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She assumed he had already fallen asleep, which was why she jumped, startled, when he spoke to her.
"My neck is killing me, Pru. Could you rub it some for me?"
"Of course," she said, getting up to kneel beside him.
Her hands worked at the muscles in his neck, which were thick with tension. She kneaded them roughly, forcing him to relax. His skin was warm to her touch though damp from the strands of wet hair that brushed his neck.
"That feels great." His voice was muffled from his face being half buried in his pillow. "Rub my shoulders?"
She didn't hesitate. Her hands moved to help ease the tension there. She worked on his back down to his waist, where the blanket lay across it. She liked touching him, feeling his potency beneath her fingers as they dug into his flesh. He was so powerfully built that it excited her, and she was tempted to slip the cover away and touch him even further. He was hard and virile, and she wanted badly to stretch herself over him, to connect closely, to join with him and feel the pleasure of him.
Instead, she continued to work on his back while her imagination worked elsewhere.
"My thighs, Pru, do my thighs," he begged. "They ache like hell."
She swallowed the lump in her throat and her inhibitions all at once as she drew back the covers, exposing the rest of him to her view.
With great difficulty she stifled a moan, which was pleading to escape her lips. She bit hard to hold it back as her fingers dug into the heavy muscle of his thigh. Her eyes roamed as her fingers worked most diligently. The firm swells of his nicely curved backside connected perfectly to his thighs, as though a master sculptor had fashioned him. And her memory taunted her with vivid recall of what lay snug in the darkness between his slightly parted legs.
"That feels so good," he groaned in relief.
She was glad he was so pleased, because she was suffering mightily. Perspiration tickled her brow, and the small fire made her feel as though she were roasting.
She wiped at her face and sighed.
"Hot, Pru?" he asked softly.
"A bit. Must be the fire."
"Must be," he agreed. "Take off your nightgown."
Her hands stopped and rested on his thigh a moment before continuing again, this time with added fervor. "That's not necessary."
"I think it is. You're hot and bothered. You'll feel better with it off."
"No, I won't," she insisted a bit more sternly than she had planned.
"Don't argue with your tired husband," he ordered just as sternly.
"It's really not —"
He turned swiftly on his back and her hand now rested on the top of his thigh, dangerously close to his groin. Her eyes caught there immediately, and she squeezed them shut upon seeing the full size of him, potent and ready.
"Take your nightgown off and come here to me," he demanded in the harsh sensual tone of a man hungry for his woman.
Her fingers trembled as she reached to untie the pink ribbons at her throat. The trembling increased when she pulled the ribbons free at her chest.
"Take it off," he ordered once more and with impatience.
She eased the gown up and over her head, tossing it to the side. She still knelt, her back rigid, her chest out, and her eyes finally open.
"Come here." He held his hand out to her. She took it and he pulled her to him, adjusting her to straddle him. Her bottom rested on his belly and his one hand stayed locked with hers.
He tugged her forward slightly so his other hand could reach up and capture her breast. She stretched up, arching her back, offering herself to him.
"I love how your nipples harden so quickly to my touch and how you shiver and moan when I play with you." He raced his fingers down her stomach to the junction of her thighs, then over the small bud that sprang to life as soon as he caressed it.
The results were instantaneous. She shivered and moaned.
"I'm not going to play fair tonight, honey," he warned, grasping her backside firmly in his hands.
She looked at him in alarm and anticipation.
He just smiled and yanked her forward. His tongue was electrifying, and she cried out as spasms of rapture assaulted her. This was pain and pleasure in its purest form, and she never wanted it to end.
He teased and tormented her until she thought she would go mad, rushing her to the brink of release, and then easing her back again to start his torture all over.
She begged and pleaded for him to stop and not to stop. Prudence was lost in a mindless void where nothing mattered but his touch and the magic it brought her.
She wasn't aware of him slipping her off him and tucking her beneath him, or of how gently his hands eased her legs apart, or of when he entered her. Her only thoughts were of his powerful thrusts. Deep and forceful, they were delivered time and time again, and she clung to him, aching to feel each one.
