Page 46 of The Mister I Married

Somehow, someway, he’d managed to pleasure her, and that pleased him no end. It relieved him, too.

He’d worried he wouldn’t be able to—he’d only kissed her once, after all, and she’d told him she was not a romantic person. She’d likely gone into this evening at least a little doubtful that she would enjoy herself.

He only hoped it would continue to go so well, and that he wouldn’t do anything to embarrass himself.

“Heavens above, Alex,” Emmy muttered. “That was…it was…”

“Worth the torment?” he teased as he turned on his side and pushed up onto his elbow.

She nodded. “Well worth it.”

He smiled.

“I didn’t think anyone could make me feel that way,” she said. “Anyone besides me, that is.” Her tone was casual but the color in her cheeks had darkened.

Alex swallowed, his cock twitching as images of Emmy assaulted his mind, her hand beneath the covers, her lower lip between her teeth as she rode her fingers to completion.

Bollocks. He closed his eyes briefly, willing the images away. He was barely holding on as it was.

“Well, I’m glad I could prove you wrong,” he said, his voice gruff.

“So am I.” She smiled at him, her gray eyes frank and sweet, and Alex reached out to stroke her cheek.

He’d been right, it seemed. She had worried she would find no pleasure tonight. With determination drumming through his veins, he leaned down and kissed her deeply, caressing her cheek, her hair, her perfect breasts.

She turned in his arms, her lips bold and hungry, her hands caressing his chest.

Alex let his hands wander over her warm, delectable flesh, trying to ignore the urgings of his body, even as his cock throbbed against her belly.

Emmy’s fingers traveled lower, skimming his nipples, trailing down his abdomen, and he held his breath, desperate for her touch even as he wondered how in hell he would survive it.

“Damn me,” he muttered against her lips at the first brush of her fingertips on his cock. His eyes closed as she explored his length, and he had to grit his teeth to keep from thrusting into her palm like some mindless beast.

“I’ve always wondered what a man’s member feels like,” she murmured, clearly unaware that she was driving him out of his bloody mind. “It is silkier than I was expecting. And quite thick, too.”

She gripped him, her soft, elegant hand stroking his cock, unpracticed yet bold and undeniably devastating.

“I don’t think I can wait any longer,” he gritted out. “Are you ready to consummate our marriage?”

Her hand stilled. “Yes,” she said. “I think so.”

He shook his head. “Only if you’re sure, Emmy. If you’re not ready tonight, please say so. I will understand.”

The delay might kill him, but he would understand.

“No, Alex, I’m sure. I’m ready.”

She sounded certain enough, he supposed, for a virgin bride on the brink of the unknown.

Alex climbed on top of her, feeling oafish and clumsy but—mother of God—she felt damned good beneath him.

Her thighs widened to accommodate him, and he settled between them, his forearms bracketing her shoulders. Swallowing hard, he gripped his cock in one hand and guided the tip to her entrance.

Slowly, he entered her, sweat beading his brow as he sank into her hot, tight cunny.

“Emmy…Jesus…” He swallowed again. “I might hurt you, and I’m sorry for that. I’ll try to make this good for you. I swear it.”

“Just do it, Alex,” she said, her hands gripping his shoulders. “The anticipation is killing me.”