Page 83 of The Danger of Desire
“I definitely enjoy feasting onyou.” He leaned over her shoulder to nip her ear. “One day, my sweet, I’m going to bend you over and take you from behind so I can view that lovely bottom of yours the entire time I plunge into your sweet quim.”
She got wetter at the words, which told him that he wasn’t alone in finding the idea exciting. “No time... like the present.”
That made his cock leap. “Don’t tempt me. I promised you a more conventional bedding,” he reminded her. “But I confess I can hardly breathe for wanting to take you that way.”
“Then do it,” she said.
That was all the encouragement he needed to walk her over to the dressing table and bend her over it, where she braced herself against the top with her hands. Then he drew back to survey how lovely she looked: her lush behind so perfectly displayed for him, her fine back so nicely arched, and her wild hair spilling over her shoulders onto the dressing table.
“Spread your legs, dearling,” he said hoarsely, and she did. Now he could see the furrow between her thighs that he wished to plunder thoroughly. “God, you’re so damned beautiful.”
He glanced up to meet her eyes in the mirror, that steady blue that always arrowed right to his chest. The blush was fading from her cheeks, replaced by an expression of rampant curiosity.
How had he been so fortunate as to find a wife who seemed as interested in bed sport as he?
“You make me randy as hell.” Sliding his hand between her legs, he caressed the pouting nether lips drenched with her arousal. “And I’m not the only one enjoying this, am I?”
“No.” A coy smile crossed her face. Then she echoed his words, “As perhaps you can tell.”
His cock certainly could, for it got hard enough to pound nails. “I begin to think you and I are more evenly matched than I originally believed, brat.”
He needed to be inside her, damn it. But he was determined that she find pleasure in this, too. So he concentrated on caressing her sweet spot until he had her panting and shimmying against his hand. At the same time he bent over to reach beneath her so he could rub one of her breasts while he continued to fondle her quim from behind.
When her eyes slid shut and she moaned, a heady satisfaction coursed through him. She was so damned responsive. It made him want her even more.
Unable to bear the intensity of his arousal any longer, he eased himself inside her. She made an odd sound, a cross between a gasp and a moan.
“Are you all right?” he rasped.
Because God knewhewasn’t. He was already half-mad for his wife, who would take over his life if he allowed her the chance.
“No,” she replied. “I’m out of my mind with wanting you.”
Her answer spiked his need higher. “Then you shall have me. Hold on, my sweet. This may be a rough ride.”
Then he was plunging into her, drinking up her soft cries and moans, losing himself in the hot, wet silk of her that milked his cock with every thrust. All the while he fingered her, determined not to lose control of his own arousal before she came.
“Warren...” She gripped his forearm. “Oh... yes, my darling. Yes, yes... my husband!”
The possessive words sent him beyond control. With one last hard thrust, he spilled his seed and collapsed atop her. Half a moment later she convulsed around him and cried out her own release.
As he stood there inside her, with his body plastered against her sweet bottom, it dawned on him that until tonight he’d never lost control with a woman. Never been so obsessed with a woman that even after bedding her, he couldn’t keep his hands off her.
Even now, as his cock softened, he couldn’t get enough of her. He wanted to kiss every inch of her sweetly bowed back, to wrap himself in her hair... to make her come again in as many ways as possible.
Fighting the panic that such an impulse made him feel, he slipped out of her, then pulled her around into his arms so he could crush her to his chest and forget that he’d just taken her like a whore. Hiswife. Whom he wanted again.
And again and again and—
She kissed his cheek, and he groaned.
God, what if he disappointed her? Because in the long run, he was bound to, the way he’d disappointed his mother, his father, his tutors, and every woman who’d come before Delia.
Don’t be a sniveling coward, boy. Lords aren’t afraid of the dark. Buck up and be a man.
He shivered at the thought of such words—or something like them—coming from his wife.
That mustn’t happen. So he must take care to set the terms of this marriage very clearly. And do his damned best to abide by them. Better to give her a little bit of disappointment now than let her see the rank fear that lay at the center of his soul.
