint.
Her gaze rolled to him, bashfulness in the depths of her liquid gaze. “Charles could not-“ She inhaled soundly. “He did not-“ She passed her hand over her brow as if impatient with her difficulty.
“He was incapable of erections.” Romulus helped.
She nodded and sighed. “We tried many times, to no avail.”
“You could have sought for an annulment.” The thought of this passionate woman condemned to an empty marriage riled him. Though he would of complain, he thought, with guiltless smugness.
She shook her head, hopeless. “He would have none of that for the shame it would bring him.”
“Selfish bastard!” He muttered under his breath.
“Refused to see a doctor, too.” She volunteered.
Well, he would see to that she did not lack for sensual experience, since he suspected he would be coming back for more. Much more.
He left the bed for the chest of drawers, on which lay a basin and towels. After moistening one, he came to bed.
Uncovering her sinuous silhouette, he sat on the edge of the mattress. “We need to wash you.” The sheet exhibited some drops of blood. Delicately, he cleaned her, as his eyes openly admired her rounded breasts, flaring hips and well-shaped legs. Their eyes collided with a thousand undercurrents rushing between them.
The cloth back in its place, he lay down and snuggled her to him, covering them. “Sleep now.” His face merged in her scented riotous ringlets. “It has been a long day.”
She nodded, and relaxed into him as they fell into a fitful sleep.
* * *
The faint light of dawn sieved through the curtains when Romulus lifted his dark long lashes. Annabel lay over him, her hair spread everywhere, legs tangled to his, her head on the crook of his neck, she breathed peacefully. Bed sheets and coverlet wrinkled and messy, witnesses of their night together.
Turning his head, his lips grazed the silkiness of her shoulder, his hands roaming the indentation of her spine.
“Hm.” She moaned moving on him, rubbing his already needy erection.
“Annabel?” Hoarse from sleep and something else.
“Yes.” She murmured on his skin.
“Are you sore?” She lifted her head to look at his face.
“No.” Her hand exploring his chest. “Why?”
“I want you again.” Due to the… newness of the situation for her, he refrained from taking her a second time, though he wanted it badly.
“I thought you would never say it.”
If possible, he hardened even more with her enthusiastic response and her caresses. The woman was a powder keg, indeed.
“Come ride me, hellion.”
He brought her over him, bed sheets falling from them, her curvaceous body entirely for his appreci
ation.
Looking at him blankly, he understood her quizzical expression. He positioned her over his eager member and lowered her slowly. She adjusted her hips just the right angle to torture him. His hands went to her mounds, and she started moving.
“It is good.” She breathed. “But you are too far.”
