Page 72 of Dare it all for Love

Privately, Florence thought he did not need to try at all, for it was one thing to be told your husband would likely enjoy kissing you in all sorts of extraordinary places, and quite another to be on the receiving end of those kisses. His hot mouth and silky tongue descended along her body, leaving a cool trail of damp skin. Florence shivered, even though she was burning up, and knowing his destination did not diminish the shock of his mouth upon her, the sensation of his hot tongue swiping over her most private flesh. She cried out, that wanton sound also a revelation, but it was impossible to keep quiet when he did such wicked things.

“The walls are thick, love, don’t fret,” he said, and she heard the amusement in his voice as he correctly interpreted her concern. “No one will hear, I promise.”

She prayed he was right as he returned to his work and any vestige of sanity melted like butter on hot toast. Her concentration diminished, nothing outside of the feel of his mouth upon her registering as he licked and suckled. She grew dizzy with the decadent pleasure of it, her blood somehow effervescent in her veins as the sensation built and built and….

Her hips bucked so hard Henry held her down, his strong hands keeping her in place as she writhed beneath him, waves of such intoxicating joys rolling over her that she could do nothing but submit to it until she was a whimpering puddle of liquid honey, utterly spent.

“Oh my,” were the only coherent words she could manage. “Oh… Oh my.”

Henry crawled back up her body, staring down at her and looking vastly pleased with himself. Well, she could hardly blame him. It had been rather magnificent. She giggled at his expression.

“Stop looking so smug,” she murmured, though speaking seemed a great effort.

He shook his head. “You’d best get used to this expression, for I shall be wearing it often.”

Florence quirked an eyebrow at him, and he gave a low laugh, moving to lie alongside her.

“Oh, not just for this,” he assured her. “But whenever I go anywhere with you, and all the fellows look at me and think you lucky dog. How the devil did you manage it?”

He turned her pliant body so that her back was to his chest and nuzzled her neck as his large hand caressed her, cupping her breast before sliding back down her belly between her legs.

Florence gasped as he gently touched her oversensitive skin, sliding into the damp heat and stroking again.

“Henry,” she said, a hint of uncertainty in the tone of her voice.

“Shhh,” he crooned. “Trust me.”

She did, so she subsided, rather astonished as her insides quickened and tightened all over again. Florence gave a soft sob as an ache began deep within her, pleasure and pain and longing. All at once she felt so empty it was unbearable and she pressed back against him, seeking his body, the part of him that would make it right. The hot slide of his arousal against her was only another torment, teasing her as it glided over her needy flesh in languid strokes designed to make her wild.

“Henry,” she said, his name a definite complaint now, but he only gave a low chuckle and nipped at her ear.

“Not yet, love. It will be easier for you the longer you wait. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“No, you want to drive me insane,” she whined, which only made him bury his face against her neck to hide his laughter.

“Poor darling,” he crooned, his voice unsteady.

Perhaps taking pity on her, he turned her onto her back, settling between her thighs.

“Oh, yes, yes, Henry, please….” she begged, beyond shyness or shame or anything but the need to have him inside her.

“Raise your legs,” he commanded, groaning as his cock nestled snugly against her. His gaze settled upon hers, his eyes so very dark now. “Kiss me.”

Florence did, hungry for his mouth, but he gentled her, slowing everything down again, his hands sliding over her with calm, lazy strokes until she thought she’d run mad. His strong fingers tweaked at her nipple, and she gave a startled cry, the sensation arrowing straight between her legs. That heated place was throbbing now, the gentle caress of his flesh over hers delicious, maddening and inciting but not quite enough.

She stared up at her husband, seeing now that he was not unaffected either. His breathing was laboured, his skin passion-flushed and, as she stared at him, he moved, thrusting inside her. She gasped. Suddenly he was sheathed within her, filling her, and the sensation was overwhelming. Florence gasped and clung to him, disorientated.

“Darling?” he said, and she knew it was a question, but she couldn’t find an answer, so she only nodded and held on tight.

He let out a breath of relief and retreated, sliding back inside her and… oh. Oh, that was….

Henry watched her face and whatever he saw must have reassured him, for his mouth quirked up a little. Florence let out a breath of laughter too and then he was kissing her again and it was all a delicious tangle of limbs and emotion and such intimacy that it hardly seemed possible.

“Henry,” she said, his name now the extent of her vocabulary. It could be translated to mean, yes, and, oh, yes, and I love you, and don’t stop, and, please, please, yes!

The only thing in the world was the race to the finish, chasing that glittering explosion of joy together, and the only thing more marvellous than how it felt being flung into the darkness as the pleasure overwhelmed her was knowing that Henry was with her. She heard the primitive cry he made, felt his body quake as the climax took him and he spilled inside her, collapsing at last with his chest heaving and his arms still tight about her.

Florence stared up at the ceiling, dazed and giddy with wonder, stroking her hands up and down his sweat-damp back, a ridiculous smile curving over her mouth which she suspected she’d wear for days, perhaps weeks to come. Henry gave a weak laugh and rolled to lie at her side, pulling her into his arms.