Page 80 of The Lyon Returns
His arms banded around her, locking her to him as he shuddered and jerked and reveled in the pulsing contractions of her sex, milking him without mercy, drawing his hot seed in a seemingly endless eruption. Clenching his jaw, he battled to contain the shout of ecstasy burning his lungs, as he came and came and came in the most powerful climax of his life.
When the maelstrom ebbed, he fell back, undone. No other word for it.
Still straddling his hips, Gwen huddled against him, face pressed to his chest, his manhood gloriously deep inside her.
It took a moment for him to realize she was shaking. Laughing?
Considering the spreading, damp warmth over his waistcoat, he’d have to guess, no.
Hell and damnation.
He opened his mouth. Closed it. He could hardly carry on a serious conversation with his trousers around his ankles.
Easing himself out of her, he reached down to hoist his garments up.
“Oh, I beg your pardon,” Gwen murmured, face carefully averted. She made to scramble off of him while snatching at her loose bodice, tugging it up, and tying the ribbons in a hapless bow.
“Not so fast, sweetheart,” he said, keeping one arm looped around her waist as he buttoned his fly with his free hand. Afterward, he searched his pockets, withdrew his handkerchief, and reached under her skirts to dab it over her undoubtedly sensitive flesh.
With a chirp, she jerked, but he merely continued his ministrations, albeit as gently as possible. Afterward, he scooped one arm beneath her legs, adjusting her position so she sat across his lap, rather than ignominiously astride it.
“Now then, madam, kindly tell me why it is you are crying.”
“I have no idea what you mean.” The loud sniffle that followed belied her words.
“Did I hurt you?” he asked in a low voice.
“No.”
He groaned inwardly, wishing with all his might he could ignore the problem, whatever it might be. He couldn’t, though. He had to know.
“Did I…” He cursed under his breath. “Did you feel coerced? I assure you, that was the last—”
“No,” she said, very definitively.
Relief left him weak. If she had, for one moment, felt pressured…
“No, Gideon,” she repeated softly, as if sensing he needed her reassurance.
“Good. That’s good.” He shifted as a deep lethargy stole over him. Wrapping her in his arms, he smoothed one of his hands over her slender back. “I think you’d better explain, madam. Your tears, and…the rest.”
“The rest?”
“You said, ‘Not like this.’Your relationship with your husband,” he began, searching blindly for an avenue of inquiry. Something that might explain not only her tears, but her innocence, her lack of sexual awareness, especially considering her responsiveness. It was clear the woman had a healthy sexual appetite, and she could not be more appealing, herself.
If there were a problem between her and her husband, the problem was his, of that Gideon had no doubt.
“Your husband,” he began again.
“What of him?” she asked, sounding wary.
Losing patience, he crooked a finger under her chin, and guided her face upward ’til their eyes met. “Gwen, correct me if I’m wrong, but I am the first man to touch you like I did, to bring you to release.”
She did not look away. “Yes.”
“But you did lie with him?”
Now she lowered her eyes. “Yes…A handful of times.”
