Page 84 of Lord Ashley's Beautiful Alibi
He took her hands away and wrapped her arms around his waist. With two swipes, he lifted her skirts. “I doubt I told you how I love your wedding gown, madam.”
“But you don’t love it enough,” she said with a laugh.
“To leave it on you?” He rucked up more of her skirts and found the bare skin of her inner thighs. “No.”
He wedged one hand over her mound and played among her folds. He heard how liquid she was. Her eyes watered with the sound. And he sank his fingers inside her.
“Not fair,” she told him, her arms around his shoulders in a fast embrace. “I have nothing to caress.”
He picked her up in his arms and strode with her to the next room and a bed, already turned down.
She grinned at him from the center of the bed as he fumbled with his clothes. Coat, cravat, waistcoat, shirt, boots, breeches. “Mine,” she said, and with open arms welcomed him, naked and painfully erect. “You are mine.”
He tugged to get her to sit up. “You must be free too.”
“No, later.” She ran one hand over his jutting cock. “Now I want you.” And she scooted backward, leading him with her hand and opening her thighs to have him.
He looked bewildered by her offering, reverent and oh so eager. Open-mouthed, he scooted close on his knees and pulled her thighs wider. “You are beautiful everywhere, my darling wife.”
*
Why she wasnot shy but brazen in her display, she could not reason. Her mind was gone to him, and this, and all the pleasure he had given her once before and would do again.
He sank down, and found that one delicate point in her universe that set her keening at the dip of his tongue.
She lifted her head, watching him, his concentration, his delicacy to approach her to lick her hard and set her aflame and send her down to a growling appreciation. Once more, he touched the tip of his tongue to her, and she throbbed, head to toe in the brilliant pulse that only he could provoke in her.
He was at once one with her, groaning, his head to her shoulder. Inside her where he was meant to be. She arched up into him as he ground out and came inside her.
In minutes, he had her against him, both to their sides. Still inside her, he cradled her to him.
For minutes, she knew not how long, she inhaled the special flavor of his scent and drifted in a euphoria that his care had brought her.
Then he was up, urging her to stand and remove the clothes neither of them had taken time for. Turning her around, he worked at the buttons of her gown. She smiled, besotted, chuckling at the memory of her fear this morning that those tiny things would be too small for his fingers. He made short work of them, and the gown was gone.
“You were beautiful in this,” he said as he held her against him and dropped the Lyon peach silk to a chair. “You’ll wear it again for others. For me now, only your skin is what I wish to savor.”
And so he did, nibbling at her shoulder, kissing the hollow of her breasts, and laving her nipples, hard and aching as they were for his attention. Then, devoid of every bit of cloth, he swept her into his arms and marched with her to his small, warm boudoir, where a steamy tub of water awaited her. He set her in, over her objections, and, picking up a small towel, washed her intimately everywhere.
He led her up and out, wrapping her in a huge piece of soft toweling. Then he led her back to bed.
“I want you again,” he told her, his hands framing her face. “But I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Come make love to me, Kane. I want no respite from the delight you bring me. Dare I hope you want none from mine?”
He kissed her, a ravishing claim. “You are sweet.”
She laughed. “Never did you think so.”
“Not on that blasted road, no. But then, neither was I.”
She ran her hands over his dark stubble, already growing at this hour so soon past noon. Up in his thick, curling hair, she drove her fingers to his scalp. “I want you again. Now. We need to make proper babies for your earldom.”
“And to ensure you are truly mine.”
“I wish to be no other’s. I never did.”
The fire in his eyes matched that in her words, and she smiled.
