Chapter 9 #2
When his lips found her ear, she thought the sensation would send her flying through the ceiling.
When his hand covered her hard nipple, and his lips found the other, sucking on it lightly through the material, she gasped and never wanted him to stop.
He knew every hidden sweet spot, and she liked letting him explore her body.
In turn, she experimented with the tricks he’d just used, enjoying his response to her touch.
She nibbled at the juncture of his neck and chin, reveling in his reaction as he gathered her to him.
When she tugged on his shirt, he helped pull it off.
She ran her hands over his shoulders and down his back.
Her fingers slipped under his breeches and grazed the top of his buttocks.
She wanted more. She wanted all he had to offer.
Did she know what she was doing?
Oh, yes.
She let her fingertips travel around his waist until they were tantalizingly close to that hard line of his desire. She found a button. She twisted it. Her movements were clumsy. The button wouldn’t give.
He pushed himself up, bracing himself on his forearms. “We should stop.” His voice sounded husky.
The moonlight hit the hard, masculine planes of his chest and shoulders as he started to move away from her. She threw an arm around him. “No.”
“Celeste—” he started in a warning voice, but then the tips of her fingers slipped beneath the waist of his breeches and found the smooth, velvety head of his maleness.
He sucked in his breath. A surge of warmth and need gathered between her legs.
She moved her hips, her breasts had gone hard and full, and she yearned for him.
He began unbuttoning his breeches. She bit back a moan of desire as his manhood sprang to life, finally free of restrictions. He levered up and sat on the edge of the bed to remove his boots. First, one hit the floor, then the other. Celeste ran a hand up and down his arm, needing to touch him.
He stood. His breeches joined his boots, and he was gloriously naked.
Celeste rose from the bed and struggled out of her dressing gown. He reached to help her, and then he pulled the nightdress over her head.
She sucked in her breath, shy at being stripped of all artifice in front of him. She was being too bold—
“You are beautiful,” he whispered.
She might have laughed at such a statement, except he looked at her as if her body was a marvel, as if looking at her pleased him. And for the first time, she believed she did possess beauty. Her heart filled with joy and she fell into his arms.
It felt good to have her naked skin against his. Their kisses became more passionate, more demanding. He covered her with his body, and she cradled him between her legs.
His manhood pressed against her. Instinctively, she braced herself and then slowly drew in her breath as he entered her.
This was what they claimed was the secret to life. This was what the poets lauded and women whispered over.
And this was a bit of a disappointment.
Her body stretched to accommodate him. The feeling was alien, not uncomfortable, but not, well, she hadn’t known what to expect.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
She nodded, holding her breath.
“You are lying,” he said with a chuckle. Inside her, she felt his manhood move with the motion of his laughter, and it startled her.
She released her breath. “I felt that.”
“You are going to feel more.” He slid an arm under her back, bringing her into his protective embrace. “This may hurt, Celeste. I’m sorry. But the pain should not last.”
“I trust you.”
He kissed her, a quick, hard kiss that distracted her as he suddenly thrust deep.
There was a sharp pain. She jerked as if to escape. He held her fast, not moving, as if he were attempting to absorb her discomfort with his own body. To her surprise, the pain quickly ebbed. She discovered she liked having him inside her.
“All good?” he rasped out.
She nodded, her breasts moving against his chest. He began rocking against her, his thrusts gentle at first but taking on more force as she began rising up to meet him.
Every time he touched the center of her, she felt tiny starbursts going off. She found herself striving for them, wanting more. Always more.
His heavy breathing matched her own. Her legs now hugged his hips, pulling him into her. Deeper. Deeper. And then—
A sharp, bright pinnacle of emotion seized her. Wave after wave of sensation flowed through her.
He knew what was happening. His movements became more directed, harder, faster. Once, twice, and the third thrust sent him to his own satisfaction.
With a sense of wonder, Celeste realized this was what they meant when they said that two should become one. She was one with Oliver. She was his.
He whispered her name. It sounded like a benediction, and then he collapsed over to one side of her body so that she would not have to bear the brunt of his weight.
She made a disconsolate sound as he slipped out of her, his seed spent.
He reached for the counterpane and pulled it over them.
They lay entwined, Celeste lost in wave after rippling wave of pleasure.
Oliver pressed his lips to her temple. His arm came around her beneath the coverlet. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
She kissed his forearm. “Yes, you should have.” Her voice had a purr to it.
“Celeste, I meant—”
“I know what you meant,” she interrupted him. “It was amazing. The best experience of my life.”
“You are the best thing I’ve experienced in my life.” He kissed her cheek, her nose, her mouth.
She curled up against him, needing his warmth.
“I like you, too.” She rubbed her palm against his skin at the hip.
He was saying something to her, but she didn’t listen.
She didn’t want to think. She didn’t want to worry.
She just wanted to love. In this moment, her love for him was all that mattered.
In that fashion, she fell into one of the deepest, most peaceful sleeps she’d ever experienced. She had found where she belonged—beside him. Wrapped in his arms, she dreamed of his kisses, of him saying he loved her and all would be well, that she could trust him.
Yes, trust. Love was trust, and she loved him very much.
The next morning, she woke to find herself in an empty bed.