Chapter 23
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Lydia was almost certain this was a sin. Nothing that felt this good could be anything but sinful—she knew from church that the most deliciously dark pleasures came from the devil and not from God.
And now, the devil was between her legs, his tongue flicking against her pearl, and she felt as though she had transcended into another being altogether. With every lap of his tongue, he was molding her into something else.
Something terribly wicked.
She loved every second!
His fingers dug into the flesh at her hips, and she reached down to thread her fingers through his hair. His attentions had stuck words from her, but she wanted to show him how much she enjoyed what he was doing. Every time he pressed the flat of his tongue against her, she shuddered.
And just as before, he brought her closer and closer to that wonderful peak of pleasure. She could not help it; she would never be able to help it, she realized.
This was the second time he had tasted her there, and yet it was so much better than the first. Her husband was here, and he had admitted to so much. His reticence did not come from a lack of affection for her, but rather lingering wounds that had yet to heal…
So be it! She would tend to them herself. Replace his cravings with those of a different kind—and she had plenty of ideas how to help him there.
Now, for example, his hands did not tremble, and when he came up to look at her with midnight eyes, she knew for certain he was not thinking about laudanum or grief or sleep or anything else he had indulged in these past few years…
All he was thinking of was her.
That was how it should be. And to encourage the matter, she ground her hips against his face. Immediately, he growled his appreciation.
“Such a greedy little thing you are,” he groaned lusciously, pressing the words into her skin. “Ride me. Take your pleasure.” His voice lowered still further, rumbling deliciously through her. “Use me.”
What a tantalizing request! And how easy to follow…
His hands steadied her, but left her free to move as she wanted, and he positioned himself so she could control how fast she rocked against him, and where she wanted his tongue.
The reality of taking her pleasure was even better than the concept, and it took only a few more seconds for her to tip over the edge. Her fingers fisted in the sheets, her back arched, and all the while, Alexander guided her through it.
Only when she was satiated and spent did he rise above her once more, his rock-hard stomach against hers, his thighs pressing against her inner thighs as she made room for him. His fingers went to her folds, pressing inside her with a gentle motion that made her breath catch.
“I’m preparing you for me,” he breathed to her answer to her silent question. “There’s a chance—there’s a chance it might hurt.”
“That is all right.” She would endure any amount of pain to know how it felt to have him inside her. “Please, Alexander…”
“Just a few moments more.” He slid a second finger inside her, the stretch easy; her climax had rendered her relaxed and so wet, he brought his fingers to his mouth and licked her juices from himself.
She found this gesture, too, incredibly erotic, and the tender flesh between her thighs throbbed with urgency.
This wasn’t enough.
At her impatience, he chuckled a little and reached up to kiss her as he lowered himself fully over her body at last. She could have cried with relief when he placed his tip at her entrance.
Then, as he drew small circles on her sensitive folds, he pushed.
Slowly, slowly, sliding past her tightness.
The stretch was exquisite, burning almost to the point of pain.
She couldn’t help herself; she gasped, almost in shock.
Alexander paused. “Is this all right?” His voice sounded strained.
“Yes.” Acting more on instinct than knowledge, she tilted her hips, and the changed angle sent him fully in, so he was fully seated within her. As promised, the sensation burned, a sharp sensation that had her panting a little.
“It’s all right,” he murmured, kissing her and kissing her, his fingers still working her. “I’m here. It’ll fade in a moment.”
To her relief, he was right, and her muscles began to relax all over again.
The pain faded, became manageable, and she moved experimentally, the softness of the mattress giving her space to roll her hips up and down his shaft.
Other sensations took over, replacing the burn—pleasure, tightness, fullness.
He was so deep inside her that she felt as though they had merged irrevocably together.
Like this, braced above her, one hand cupping her cheek, the other pressed against the mattress by her head, they were one. Just as marriage ought to be.
Oddly, bizarrely, painfully, her heart gave a lurch in her chest.
So this was true union.
Now that the moment had come, she felt as though she had spent the past few days wobbling on the very edge of a precipice, and only now did she look down to see how far she had to fall.
She could love him—had already begun to love him!
And knowing that her heart was just as much for the taking as her innocence made her feel raw in an entirely new way…
Despite his occasional coldness to her, despite his fire, he had come to her. He had confessed everything. Even now, in the growing light of day, she sensed openness in his expression as he stared down at her, searching her face.
They were suspended there in silence, waiting for—who knew? This was all so entirely new for her, and by the expression on his face, it was new for him, too. He might have lain with a woman before, but he had never done so with his wife. That was her honor.
“Are you all right, my little temptress?” he murmured, his nose brushing hers. “Does it still hurt?”
Her heart ached with how full it was, but she summoned a gentle smile for him, sliding her hands down his sides. “Show me,” she whispered. “Show me what pleasure there is in joining…”
He gritted his teeth. “Careful, lest I ruin you until you only ever crave my touch.”
“Then ruin me completely. I want nothing left of who I was before you.”
He half laughed, his face tight with concentration, and withdrew from her only to sinuously slide back in. They found their rhythm, and she matched every thrust, rocking with him, letting him know with her body that she was here in the moment.
Once he knew she was all right, he brought his hand back between her legs, sitting up so she could admire his torso, and to gain him better access. She caught her legs, hooking her arms over the back of her knees to pull them out of the way.
Alexander’s eyes sparked as he looked down at her, his thumb right where she needed it, pressing against her little nub of pleasure. “You are every man’s dream,” he told her raspily.
“I don’t need to be every man’s.” She struggled to find the words exactly. “Just yours.”
His other hand found her breast. “I love these. Ever since the beginning, I couldn’t stop thinking about them.” He rubbed her faster, and she thought she saw stars. “You are everything I could have ever dreamed…”
She whimpered, beyond words now, teased both by everything he was saying and everything his body was doing to hers.
It was inevitable, really, that she would find her peak again, the sensations so heightened by him being inside her. As she tipped over the edge, Alexander reached down and took her chin.
“Look at me,” he demanded. “I want you to look at me.”
Almost sobbing with how good it felt, the pleasure crashing through her entire body, overwhelming her, she did as he commanded, spasming on him as he continued to move inside her, giving her no space to recover, his fingers still on her chin.
She could smell herself on him; she could feel every inch of his shaft as he moved in and out of her in that relentless rhythm.
There was something about the remorselessness of the action, the way his gaze held her captive as his body worked hers, that brought her to the edge all over again.
She didn’t know where one climax ended and the other began.
All she knew was she had become something new under his touch—and she had already known that, but now she realized anew that there were no more barriers; she could be capable of so much more than she had ever known…
Her horizons broadened.
And all the while, he kept thrusting inside her, claiming her in a primal way that added to the fire in her core.
She loved him.
How could she not when he made her feel like this?
When his face felt like a safe haven in the rage of overwhelming pleasure roiling through her body?
He was the one who made her feel like this, and she would never stop loving him for that alone.
“Alexander…” she whispered.
He slowed, shaking his head, and cursed under his breath. “That was incredible, sweetheart. I don’t want it to end.”
She didn’t either, but she also didn’t know how long she could keep going. The sensitivity was either the most perfect she had ever experienced, or too sensitive. It was the most exquisite kind of pain—so different from the burn of the stretch before.
“You are better than I could ever have imagined.” He shook his head in disbelief, then moved back down so his chest pressed against hers, his face so much closer.
As much as she had loved the sight of him towering over her, she loved this even more—the intimacy of being skin against skin, heart against heart.
She released her legs, wrapping her arms around his back instead, and he pressed trembling kisses against her forehead, cheeks, nose, lips.
“I won’t last much longer…” he growled against her.
“Neither can I.”
He chuckled lowly and buried his face in her neck. His thrusts grew fractured, and she tugged at his hair, needing to see the play of pleasure across his face. Just as he had seen hers. She wanted everything.