Page 103 of Marry in Secret
“Sit on me, then.” He patted his stomach.
Faintly suspicious, she said, “What are you up to?” But she rose on her knees, having to pull up her nightgown a bit to manage it, climbed over him, and sat on his stomach with a little bounce that made him gasp. “Like that?”
“Oof! Yes, like that.”
Her thighs bracketed him. He stroked them, slowly, sensually.
The heat of his body soaked into her and she felt a warm tide of desire rippling through her like a wave. This was a bad idea. She was getting all fired up and to no purpose.
She started to move off him. “I don’t think—”
His big hand clamped around her knee and pushed it back. “Trust me.” He lay looking up at her, his eyes half closed like a big lazy cat. A big, gorgeous, annoying lazy cat.
“Thomas, I—”
“I said, trust me.” He pushed the flannel higher, inching it up along her legs, and the sensation of his big callused hands against the soft inner skin of her thighs... She shivered deliciously. He pushed it up over her bottom, cupping and kneading her buttocks, all the time with a knowing half smile lurking in his eyes.
The nightgown lay in folds around her waist; she was wholly exposed to him. He slipped his hand in between her thighs, teasing the nest of golden curls at her apex, then cupping her firmly. Her whole insides clenched. She arched her back, but a warning twinge pulled her back to reality.
“It’s no good, I—”
“Let’s just see. It’s stretching your back or your arms that’s the problem, isn’t it? So try not moving at all.”
“Try not moving—” she began indignantly, then broke off as his fingers moved and the ripples intensified. Her breath hitched in a series of gasps.
She bent to kiss him and the sharp pain of her injury brought her smartly upright again. “Thomas, stop it. I can’t.”
“Have a little patience.”
She glared down at him. “Patience? This is Rose here, not Saint Rose!”
He chuckled. “I wouldn’t be doing this to Saint Rose, now would I?” He caressed her slick folds, teasing and stroking, sending waves of sensation through her.
“Now, rise up on your knees.”
“What? Now?” She was almost at climax point and her legs had no strength in them at all. But his strong hands held her by the hips and lifted her and she had no choice but to raise herself off him.
He moved and suddenly she felt him, hard and hot, nudging against her entrance. “Thomas?” She looked down at where they were not quite joined.
“Now it’s up to you. Slide down.”
She blinked, not quite understanding.
“You don’t need to stretch out or bend your back, so it shouldn’t hurt. Just lower yourself onto me.” His voice was a little hoarse, his eyes were clenched shut as if he were in pain. “Ride me.”
Tentatively she lowered herself and felt him sliding into her. “Ohhh.”
She lifted herself up, and his eyes flew open. “For God’s sake, don’t stop.”
Ah, so it wasn’t pain at all. She lowered herself again, feeling the intoxicating fullness slide into her, then rose again. Down. Up. And suddenly she saw what he meant byRide me.
She moved, experimenting with angles and movements. And different speeds. He held her tight around the hips, helping her, guiding her. Keeping her steady, protecting her injury.
She squeezed her inner muscles around him and was rewarded with moaning appreciation, and anguish, and jagged, raw need. Oh, this was glorious. Pleasure rocked through her. She rode him slow at first, then faster and faster until he groaned and gasped and bucked beneath her, thrusting himself upward, hard and hard and hard, and she was riding and he was bucking and it was a fierce, hard, glorious mating.
They moved together as one, driven, oblivious, urgent,and she sobbed and cried out his name as she shattered into a million fiery sparks and if there was pain, she wasn’t aware of it, and his big hands held her safe and lowered her gently until she was lying against his chest.
When she came to herself, she was still lying on top of Thomas, still joined to him, boneless and sated and sublimely peaceful.
