“Yes.” She kissed him hard, surprising herself. She was desperate to feel him, to feel his body against hers, to be with him. “Make me your wife.”
He matched her passion, devouring her mouth with dominating kisses. Heated flushes warmed her body. They fought to kiss and touch every inch of each other.
She panted, rocking her hips against him. His large hands took her waist and lifted her. Lowering her, he started to slip inside her. A moan escaped her as he stretched her slowly.
“Are you hurt?” He paused, stroking her buttocks.
“No. It’s wonderful.”
Still, he inched deeper gently, watching her face with awe.
Her body was tender and sensitive, or maybe she was simply nervous, but the tenderness became sheer pleasure. When he was sheathed in her, a low groan rumbled from his chest. He held her still for a long time before kissing her savagely. And she loved it.
She did her best to move her hips with him. Water splashed around as he thrust faster and deeper. She sank her fingernails into his back as a combination of maddening need and burning pleasure overwhelmed her. She rocked her hips faster.
He became more urgent until her body shook with a powerful release. She cried out and sagged against him. He roared his pleasure, quivering against her.
Just like the vines she kept weeding out, she clung to him as if her own existence depended on that. She felt that, if she let him go, she would never find him again. Or herself.
The water lapped at their bodies lazily in stark contrast to the frenzy that had taken them.
He kissed her neck and breasts without hurry, trailing his soft lips over her skin. Each gentle brush of his lips and tongue left her breathless and her skin tingling.
Where did all that pleasure come from? It must have been hidden inside her body, lingering, waiting for this perfect moment to come out like a torrent engorged by a summer storm.
“I love you, Anthony.” The words flowed naturally out of her because they were true.
He hugged her tightly, swallowing before answering. “I love you, wife of mine.”
