Page 110 of Rules for a Wicked Wager

“Hold there,” he said as he kissed his way down her belly.

Her legs were splayed, her body quivering in hunger, and she had a fleeting question slip through her mind as he laved a circle around her navel. But she couldn’t hold the thought for long, and so it slipped away as he…

He…

Oh!

He pushed her legs apart, settling between them so his shoulders kept them wide. Part of her was alarmed by this, but then she felt his thumb slide between her folds. The rough pressure and the broad caress made her gasp even as she pressed up toward him.

She wanted to say something. She wanted to be eloquent and perfect, but there was no place for that with him between her thighs. And before she could even catch the idea of words, he spoke for her.

“You are everything I want,” he said, his tone equal parts demand and reverence.

She didn’t understand what was happening. The sensations were too wonderful for her to parse into meaning. Wet. Rough. Stroke. Suck. More and more while she thrust herself against him.

The tension was building. The sensations aggressive. She tightened her legs, but he held her knees down. And then it happened. Everything compressed together—a spring pressed tight—before…release! Her body bucked. Her belly rippled. And everything was glorious as she flew.

Then she felt him, that thick presence at her entrance. Yes, that was what she’d been missing. Him filling her.

He was crouched above her, his body so wonderfully large. She arched, trying to take him inside. She was still contracting, her head thrown back, but she had the wherewithal to whisper.

“I would like to carry your child.”

She didn’t know where the words came from, and she couldn’t take them back once they were spoken. They were simply part of the experience.

“When we are wed,” he said.

“Yes.”

He thrust.

Stretched. Full. Big.

He made her feel so expanded. As if she could take the whole of him and still have room for joy. Her thoughts made no sense, and yet they too were part of this lovemaking.

Open.

Embracing.

While he thrust.

Harder and faster.

Yes.

More.

She gripped him with her legs.

Every impact ratcheted her higher.

And then he seated himself and stopped.

“Mari,” he said. “Mari!”

She opened her eyes.

“Say it.”