Page 40 of Secrets of the Marriage Bed
Slowly, he unbuttoned his falls.
* * *
The jolt of pleasure that had zipped up his spine at her boldness had almost brought him to his knees.
In tamping down his desire for this woman, Alistair had also buried his memories of how passionate this wife of his truly was, how lusciously she responded to him when kissed and touched. He prided himself on his ability to arouse desire in a woman to such a fever pitch she would forget her own name. Now he was undone by the need to make Julia respond that way again, over and over.
Given his current view of long silken thighs, and a hint of her femininity through her shift, not much of his mind was capable of thought, but feral instinct remembered her deep sighs at the sight of him naked.
In moments, he stripped down to his bare skin and despite the urgency of his roaring lust, he waited beside the bed while her gaze roamed his body. Her moistened lips parted. The way her eyes stroked along the length of his shaft made blood the temperature of molten metal race through his veins. His heart pounded against his ribs and echoed in his ears.
‘Mmm...’ she said.
He grinned at the moan of pure pleasure. ‘I hope you’ve seen enough, because I am going to bite and lick and savour every inch of you until you beg for mercy.’
She opened her arms. ‘Now there is a pleasing promise.’
He climbed on to the bed, crouching over her, straddling her hips. She leaned forward to kiss his mouth.
Gently he pressed her back against the pillows. ‘Now it is my turn to play.’ He glanced down her length, practically salivating at the sight of her nipples standing out beneath the filmy fabric of her shift. ‘Here, I think.’ He licked at first one, then the other.
She shuddered and reached for him.
‘Not yet, little one,’ he murmured.
He backed down the length of her until his face was level with the apex to her parted thighs. He gave her a wicked glance from beneath his lashes. ‘Like to tease, do you?’
She raised up on her elbows, her expression sensual and her eyes slumberous. ‘As much as you do.’
‘Hmm. Too bad we forgot to bring your mask.’
She sucked in a breath, as if the reminder of that night was not one she welcomed. A glance at her face showed a flash of embarrassment before she got it under control and her expression calmed to the point of reserve.
‘I was sure it had a couple of feathers left,’ he continued as if he had not noticed her discomfort, though he filed the reaction away for future consideration, when he was capable of thought. For future discussion, too, because the game they had played with the feather had been one of the most sensual experiences of a life filled with hedonistic games.
The playful words seemed to ease her tension and he leaned forward on his knees and took one rosy peak in an open-mouthed kiss. She arched her hips upwards in an attempt to increase the pressure of his erection against her, showing him with her body what she wanted while clutching at his shoulders to hold him in place.
He easily slipped from her grasp, ducking down to blow a hot breath into the valley between her thighs.
She gasped. ‘Alistair. Please.’
A tingle ran up his spine. Hades, he was too close... He drew in a deep breath and rode out the pulses of pleasure until like ripples caused by a stone dropped in a pond they diminished at the edges of his consciousness.
Sitting back on his heels, aware of her greedy gaze touching that male part of him, yet distancing himself by willpower alone from the urgency she incited, he pushed her shift upwards, baring her fully. She lifted her hips to help in the process, drew the whole thing up over her head and tossed it away.
He did not see where it went, he was too focused on the lovely shape of her, curvaceous calves encased in stockings to just above the knee, pale thighs, softly rounded yet long and elegant, chestnut curls, the flare of her hips, the dip of her waist, the flatness of her belly, the fragile ribcage supporting her deliciously full breasts topped by tightly furled dark rose tips.
No artist could capture the warmth, the subtle scents of her perfume and the musky scent of arousal that spun him into her orbit as if he were no more than a falling star.
Twining her arms about his neck, she brought her mouth and lips and tongue down to dance with his. Tendrils of desire curled around him, drawing him in, her sensuality surrounding him until reason slipped from his grasp. Her kisses were heavenly. Seductive as hell.
He wanted to be inside her, to drive himself deep, to claim her in the most fundamental way. And bind them together on some deeper level. A rush of something tender and fragile swamped him. Tenderness. Hope.
He froze. He would not let emotion take control. That way led to disaster, weakness. This was all about pleasure. Nothing else.
As if sensing a change in him, she drew back, her gaze puzzled.
‘Alistair. Please,’ she moaned and wrapped her legs around his waist in a primal invitation.
