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“Ah . . .”
“Or no?” She slid her hand into his smallclothes and found him hard and heavy, waiting just for her. Warmth pooled at her center in anticipation. She’d have him tonight—have him the way she wanted.
He closed his eyes as if in agony and said quite distinctly, “No.”
“Oh, good,” she murmured. “I concur.”
And she slipped her other hand into his breeches to cradle him.
He swayed a little before planting his feet.
She was caught in discovery. Oddly, her hands had stopped shaking, finally, now that she touched the most intimate portion of his anatomy. She could feel the crisp hair brushing the back of her fingers, and her palms were filled with hot flesh. She wrapped her left hand about his width and explored him with her right. Soft skin, granite-hard muscle beneath. The slight bumps of veins, a wide flanged head. She ran her fingertips across that head, sensitive skin to sensitive skin, and felt the tiny slit. The moisture that seeped from that slit. She rubbed the moisture in little circles and at the same time squeezed with her left hand.
“Oh, God,” Vale implored. “You make me weak, my lady wife.”
She smiled, a secret, feminine smile of triumph, and stood on tiptoe, his cock still in her hands. “Kiss me, please.”
His eyes opened, and he looked at her almost wildly. Then he grasped her arms and bent his head to kiss her. His mouth was open, wet, a little desperate—exactly the way she wanted it. She made a humming sound of pleasure in her throat and stroked Sat ope him firmly. He groaned and thrust his tongue into her mouth, his cock into her hands. She captured his tongue and sucked. His big hands dropped to her bottom, squeezing. A thrill of pure pleasure rushed through her center.
He pulled back suddenly, gasping. “Sweet my heart, maybe we should . . .”
No. She shoved his breeches down, off his hips. She examined his beautiful, bared cock and felt her internal muscles squeeze at the sight.
“Melisande . . .”
His penis was a dark red, proud and erect, his balls drawn up tight and hard beneath. She placed her thumb under the head, in that small, sensitive indent on the underside. “What?”
“Don’t you . . . ?”
She glanced back up at him. Her husband looked a little dazed.
“No,” she said quite firmly, and leaned forward to lick his left nipple.
He jerked in reaction and pulled her toward him, smashing her hands between them.
She relinquished her prize and, placing her palms on his chest, pushed him backward to a chair. He stumbled a step before bending impatiently and stripping off his breeches and smallclothes, followed by hose and shoes. He sat splendidly naked in the chair and then seemed to realize she was still dressed.
“But—”
“Shh.” She laid a fingertip across his mouth, feeling the humid brush of his breath, the smooth satin of his lips.
He closed his mouth, and she stepped back. Her hands went to the laces of her bodice, and he watched intently as she took off her clothes. The room was hushed, save for the pop of the fire and the sound of his breathing. The firelight highlighted his big body. His broad shoulders more than spanned the chair back. His long fingers gripped the arms of the chair tightly, as if he held himself in check. The muscles in his upper arms swelled with the tension. And below . . .
She caught her breath as she stepped from her skirts. His hard thighs braced his erection, which pointed aggressively up. The sight made her legs tremble, made her core heat and liquefy. She met his gaze, and he no longer looked dazed. He stared at her, intent, focused, no trace of a smile on his wide, expressive mouth.
She took a steadying breath and let her stays drop to the floor. She wore only a silk chemise now, fine as a dragonfly wing. As she stepped toward him, he started to rise from the chair. But she put a hand on his shoulder and placed one knee by his hip in the chair.
“Do you mind?” she asked.
She was gratified that he had to clear his throat. “Not at all.”
She nodded and raised the hem of her chemise to her hips before climbing into the chair. She straddled his lap carefully and let the chemise fall. Then she sat. For a moment, all she could do was savor the heat of his thighs against her bottom. She could feel his body hair tickling her most intimate parts.
Then she smiled and wove her arms about his neck. “Will you kiss me?”
“God, yes,” he growled.
He pulled her tightly against his chest, his arms strong around her back. She almost giggled; it was so wonderful to finally be held by him like this. But then he brought his mouth to hers and all laughter fled. He kissed her as if he were a starving man, and she was the first bite of bread he’d seen in weeks. His mouth was wide, moving over hers, gasping for breath, nipping at her lips. His hands were hard on her, and she wondered if she’d have bruises in the morning.
