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Follow Your Instincts
Still wearing his robe, Roland climbed back into bed and gathered his wife into his arms. The silk of the nightrail only made the heat of her body more arousing. His throbbing cock cursed the foolish notion to take things slowly. Praying for endurance, it occurred to him he was inexplicably nervous. He’d never worried about his ability to bring a woman pleasure. He wanted his joining with Adelina to be more than simply pleasurable.
He kept the urge in check as long as he could before bending his head to suckle a nipple through the fabric.
Whimpering, she draped one leg across his body and hooked her foot behind his knee, pulling him closer. The harder he suckled, the more insistent that little foot became.
She tried to peel the robe off his shoulder but he stayed her hand. “Patience,” he whispered, more to himself than to her.
“I ache for you,” she murmured, sending his cock into full salute.
“Let me soothe the ache,” he replied, dancing his fingertips up her bare thighs.
When she opened her legs, he took it as his cue to slip a finger into her wet heat, then another. Her moaning encouraged him to get to his knees and let his tongue follow where his fingers had led. The silk nightrail rolled up around her hips made the suckling and feasting more arousing. She wriggled to lift the garment higher, but he held the symbolic barrier he’d breached in place.
She growled when her first release took hold. She dug her heels into the mattress, arched her back and thrashed about. He clamped his arms around her thighs, determined to keep suckling the diamond of her desire. Her growls turned to mewling. Prolonging her euphoria made him feel smugly proud of himself. Deferring his own release was proving to be worth the torment, at least that’s what he kept telling himself.
When she calmed, he peeled the nightrail off over her head and stared at her glorious breasts.
“Let me see you,” she whispered, reaching for his robe.
Shaking his head, he cupped a breast and suckled. By the time he’d suckled both breasts and let his fingers wander to her nether lips, she’d forgotten her demands and released again.
He reminded his indignant cock these preparations were necessary to ease the way for her first time.
Her sated brown eyes widened when he eased the robe off, threw it aside and laid down beside her.
He was completely taken aback when she straddled his hips, held his gaze and lowered herself onto his greedy cock. He felt the barrier break as she rode him, but she showed no sign of discomfort. Indeed, her broad smile and lustful gaze indicated she was enjoying it as much as he was. Perhaps enjoy was too weak a word. He’d died and gone to heaven. He grasped her hips when she thrust out her breasts and tweaked her own nipples. His couilles drew up and his seed erupted into her welcoming sheath at the very moment she cried out her euphoria.
He may have shouted too, hopefully nothing blasphemous, though his tigress had gifted him with a life-altering orgasm the like of which he’d never experienced before. They fit together perfectly, but he’d always known they would.
* * *
Of their own volition, Adelina’s inner muscles clenched on Roland’s manhood, apparently determined to keep him inside her forever. She was afraid to open her eyes. Then she’d have to abandon the soaring clouds on which she floated. Also, she might see censure in her husband’s gaze. She hadn’t had the benefit of a mother’s advice, though Marguerite had intimated the male usually took the lead in the bridal bed.
She’d been overly aggressive, but the aching urge to give herself body and soul to Roland had overtaken her. He’d wanted to go slowly, to savor the sensual banquet, and she’d been too greedy. He must think her a wanton.
His manhood left her body and curled up at her entry, underscoring his disappointment.
Close to tears, she opened her eyes, swallowing hard when she saw the smile that never failed to send desire spiraling into her womb.
“Don’t cry, Adelina,” he whispered, stroking her thighs. “That was the best fyking orgasm I ever had.”
Apparently mistaking her blush for anger, he apologized for swearing. Laughter bubbled up in her throat and her trembling hips finally gave way. She collapsed atop him and breathed again. “I got carried away,” she confessed.
“A man loves it when a woman takes charge,” he replied. “I would have eventually suggested you ride me, but you followed your body’s instincts.”
“I love you,” she whispered, raising her head to look into his blue eyes.
“And you are the love of my life,” he replied, tucking an errant curl behind her ear.
For the first time, she paid attention to the puckered scar—evidence of where the bolt had struck him. She’d seen it before and dressed the wound many times. Her instinct now was to bestow a kiss on the mark of honor.
When she twirled her tongue over the scar, his manhood sprang to life between her legs, lending credence to his theory about the benefits of following your instincts.
* * *
The first gray streaks of dawn’s early light woke Roland. He’d been determined to stay awake all night soaking up the warmth of Adelina’s bottom nestled against his groin. He’d clearly fallen asleep, but waking with her glorious tresses strewn across his body and her arm draped across his chest was equally wondrous.
He stayed as still as he could, recognizing his bride must be exhausted. She’d matched him stroke for stroke and cry for euphoric cry through the night.
He’d sensed Adelina would be a passionate bed partner, but that she’d been comfortable taking the lead in their sexual adventures thrilled him beyond measure. It seemed she couldn’t get enough of his body. He considered himself fortunate.
He’d lost count of how many times they’d made love, but he wanted her again. He supposed a man could suffer worse fates than being perpetually aroused by his alluring wife.
