Page 53 of The Music of Love

“Good God.” His voice was thick and his hands moved to cover her breasts.

Portia gasped and closed her eyes.

“So beautiful,” he murmured, his fingers stroking the hard tips. She felt hot a puff of breath and then the gentle suction of his lips and tongue as he took her nipple into his mouth.

She groaned and leaned into him, taking his head in her hands. “I need you,” she whispered, all her plans to let him be the one to initiate their love making flying out the window.

He gave a low, wicked laugh and bit her nipple before sliding an arm beneath her knees and sweeping her into his arms.

“You won’t hurry me this time, Mrs. Harrington.” His lips curved into a mocking smile. “I plan on taking my time.”

“You shouldn’t be lifting me, Stacy. You’ll tear the stitches.”

“Shhhh. Let’s make that the last time you mention my stitches, shall we?”

His face was all hard, white planes and she swallowed. “Yes, Stacy.”

“Such a good, obedient wife,” he praised.

Portia snorted and he grinned.

She moved her hand toward the ‘V’ of his robe when he laid her on the bed. “Take it off,” she said, echoing his words.

He gave the sash a tug and the robe slithered open. Portia stared. He was dusted with hair too pale to hide the quilted musculature of his stomach and chest. Even the two bandages he wore did not distract from his masculine beauty. His erection, she was pleased to see, was as impressive as she recalled and her hand moved toward it.

He caught her wrist, pushing her gently back onto the bed, before shrugging out of his robe, the perfectly defined muscles of his chest and shoulders bunching and flexing.

“Lie back.”

She sighed but did as he bade, watching in silence as he spread her legs and knelt between her thighs, looming above her. She was desperate to look at every last part of him.

“You’re a god,” she said, her voice low and harsh with want.

His jaw tightened and his thick shaft jerked, the slit in the fat, smooth crown leaking freely. Portia smiled at the delicious evidence of his desire; he was so close to spending. It would take only a few touches from her—

“You are a devil.”

His words pulled her eyes from his erection. He wrapped one large hand around her throat and held her gently but firmly pinned to the bed. The dominating gesture was unspeakably erotic and she spread wider for him. His red eyes became twin black pools as he dragged his free hand down her chest, between her breasts, leaving her eager nipples untouched. He had a clear destination and didn’t linger until he reached the dark tangle between her legs. He parted her swollen lips and thrust a finger inside. She arched against the sudden invasion, desperate for more.

His expression was a mixture of fierce possession and hunger and he effortlessly held her pinned while he proceeded to pump her, his eyes consuming her as she bucked and thrusted and squirmed.

Portia gave a grunt of frustration as he slowed his stroking and brought her back from the precipice.

“Please, Stacy.”

But he maintained his steady, annihilating pace, his smile cruel as he eased a second finger inside her, thrusting harder, deeper. Her climax stole up so quickly it ripped the breath from her chest and she threw back her head, squeezed her eyes shut, and gave herself up to the inevitable.

And then—just as suddenly as he’d started—he stopped.

Portia pushed her hips against his motionless hand. When he didn’t move she growled and squeezed her eyes even tighter.

“Open your eyes and watch me, Portia.”

She gritted her teeth and forced herself to obey.

“Yes,” he murmured, his hand resuming its tantalizing motion. “Watch your husband, darling. Watch as I make you come.”

His raw words ignited her and her mind exploded, her body arching so hard she thought her spine would snap in half.