Page 39 of What a Widow Wants

“I think not, my lord.” She rubbed the dark hairs on his chest, brushing over his small, erect nipples. “You have many more parts than that.”

“Continue.” He traced a finger down her breast, lingering on her nipple until it perked up, as rigid as his. “My particularly impressive parts.”

“Your wit of course.” Fanny kissed his forehead. “A remarkable part indeed.”

“If it delights you, I will not deny it, although I thought surely there were other parts that impressed you more.” Sliding down until his head dipped beneath the cover, Matthew traced a circle around Fanny’s nipple with his tongue, then latched onto it and sucked.

“Oh, yes.” Fanny purred, her breasts swelling with the tender manipulation. “You do delight me in many ways, my love. Let us see if I can reciprocate.” Slipping her hand across his chest, over his hard stomach, to the proud staff, standing at full mast. She grasped him eagerly and Matthew gasped, then nodded for her to continue.

“Is this another of my impressive parts?” His eyes closed and his arms came around her.

“Very impressive.” Fanny slid her fingers up and down his cockstand, attending not only to her strokes but to his face to alert her to the signs of his approaching pleasure. “I would rank it as most impressive, my lord, save there is one part yet that I would deem so extraordinary it must overshadow this magnificent beast.” She squeezed him, stroking faster, making it his turn to groan aloud.

“Oh, Fanny, you will kill me.” Matthew rolled on top of her, rucked up her gown, drove his shaft between her thighs, and impaled her on his rampant cock.

Nothing like their first time together; however, the magnificent feel of his claiming her fully was the same. And now they could go forward—he pulled back and thrust into her again and again—as husband and wife, perhaps as it should have been from the very beginning.

He strained above her, his face beautiful in its concentration. Eyes closed, Matthew thrust and thrust in a powerful rhythm that once again wound her up to the point at which she must shatter or die.

“Fanny, oh, Fanny.” His face contorted with effort, Matthew drove into her one final time, spilling his seed into her.

The heat of him set her on fire.

“Matthew.” She convulsed around him, anchored to him through more than the mere physical aspect of love.

Slumping on top of her, Matthew sighed and grunted, then rolled over and lay panting, an earsplitting grin on his face. “I cannot wait to discover what you think my most impressive part.”

When she could speak again, Fanny propped herself up on her elbow and looked him in the eyes. “Your heart, my love. Nothing is greater or more generous, or nobler than your heart, which is the sum of your parts, I believe.” Leaning over, she kissed him sweetly on the lips. “I thank God, and you, for giving it to me.”

“It has been and always shall be yours, love.” He gathered her to him, nestling her warm against his side, head pillowed on his shoulder, her long hair fanned out across his chest.

Contentment as she had never known before stole through Fanny, relaxing her into a lovely, drowsy state. Her view of him from this vantage point was magnificent. Gazing across the expanse of his body, she noted the fine sheen of sweat glistening on his chest and down his ridged stomach. That she had caused that patina to appear filled her with happiness. The carelessly flung sheet hid more interesting matters, but as much as she wanted to renew their passion, for the moment she was spent. She yawned, kissed his shoulder, and closed her eyes. “Wake me before you leave, my love.”

“You may depend upon it.” His deep voice rumbled in her ear. “Shall I blow out the lamps?”

Yawning, she shook her head. “Don’t get up. I’m so very comfortable just like this.”

“Your wish is my command, as always.”

She smiled at that. Not quite the case always, but she’d not fuss about it now. Perhaps in the future they would make together it would be.

Tap, tap, tap.

With a gasp, Fanny shot up, tangled in the covers and her bedclothes. She turned wide eyes to Matthew who sighed, and flung an arm over his face.

“Who the devil is that at almost two o’clock in the morning?” Matthew whispered vehemently, his eyes piercingly cold.

“How should I know?” she whispered back, rapping him smartly on the arm. Did he dare insinuate she’d invited someone else to her bedroom? “You are the only one I expected tonight. Maybe if I don’t answer they will go away.”

They maintained silence for what seemed an aeon, but was likely only several seconds, and the tapping was repeated, along with a muffled voice calling to her.

“Did that voice sound feminine to you?” she asked, untangling the covers then sliding to the floor.

“It was indistinct, but I would say so.”

“Then it’s most likely Jane.”

Dark eyes on her, he tracked her carefully as she moved toward the door, but he’d relaxed nonetheless.