Warren ghosts his teeth over my bottom lip for a gentle bite, and by the time a gasp is wrung from me, the prickles of his cheeks abrade my neck. The collar of my nightdress doesn’t deter him from dropping small, heated kisses along my collarbone. It shouldn’t feel this good to have a man on top of me and doing these things, but a growing wildness within urges me to throw my arms around him and beg for more of his weight.
“And these,” he groans into my breasts. “I haven’t seen all of them just yet, but there’s no doubt they’re just as beautiful as the rest of you.” His lips brush the covered peak of one nipple and lightly suck.
“Warren!” I inhale sharply at the lightning bolt of pleasure so strong that my feet jerk. Even the one thrown about his shoulder.
“I think…” An unfamiliar expression rests on his face as he pulls back from my breast. His tongue makes an unhurried pass about his lips. “I think I just tasted your milk.”
“You just—you tasted my milk.” The good feelings from before crumble into humiliation as he licks the remnants from his thumb. This isn’t how I thought the night would go. From nervous anticipation to hopeful pleasure only to dissolve into utter embarrassment. Maybe all my encounters with men are destined to be less than enjoyable. “I’m sorry. I don’t think that’s something I can stop, so perhaps you shouldn’t…”
“What are you sorry for? I love it.” Warren’s slow smile fades into hesitation. “You didn’t? Or is it too much like when…”
“No!” I vehemently answer when he glances towardsEmmaline. “It’s different. I can’t explain how, but it just is.” I was all too aware that my husband was at my breast instead of my child, and the feeling couldn’t have been less similar.
“Good.” He gives the same treatment to the other breast and comes away with mischievous satisfaction when I jolt and spit out his name again. “Couldn’t have that one feeling left out, now could we?” It’s clear he doesn’t expect an answer when he sucks with more intent, eyes closed in bliss as if he truly loves the taste.
When he’s had his fill, my stomach is next to receive his ministration. It tickles, pulling a light laugh from him when my muscles contract. Then he plants a slow, sensuous kiss to each hipbone, tongue dragging a path between the two points. “I love these hips. They’ve been filling out your dresses in the best way lately.”
He moves lower, and I stiffen all over because he’s back on his knees and there’s only one place left—between my legs.
“It’s okay, wife,” he murmurs huskily into my thigh. “This is our wedding night and we’re learning together, remember? Open yourself up and show me where to touch you.”
I draw a deep breath.
The fire crackles.
An owl hoots outside.
And then I do as my husband says, using both hands to shakily spread myself to his view. His eyes darken further in the dim light, and he looks so…so hungry for me.
This is different, I remind myself as the vulnerability tries to creep in. This is Warren.
“Goddamn, wife. So damn beautiful.”
His gravelly words melt away any resistance, and I allow my fingers to search for that special spot hidden away. Imoan softly when I find it, and Warren homes in with intense observation.
“Right there?” A roughened fingertip joins mine, and the sensation intensifies because the touch isn’t my own. “That’s where it feels best?”
A brokenyesis my reply.
“Such a good wife,” he praises, and my hands fall away as his thumb takes their place. “Letting me pet this pretty pretty pussy. Does that feel good?”
Mhmmis all I can manage as I seize the sheets again. Because it’s more than good. It’s amazing. And there’s nothing fake about the noise I just made.
“Can’t talk?” Smugness is heavy in his voice, but I don’t mind. He deserves all of it and more because my entire being is focused only on the icy tingling between my legs. “That’s okay.” Through a haze, I vaguely feel his arm snake beneath my other thigh to brace himself. “When I’m done, I want you to tell me which is better—touching or kissing.”
Then his head dips.
Nothing could have prepared me for the wet swipe of his tongue as he licks a firm, slow line from top to bottom, or for how my thigh muscles strain to make room for his broad shoulders as he settles in.
Licking becomes kissing, and my vision turns black as cold heat flashes across my body. “That feels…so good,” I whimper. Unbelievably so. A clear string of wetness stretches between my core and his mouth as his head lifts. Did that come from me or from him?
“Good, because I’m just getting started,” Warren says roughly before returning to his task. I briefly worry about how I taste, but clearly he doesn’t have the same concern. Not with those sounds—sweet Christ, the wet and obscenesounds that follow as he hitches my hips and drags me closer to get more of me.
Arms restless, I hug myself in a pitiful attempt to ground my feelings, but that only serves to heighten my awareness of my sensitive nipples as the cloth of my nightdress abrades them. The tips harden further every time his tongue circles the place I showed him, and if I were braver, I’d rub them in search of relief.
He pulls my thighs wider, pressing me even further into the bed. And before I can protest at the stretch, that devilish mouth of his suckles between my legs like he did at my breast. The pleasure is so keen it hurts, and I lose what little air my lungs hold. Barely mindful of Emmaline sleeping mere feet away, I jackknife upwards and wiggle a hand between us with a strangled cry of surprise. “Ah! What are you doing?”
But if I thought that would deter him, I was wrong. Very wrong.
