Chapter Twenty-Four #4
Kathryn laughed. “Come now! It cannot be that difficult to tell me something about yourself?”
“I am glad you came to the dig today.”
Her face softened. “Thank you.”
“And I am glad we are married,” he said, surprising both of them.
Her eyes became dangerously glassy. “Oh. That’s—that’s lovely.” She gave a watery laugh. “But it is not really something about you, is it? But I like it, all the same. I like it very much.”
Gerrit allowed himself to revel a bit in her approval. “I will try to think of something interesting to tell you, er, tomorrow night.”
She laughed again and squeezed his hand.
He plucked at her dressing gown, which was, he suspected, all she wore. “I want to take this off you,” he said, done with talking.
Thankfully, she nodded, and he slid the garment from her shoulders and then tugged it from beneath her, hesitating a moment before dropping it off the bed.
Kathryn pulled the sheet up to cover her chest. “It bothers you to leave that on the floor, doesn’t it?”
Were his thoughts really so transparent? That should worry him more than it did. “Bother is too strong—but I do get a queasy twinge when there is disorganization or clutter.”
“Even if you can’t see it?”
“Not so much,” he said, which was not really a lie. Or at least a very small one. But the last thing he wanted to do while he had his beautiful, naked wife in his bed was scurry around his bedchamber folding clothing.
Gerrit gently pulled down the soft sheet and she released it. He gave a rumble of approval and cupped one of her breasts, the pink tip already hard.
She hissed and her head tipped back, her chest thrusting toward him.
He teased each nipple in turn, until she was trembling, and then lifted her leg and draped her thigh over his hip before using his cock to stroke and caress her to climax.
She was still shuddering when he entered her, rolling his hips in slow, gentle waves as he had wanted to do times beyond counting but was always too eager to wait.
When the last echoes of her orgasm faded, he reached between their bodies and employed gentle but firm pressure to draw out a second orgasm, or perhaps just a continuation of the first.
Gerrit stilled his thrusting, keeping himself buried deep inside her as the spasms gradually diminished. Her eyelids lifted lazily, a satisfied smile curving her lips as he flexed his erection in the tight clasp of her body.
“Where did you learn such a clever trick?” she murmured.
“What—this?” Again he flexed his cock.
She chortled. “That is pretty clever, too. But no, I meant the other—the way you draw out my pleasure.”
It had been his first lover, the mistress his father had engaged for him on his fifteenth birthday, who’d taught him most of what he knew when it came to women’s bodies, but—for once—he did not tell the truth, which he strongly suspected she might not like.
“Trick?” he repeated, raising his eyebrows in a purposely arrogant fashion. “I don’t know what you mean.”
She allowed herself to be diverted, laughing softly as she lifted a hand and rubbed his chest, teasing one of his nipples with her palm before moving lower and lower.
Gerrit gave a muffled groan, and his hips began to move. He worked her with deep, leisurely thrusts as she stroked his abdomen, her fingers strumming the taut striations.
Her eyes danced with mischief as she lifted them to his. “You like that.” It was not a question.
Gerrit had to grit his teeth to hold back another moan as she dug into a particularly sensitive spot, her strong fingers stroking him in an odd sort of rhythm.
It took him a moment or two to decide what it felt like. Gerrit lifted one eyebrow. “Are you playing me like a harp, Kathryn?”
She gave an intoxicating, joyous laugh. “Yes, I am, Gerrit.”
“I didn’t know you played,” he said, his voice thick with pleasure.
“I don’t.”
“I beg to differ; you are a virtuosa.” His voice broke on the last word, and he thrust deep and hard, losing himself in his release.
Gerrit forced his heavy eyelids up once he’d floated back to consciousness. He was vaguely aware that Kathryn was caressing his back.
“Rest, Gerrit.”
Just for a moment, he thought.
But he must have fallen asleep because when he opened his eyes the candle was guttering in the socket. Amazingly, his cock was still inside his sleeping wife and once again hard.
He rolled his hips, slowly rousing her from her slumber, amused when she did not wake fully until her climax was upon her.
The next time he woke there was no light from the candle and none seeping from between the drapes.
It took him a moment to realize what had wakened him was his wife’s hand, lightly stroking the taut skin of his belly.
“I want you again,” she whispered in the darkness.
Heat roared through his body as Gerrit flipped her onto her back and gave her what she asked for, their lovemaking wild and hungry.
When Court came to wake him just after dawn Gerrit saw that his bed was empty. Only the faint scent of lavender and a spiral of red hair on his pillow proved that it had not all been a dream.