Page 46 of The Baron Takes a Wife

“Well, it was in our agreement.” She tried hard not to smile.

“Is that the only reason you will see me, our agreement?” He began to trace his fingers down her neck to her collarbone, the rough skin of his hands creating sensations of pleasure against the contours of her skin. He then brought his hands to the back of her neck and unclasped the necklace, and the beads skittered down Elena’s chest, to the tops of her breasts, and into her lap. Putting his finger back to the pulse of her neck, he replaced his hand with his lips.

“Am I so mysterious?” She was barely able to get the words out.

“There are times I would give anything to know what is happening inside of that head of yours,” he murmured against her skin.

At that moment, all that went through her mind was pleasure, just endless, endless pleasure. Her senses were full of the things he could do with his mouth and tongue, the way he could find these points on her body…

“Should I come to your bedchamber, my lord?”

“David,” he corrected.

“Husband.”

She could feel him smile against her skin.

“If you give me leave tonight, I will come to you, Wife.”

****

After she had dismissed her maid and sat braiding her own hair, Elena reflected on how she had been sitting here at her vanity just a few nights before when she had decided to go to see her husband in his bedchamber. That night, he had shown her pleasure she had never known before, not even with Anatole. Would it be like that again? Could it always be like that?

As she called for him to enter and saw his broad, strong body wrapped in that blue robe in her mirror, an erotic chill ran down her spine, and she felt with strange surety that together, they could always feel passion like that.

As her husband’s tall form appeared behind her, she noticed he wasn’t using his cane. Something else was also missing.

“Where is Goliath?” She felt terrible she hadn’t noticed the dog had not been there to greet her that evening. Her mind, as well as her body, had been wrapped up in other things.

“I sent him to Irene tonight. She doesn’t mind.”

Coming up behind her, her husband’s hands reached for her collarbone, which he traced with reverence. His fingertips skirted the tops of her breasts, then coasted down between them, grasping them through the silk night rail she wore just for that night. She heard his intake of breath and began to turn her head, but at that moment, he knelt down and caught her mouth with his.

Their kiss began like a wildfire, barely controlled and devouring, as his hands crept along the silk to cup and massage her breasts. His thumb gently circled her nipples, the silk making them more sensitive to his touch as she arched forward against his hands. There was something unbearably erotic about being caught in an embrace like this, unable to move but also unable to let go. Tentatively, she used her tongue to explore his mouth, and he met hers with reckless abandon.

Suddenly, he scooped her up and carried her to the bed, just as he had days earlier. Elena briefly worried that he did not have his cane, but the thought quickly left her mind as he threw her down and straddled her on the bed with palpable urgency. He interlocked their fingers together, kissing her hands, then pushed both arms over her head, holding them there with one hand. Her initial alarm at being trapped gave way to the pleasure this position provided her, and she arched her breasts against him when he claimed her mouth. She felt desirable and powerful all at once and decided she wanted to feel his skin against hers. Breaking the kiss, she pushed him up, stripped off his robe, and then switched positions so she was on top, holding his arms over his head. She saw him look up and then look at her for a moment, as they both knew he could break her grip in an instant. She put her hand up as if to say, “Stay.” His breathing turned harsh, but he left his hands above his head, and she removed hers. She wanted to enjoy his body, to bring him the same pleasure he had brought to her. She ran her fingers down his arms, lightly scoring her fingernails across his skin. She used her lips to further appreciate his chest, then his abdomen, until she reached the length of him. She looked up at him to find him watching her with something like awe. She dipped her head toward him, and he gave a small, swift grunt of consent. She proceeded to stroke one finger from the base down his shaft. She then took her tongue and ran it along the underside of him, feeling the tremor throughout his body before completely taking him in her mouth.

“Elena,” he growled.

Her name sounded like a prayer, and she used her mouth and tongue to almost bring him to the brink, but he caught her and drew her against him before he reached a climax. He cupped her face, leaning his head against hers, breathing deeply. Elena realized that though she had lost her wrapper somewhere along the way, she was still wearing her night rail, which she sat up and forcibly removed. Her husband stared as she lay back down beside him on her side. His hands again found that space between her breasts, which he stroked with infinite slowness, making a circle with his fingertips as if moving through honey. He ran a hand down all the contours of her body, lingering around the curve of her hips. Gently, he pushed her hip, easing her onto her back.

As his hands began to move between her legs, she had a flash of those men, with their rough, large hands, tearing at her body, using their fingers to enter her, hurt her. She stared for a moment at David’s hands, which were also rough and large but tender and warm. Even though they were journeying into new territory, she recognized she felt safe in his battle-scarred hands as he looked in her eyes, and she gave her consent with surety. His fingertips found her sex, stroking with the lightness of wings, and she spread her legs wider to give him greater access. She hadn’t understood how wet she was, how ready for his hands, for him. The ache that had been building in her was turning into a fire as the gentleness of his touch fed the intensity of her desire. His thumb found that spot at the top of her sex—she did not know the word in English—and she almost peaked, arching against his hand as he gently circled his thumb around that spot. She began to hear the music from that evening building around them, almost cresting, almost there, but then dying back down, increasing the ache.

“Husband, Husband, please,” she moaned.

“Yes, Elena?”

“Now, yes, now!”

He positioned himself on top of her, the length of him against her sex.

“Yes?”

“Yes, David.”

The sound of his name seemed to enrapture him, and he entered her with a groan. He began tentatively filling her, and she raised her hips to meet him. She felt the music die down again, but there was something in the air, a quiet anticipation of when the momentum would pick up again. Just as she raised her hips, he slammed into her, then looked up to check with her. She gasped in assent, then increased her speed, raising her hips to meet him in time. She felt the music inside begin to build, wilder and faster. She was closer and closer to something, then she felt the word as she heard the music—crescendo. He found her eyes for a brief moment, and she wondered if he could hear the music too, if he was also reaching for that faraway peak. As their eyes locked, she felt that ache turn into a wonderful, all-consuming pleasure that gripped her entire body. She gasped and wrapped her arms around him, feeling the muscles and the sweat and the beautiful movement of his body as he cried out as well. Their breathing seemed in tandem as he dropped his head to her chest, to the space between her breasts.

When she had recovered her ability to speak, she murmured, “You like that spot.”