Page 41 of Secrets of the Marriage Bed
This,this, he understood.
He bent his head to lick first one breast, then the other, while his fingers danced over her, teasing and stroking until he could sense she was close to her climax. At last, he entered her, finding her natural rhythm, listening to her sighs and sensing what pleased her most. And still without warning, her inner muscles tightened and pulsed around his shaft. A glorious heart-stopping climax that shook him to the core.
A storm of sensual pleasure raced along his veins. The urge to follow into bliss was nigh overwhelming.
Fighting to hold back the primitive need, he jerked away, collapsing to one side of her before he unravelled. The pain of denial had him clenching his jaw and breathing hard while coherent thought escaped his command, but he sensed her confusion.
He pulled her close, his heart thundering in his chest, his body a jangle of anger and disappointment.
Her hand cupped the side of his face. ‘Alistair?’ The question was little more than a breath of air across his cheek.
He swallowed rawness in his throat. Only once in recent memory had he forgotten himself entirely during intimacy. With her. That time, he had been assured all precautions had been taken and they had not been married. This time the risks were too great, yet he’d almost forgotten, he’d been so overcome.
He blew out the candles and drew the covers up to her chin. ‘Sweet dreams.’
In the dark, he sensed her uncertainty. ‘Alistair, why—’
‘Sleep,’ he whispered against her hair. ‘I have quite worn you out.’ He pushed away from the bed and returned to his chamber. He didn’t have a choice. He did not trust himself not to want her again.
And that was troubling.
