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Ah!
“Sure you don’t want me to shave?” he teases, and he does it again, his eyes never leaving hers.
“No!” she cries out as her nipple hardens and lengthens beneath his assault.
“Feel good?”
“Yes.” Her pulse is racing, pumping blood to her breasts, swelling her nipples that ache for his touch, and also to the small powerhouse at the junction of her thighs. “Please!”
He does it again, and she arches her back into his touch.
He grins, tugs down the bra cup shielding her other breast, and begins the same tortuous motion, brushing his stubble over her super-sensitized skin.
She clutches the duvet as his lips and stubble head south, and he nestles between her thighs. He kisses her, there…
Then slowly draws down her panties and kisses her there. Again.
This time, circling the swollen bud with his tongue.
O Zot!
Alessia closes her eyes and arches her back, and his tongue continues its leisurely assault. Round and round. Licking and sucking.
Ah!
He stops and draws his chin over that sensitive spot, his stubble wreaking havoc with her nerve endings.
“Të lutem!”
“English,” he warns. And he does it again.
“Please. Maxim.”
He sits up, drags off her panties, and flips her over and undoes her bra.
He lies down on top of her, his erection nestling in the cleft of her behind.
“Shall I take you this way?”
“Yes!”
“You sound like you’re in need.”
“I am.”
She senses his smile at her ear, and gently he tugs her earlobe with his teeth. “God, I love you, Alessia. Wife. Of mine.” He pushes her knees apart with his and tugs her backside toward him. He trails a finger down between her cheeks, and her muscles tighten as it trails over and past her arse.
“One day, Alessia,” he whispers and then his thumb is inside her, pushing at that sweet spot deep, deep within her. His fingers at her clitoris. Circling. Teasing. Tormenting.
She makes a strangled sound as her body convulses around his thumb. Her orgasm surprising her and spiraling through her limbs.
Maxim withdraws his thumb and flips her back over. With her dazed eyes on his, he slowly enters her, absorbing the last of her shock waves.
He groans his approval and starts to move. Hard. Fast. Taking her higher. So she doesn’t have a chance to land. She’s flying once more, driven by him. Pushed onward and upward by him. He looms over her. Sweat breaking on his brow. He’s relentless. Taking her higher and higher. Her legs stiffen once more, and she cries out as she climaxes a second time. More intense and more draining. Alessia thinks she can see heaven.
“Thank God,” Maxim churns out between gritted teeth, and he comes and comes, collapsing on her and holding her close.
Alessia opens her eyes as Maxim eases out of her, leaving a silky, slick trail of his seed across her upper thigh. She doesn’t care. She revels in it.
He kisses her brow and smooths damp strands from her forehead. “Okay?” he asks.
“More than okay,” she whispers.
He strokes his knuckles down her cheek. “Don’t ever think you’re not enough. Please. It breaks my heart to hear you say that. I love you. Don’t forget it. This feeling is new for me too. I’ve only felt it since I met you.”
She leans up and kisses him. “I know.”
“Do you?” He looks lost all of a sudden.
She nods quickly to reassure him.
Nothing’s changed, Alessia.
He loves you.
Maxim’s smile is cautious. “Good. Look. I can span an Alessia. You’re an octave.” He stretches his hand out, the tips of his thumb and little finger brushing her nipples. He grins, and she giggles, enjoying his boyishness. “I could lie here and look at you all day, but I need the loo.” He gives her a quick peck, rises from the bed, and heads into the bathroom.
Alessia watches him move with his usual athletic grace, his muscular backside pale against his tan.
She sighs as she’s still coming back to earth.
He is an exceptional lover.
Not that she has any experience and no one to compare him to… but Caroline’s words haunt her. Promiscuous doesn’t cover it. He’s proof of the adage: Practice makes perfect.
Alessia wraps herself in the duvet.
Maxim is her lover. Her husband. And only hers.
He said so…
That should be enough.
But that nagging voice persists. For how long?
Chapter Fourteen
The Thames reflections flicker on the ceiling, taunting me as they’ve done over the years. I can’t sleep, though Alessia is comatose beside me. I envy her ability to sleep, but we’ve made love twice this evening—my desperation driving me to take my wife, so she’s exhausted. I want her safe and happy, and I want her to know that I worship the ground she walks on.
Hell, if she knew about Kit, would she leave me?
As much as I’ve tried to quell the thoughts, my brain continues to chew on the information that Caro sprung on me today, and it won’t leave me alone. Carefully, so as not to wake Alessia, I ease myself out of bed, grab my phone and sweatpants from the sofa, and head out to the drawing room. There, I pull them on and stand at the window, staring blankly out at the night.
