“Michael?”
He swallowed. “I do not deserve you.”
She stilled. “Do you remember telling me that I was worth it?”
“You are.”
“So are you.” She opened her eyes. “Look at me.”
He did, and his breath caught at the adoration in her gaze.
“You must understand this. The doubts you are having right now are precisely why I wanted you to be my first. Your care. Your tenderness. Your desire that I be treated like a goddess. You are a good man. And the only one I want.”
You are a good man.Words he had not heard in four years, and Michael’s chest tightened until he could not breathe. He kissed her, his hands roaming over her, caressing her face, chest, sides, and stomach. Inhaling deeply, he braced on his forearms on either side of her body and settled his hips between her legs. The feel of her skin against his soothed him with a lingering comfort, even as it urged on his desire. He stroked her hair, whispering, “You are my redemption.”
Her eyebrows arched. “Of course, I am. What else is a goddess good for?”
He laughed. “Shall I show you?”
“Please.”
*
Clara closed hereyes. Michael remained still, and she could feel his breath against her neck. Slowly, so lightly she barely felt it, his fingertips glided over her skin. Starting just behind her right ear, he traced down her shoulder and across the mounds of her breasts. The caresses almost tickled, and she shivered as he circled one breast, then the other, pausing only to lick each nipple, then to blow a stream of air over them.
Her breath hitched. The simple action sent a crazed wave of arousal through her and she squirmed as a deep need spread between her legs. She felt oddly empty, a feeling that intensified when Michael cupped one breast and sucked hard on the nipple, pulling it into his mouth and closing his teeth on the taut bud. She jerked, suddenly pulling on the cravat, desperate to touch him.
“No, love,” he whispered. “Just feel.”
She whimpered as he moved his attention to the other breast, a rhythm he continued, attending to one enflamed nipple, then the other, until her world shrank to the flaring arousal that consumed her. Heat seemed to build within her, a stoked fire, as he pinched or nipped harder until she moaned, writhing beneath him. He would then kiss and lick the nipple, an exchange of sting and solace that made her lightheaded.
“Michael!”
“Hm?” He kissed her stomach, his fingers stroking her hips.
The need in her was a haunting ache. “Please. I want more.”
He brushed his mouth through the curls over her sex. “More? Like before?” He ran a finger up and down her slit, which felt as if it had been flooded.
“Yes!”
His fingers delved into the tender folds between her legs, and her arousal surged through her. “Here?”
“Please!”
He spread her with his hands, teasing her with his tongue, brushing it over the hard bud at the top. “You are glorious.”
“Michael!”
With a low chuckle, he moved up over her, pressing his hips against hers as he kissed her again. She felt the hardness of his cock against her and raised her hips to meet him, sucking hard on his tongue. He broke off the kiss, stroking her hair again, his lips closer to her ear. His soft words barely registered on her.
“This will be different. More pressure. It may be a little painful. If it is too much, you will stop me.”
She nodded even as she declared, “I will not.”
He chuckled again, then shifted his weight slightly as he slid one hand under her thigh and lifted her knee. “Raise both your knees when I begin. It will be easier.”
She licked her lips, the need for him like a living animal within her, needing to be fed. Clara waited, pushing her head back against the mattress as she felt the first pressure of his cock against her opening.
