Chapter Twelve #3
“I am. Of course I am.” With a half groan, half growl, he took her breasts in his hands, rubbed the pads of his thumbs along her nipples, and he rolled those distended tips until she moaned.
Needing to feel more of her, he laid back on his bed.
God, she truly was his world; how had he denied it for so long?
How the hell could he have run from this, from her?
His hands went down her sides and at her buttocks, he held them, further spreading her open, and he reveled in how her body glided against his, how every tiny movement and breath had need shuddering into his length. “I want you.”
“Haven’t I already given you my permission?” She rose onto her knees and took his painfully rigid shaft in her hand.
“Yes, but it’s different this time.” That touch nearly had him shooting off his wad. Need careened down his spine. He curled a hand about her hip, for they’d not coupled like this since the beginning of their union. “Let me help…”
“Shh.” She stroked her hand up and down his length.
Bliss was so close and held literally in her palm.
At his gasp, she giggled, leaned over him, the ends of her hair teasing and hurtling him closer to the edge.
Seconds later, her lips were pressed to his.
When he would have taken control and kissed her senseless, she grinned and once more straddled him. “You are a remarkable man.”
“Even while lost?”
“Even then.” Watching him the whole time, Emma fit the head of his member to her opening. Slowly, so damned slowly, she sank down on him until he’d fully filled her.
“Gammon,” he managed to whisper. Her honeyed heat was nothing short of heaven. Cecil gripped her hips and guided her off his shaft merely for the wonder of thrusting upward into her body once more. “None of it is possible without you.”
“I almost believe you.” He felt rather than saw her wink. When she shoved her hands up his chest, and clutched his shoulders, she shifted her stance and leaned over him, rocked her hips, ground upon him. Seconds later, intense sensations of pleasure flooded him.
Putting his hands on her waist, he ignored the urgent throbbing in his shaft.
With tensed muscles, he flipped them both over then settled between her bent knees.
He kissed her in the hope that would cool the heat in his blood, but she wasn’t content with that.
Emma’s hands were seemingly everywhere, and each flitting touch, every caress sent him careening closer to the edge before he’d claimed her body.
“Please say something.” He’d barely gotten his fill of tasting, sucking, nipping her pebbled nipples when she’d sneaked a hand between them to fondle his equipage.
Need tingled through his stones. A groan escaped.
Desire zipped along his nerve endings, igniting his blood, and his shaft jumped with urgency.
She licked a path beneath his jaw. “Finish me before I go mad.”
“Ha. We cannot both be that, can we?” Cecil encouraged one of her legs upward.
When he felt the soft smile curving her lips, his heart trembled.
Then the remainder of his thoughts flew from his mind, for he thrust into her sheath once more.
His groan mingled with hers, for she welcomed him home like no one else had ever been able to do.
And he never wished to go anywhere else.
The hold on his control snapped. Again and again, he stroked into her, went as deep as possible.
She held onto the forearms he used to anchor himself.
The muscles on his left side protested, but he pushed through the pain, for she was well worth it.
Once they fell into that familiar rhythm, she canted her hips, met each of his pushes just as she always had since that first time together.
Hot, frantic need slammed through his body.
Over and over, he claimed his wife, showing her with his actions that he adored her beyond measure.
Again, and perhaps in a better way that only time would tell.
Then she shifted position, wrapping her legs about his waist, and he leaned over her.
The new angle was apparently pleasing, for she caught her breath, looped her arms about his shoulders.
“Yes, oh yes.” Tiny pinpricks of pain from her nails digging into his skin urged him onward, as did the sounds of delighted pleasure she made.
Was that in answer to his earlier question or what he was doing to her?
All too soon, the unrelenting pressure demanded his attention.
Tingling need went through his stones, bringing them close to his body.
His shaft jerked. He pistoned his hips faster, thrust into her with so much purpose the sound of flesh hitting flesh blended with the erratic sound of their ragged breathing.
Her hold on him slipped. With a cry her body stiffened.
Those slick feminine walls contracted around his length so intensely that it pulled him into his own release.
With one more deep stroke, he came—hard; his length pulsed as if it objected to being neglected.
A strangled shout left his throat, merged seamlessly with her scream of repletion seconds before he collapsed into her.
His member jerked and jumped, and for the first time since he’d kidnapped her, he hadn’t withdrawn with orgasm.
“Ah, Emma. What am I to do with you?” He wrapped his arms around her, content to hold her, and he pressed tiny, feather weighted kisses to her cheeks, her chin, her forehead, her closed eyelids. Salt came away on his lips; she was crying. “Are you well?”
“Yes.” She slipped a hand to his nape and found his mouth with hers. “I have missed you and this coupling felt so different from the others.”
“It did.” Had she noticed that after he’d fucked her senseless, he’d literally come with her? If this coupling resulted in a child, how would he react? He didn’t know, but oddly, he looked forward to that conversation.
The warmth of her breath skated over his upper chest and chin. It was one of the most trusting things he could have imagined. Perhaps there wasn’t a need for words after all, at least not right now. Cecil drew her against him and he closed his eyes.
If fate were kind, he would sleep uninterrupted util the morning