“Then let me help you over.” The dratted man pinched her nipple, rolled that hardened tip. The pleasure-pain sent her hurtling toward that glimmering edge. His chuckle was all too satisfied as he increased the pressure. “Don’t fight it, Lavinia. Let me see you come undone. Your first release as my wife.”
Those words made her shatter, and the more she relaxed into his care, the greater the wave of bliss smacked into her, picked her up, and then carried her into that void where sound and light didn’t exist. Lavinia screamed out her pleasure. She writhed on his lap, held his hand tighter to her button while familiar contractions pulsed through her core.
Eventually, she came back to herself with only enough strength to slump against him. “Your potency certainly hasn’t faded.”
“Of course not. I was merely lost for a bit.” He nuzzled the crook of her shoulder again before he eased her off his lap. “But I’m not nearly done tonight.” He stood, caught her hand and then divested her of the nightwear. “Beautiful.”
Lavinia fought off a blush as he raked his gaze up and down her nude body. “You’ve seen me before.”
“Not as my wife.” He tugged her into his arms and claimed her lips in a series of gentle kisses that left her reeling and as weak-kneed as if he’d sent her flying again. “It’s different now, and I am trying to make an effort.”
Those words had indeed been correct, for rarely had he pleasured her without wanting her to do the same to him. “So I can see.” This time with him had been as different as day was to night from the intercourse they’d had following their wedding. She trailed her fingers down his chest, plucking at the lawn of his shirt. “Perhaps you should remove this, hmm?”
“Of course.” Percival stepped back from her while Lavinia slipped into bed.
The anemic candlelight winked off her emerald ring while she unashamedly observed him undress. One of her favorite things was when he shed his clothing in front of her, and tonight didn’t disappoint. As soon as his chest was bare, she sucked in a breath of appreciation. Her heartbeat accelerated, for he truly was an attractive man.
Shadows contoured the ridges of his mostly flat abdomen. A mat of black hair spread over his chest in an abstract butterfly pattern. How well she remembered what that coarse design felt like against her sensitive nipples. A shiver went down her spine. Delicious tingles danced through her lower belly as he removed his boots and finally his breeches to reveal lean, muscled thighs and calves. His engorged length sprang from a nest of black curls. Oh, how she’d missed manipulating that rampant shaft, holding him on the edge of pleasure before giving in. For the space of a few heartbeats, he stood immobile as if giving her time to properly appreciate him.
“Percival, you already know how much I adore your form. There is no need to posture.” A feeling of restless hunger coiled within her body. If he didn’t join with her soon, she’d surely explode. “Come.”
“That is the general idea.” With a cheeky grin, he joined her on the bed, covering her body with his.
She sighed, for the familiar weight of him, the scent of him, the touch of his hands on her skin brought back so many memories yet even this was slightly different. “I’m not too proud to say that I’ve missed this.” When she reached for his shaft, he caught her wrists and pinned them above her head with one hand.
“None of that. This night is for your pleasure.”
“What? You don’t wish for me to do all the usual things to you?”
“Not tonight.”
As she marveled at that, peered into his face, and saw nothing but honesty and desire, surprise shifted to wonder. Rarely had he ever seen to her needs before his. “What of a sheath? Shall I put one on you?” She had no time for pregnancy nor disease, and of the two, disease was the most devastating.
Emotions she couldn’t read clouded his dark eyes. “There is no need. We are married. I have no intention of having another in my bed and…” Sadness mixed with hope deep in those depths. “Perhaps we shouldn’t wait to see if we’ll be blessed with children,” he added in a barely audible voice. “If you are of the same mind?”
“Well, I…” It was hardly appropriate subject matter to discuss during bed sport.
“If you’d prefer not to, I’ll understand.” A certain wistfulness had set up in his voice that played with her heart strings. “It might prove too painful after what you’ve already gone through.”
“As you said, we’re married, and I have long wished to be a mother, but my previous life prevented that.” To her mortification, tears sprang to her eyes. “This means you are serious about making our marriage more than the mockery it began as?”
“Yes. Somehow, I think we both need that.”
“Oh.” Where had the man she’d used to know gone? No more words were spoken, for he set out to explore every inch of her body with his lips, tongue, and teeth, and when he finally released her wrists, his hands and fingers were seemingly everywhere.
By the time he returned to her lips, she balanced on the edge of bliss and insanity. It wouldn’t take much to make her come undone, and she shook from the sensations that swamped her. “Finish me. I can take no more of this teasing.” Her voice sounded raspy from the force of the emotions swirling through her body. She tugged on his shoulders in an effort to bring him closer, caught his head between her palms to kiss him and perhaps urge him to finally penetrate her, bring a surcease to the throbbing need between her thighs.
“Are you in great distress, Countess?” he murmured against the side of her neck before pressing a line of baby-fine kisses beneath her jaw. “We surely cannot have that.”
This was so different—he was different! —that she couldn’t catch her breath from the change. Lavinia squirmed beneath him, shoved a hand between them to take him in hand. The silky hardness of him sent her ever closer to release as she guided him to where she wanted him the most. The wide head of his shaft glanced over her highly sensitive button, and she shuddered from the exquisite sensations. “Now.”
He complied without argument or more teasing. With a powerful flex of his hips, he speared into her and didn’t stop until she was fully impaled. “Damn, but I’ve missed this,” he whispered against the shell of her ear. “Missed your honeyed heat. Hell, I’ve missed you and the closeness we had before.”
“I have as well.” She looped her arms about his broad shoulders, lifted her legs and fitted them around his waist. The thick girth of him filled her all too well, and as he pulled back only to repeat the opening salvo, a satisfied sigh escaped her.
This was what her wedding night should have been like instead of being treated to drunken fumblings.
And then he moved, treating her to gentle, languid strokes that only served to enhance the feelings of madness flitting about the perimeter of her consciousness. The coupling went beyond mere intercourse. Percival essentially made love to her. Never before had he joined with her in such care and devotion. The change brought tears to her eyes, and she forgot to match the rhythm he’d set. Instead, she let herself surrender for the first time since they’d been together, gave herself permission to enjoy the act instead of work for it.