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His hands tangled in her hair as he threw his head back, his face a mask of ecstasy, she was excited to see when she flicked open her eyes. “You are exquisite,” he groaned, his breathing tortured as Cressida built up the tension with her tongue.
It was all so new to her, and all so wickedly exciting. She could afford to be as tantalizing
as she wished, for she had precautions and she had knowledge. A week ago, this hugely important aspect of her life, the foundation of her marriage, had been mired in dark, swamp-like ignorance.
While Justin moaned his pleasure, Cressida could provide him with all he could want of a wife, fulfilling her conjugal side of the contract. With interest. Without repercussions every time. Without fear. It was exhilarating, and it was just the beginning.
“And now it’s my turn,” she whispered when she felt him nearly at the cusp. She wanted this moment to confirm their sexual life would never be the same but yet, oh, so much better.
Still holding him with one hand, she hastily retrieved the French letter from the reticule at her knees and slipped one of the strange sheaths Madame Zirellia had given her onto him, stroking and massaging him to keep up the momentum. Not that that seemed in any danger of slipping.
He was shocked at first, but he understood, throwing himself into the game with as much enthusiasm as she’d hoped. Her womb throbbed with want and she was desperate for him by the time she rose to her feet, twisting in his grasp so she had her back against the table.
She did not have to say the words that had been forming on her breath—‘Take me here.’ Her actions conveyed their own eloquence, and with a cry of pleasure, Cressida threw back her head and gasped as his hands encircled her waist and he lifted her onto the table, moving in to take her ankles and wrap her legs around him.
Breathless, panting and excited, they laughed as together they hoisted her skirts up around her waist.
She wanted no preliminaries. She was clear about that, her lust too advanced, her desire too urgent. She needed to feel herself full and hot with him thrusting deep inside her. She wanted him to lose himself in her as he’d done when they were lovers as much as newlyweds, and the consequences were a bonus, not a bane.
She wanted to reclaim him.
With her arms supporting her weight, she opened lust-laden eyelids as Justin pushed into her, first with tentative exploration, for it had been so long since they’d done this, then with serious intent as he picked up the pace with smooth assurance. She sucked in a sharp breath as she closed her eyes, thrilling at the memory of Justin’s expression, glazed with passion.
It came naturally. She moved with him as he ground his hips against hers; and her mind moved on to inhabit a different plane, it seemed, while her body immersed itself in the moment, a mass of heightened sensation.
As important as the physical was the knowledge that she had claimed back what she’d thought she’d lost forever.
He came with a shudder, and she wrapped her legs even tighter around him and thrust her own body forward to clasp his head to her chest.
“My God, Cressy,” he groaned, “I had no idea how much I’d missed this.” He tightened his embrace, resting his cheek against hers. “And how much I feared I was losing you.”
Cressida just held him, satiated and full of joy, her husband still inside her. Justin had just made love to her for the first time in ten months—and the aftermath of pleasure was not the fear and uncertainty of another pregnancy .
Instead, added to the joyful, spontaneous abandon that had characterized the early stage of their marriage was a deeper appreciation of what each meant to the other, heightened by the knowledge of the jeopardy it had been in.
“Oh, Justin, we are neither of us to blame,” Cressida whispered.
They slid to the floor, embracing upon the thick wolf skin, stroking and kissing each other as renewed sexual desire quickly pushed aside post-coital lethargy .
Then suddenly Justin rose, reached across for something, and Cressida was astonished to see he held his own contraceptive between his fingers.
“This is what I planned to use at Madame Plumb’s this evening,” he explained as Cressida, wide-eyed, took the prophylactic from him, the wondrous sense of power growing again as she felt her husband harden at her touch.
“You came...prepared?” She felt a moment’s distress. “I had no idea, Justin.”
“And I had no idea the reason for your reluctance these past months was fear of another child.” He drew her across his lap so that he was looking down at her, his eyes clouded with guilt. “If I’d only known—” He cleared his throat. “If I’d only had the mind to think beyond my own pleasure and to consider what it might be like for you to face a potential confinement each time we did this, we could have been so much happier.” Gently, he stroked her face, and love and gratitude for the husband whose heart she’d been so fortunate to win swept through her. His voice gentled. “I’m so sorry for what I’ve put you through, when you had no one to turn to.”
“Hush.” She touched his lips with her forefinger. “We both should have voiced what was in our hearts, but let’s not talk about that now. We’re back where we should be.”
He smiled as he drew her to her feet. With his hands resting gently on her shoulders, he walked her backward until she was up against the billiard table. “Now you are my captive, my sweet,” he whispered with a smile as he gently stroked her bottom and flanks.
“There are a multitude of means to prevent another baby, Cressy”—he nibbled her ear, making her shiver—“and as I intend we talk candidly about our desires for each other and whether or not to increase our family, rest assured that in future you can leave a" such related concerns to me, and I will not let you down. In the meantime, just enjoy the feeling of being loved. For indeed, you are.”
“Oh Justin, I do love you,” she whispered, cupping his chin and nuzzling his hands, which rested lightly on her shoulders, adding quickly before he closed the gap to kiss her, “I’ve been to a place no lady would go, but what I’ve learned has liberated me.”
“You don’t feel tainted? Shocked?”
“I have been shocked. Very shocked!” She closed her eyes a moment, recalling the rapture on the faces of Ariane and Wentworth, the couple whose five-year marriage could not be made public but who’d clearly found ways to bring pleasure into their union. The license they allowed each other was not something she or Justin would contemplate for a moment in their own marriage, yet could she condemn others for finding satisfaction that did not impinge on the well-being of others?
