“Minx.” He slid his hands into her as her head bobbed up and down, fallen strands of hair brushing against his thighs as she tasted him, pulling off before taking him deeply inside again.
His thumb traced over her brow. “Easy, sweet.”
Gently, he pulled her off him, then stood and disrobed, bracing an arm on the bedpost to pull his boots off. After removing his shoes too and being fully bare, he slowly climbed up onto the bed with her.
When he had crawled over on top of her, she could do nothing other than revel in his closeness and the moment his lips found hers again, she kissed him back enthusiastically. After he withdrew his mouth from hers, it was to nip and lick and kiss his way over her chin and down her neck to her collarbone.
He pressed his mouth to her pulse point, the vital throb leaping beneath his tongue. His mouth strayed to her breasts next, the pouting peaks begging for his attention, and the moment his hot mouth developed a tip, she gasped in pleasure.
“William!”
“Enjoy it, sweetheart,” he whispered devilishly, his fingers teasing the taut bud of the other before suckling on that one as well.
He lingered there, licking and teasing her buds, and Bridget could not find it in herself to be ashamed—or concerned—about the wetness coating her core.
She speared her finger into his hair and shivered at the fine pinpricks of his light beard and the cool air that drifted onto her heated skin from the window. She felt beautiful and womanly with him, and the look in his eyes, when she did meet them, was primitive as it was playful.
Bridget felt utterly wanton. The sensations of this man, the heat of him over her, wanting her, loving her, rubbing and tantalizing her naked skin, persuaded her to let her legs fall open so that she could cradle his hips and thighs.
Oh God, I want him everywhere.
Dipping his fingers into the thicket of her curls, he spread her slick wetness upward, pleasuring her with her own desire—a moment before his tongue invaded her folds and slicked over her pearl repeatedly and his fingers pumped her with firm, upward thrusts.
Embarrassment be damned. This was too good to be tarnished by shame. She found herself writhing and thrusting in perfect accord with his ministrations.
She reached for something, so close, so close. Whimpering and panting, she could not help but give in to his ministrations. “William, please, I—I need—”
What did she need?
“I know what you crave, sweetheart,” he pressed his mouth to her belly. “Find those Letters for me.”
The sheaths would stop her from increasing with his child—she knew it; but felt—maybe foolishly—that she wanted to feel all of him. “William… I’d prefer if you didn’t.”
He rose to his elbows and looked at her searchingly. “Are you sure?”
“Very,” she replied, a twinge of nervousness trembling in her words.
Canting her hips, he sat back on his haunches and pulled her thighs over his, stroking her skin comfortingly.
“Keep your eyes on me,” he whispered before leaning in and pressing his member softly to her entrance.
Gently, he breached her virginal muscles, her throat tightening as he slowly slipped in deeper. Bridget forced herself to be calm as he made her body swell and stretch, but she kept his gaze. Sweat misted his brow and his muscles bulged with the effort to hold back.
“I want to be yours,” she whispered.
Feeling her resistance, he fixed his jaw, and with a snap of his hips, claimed her with a firm thrust, wanting to make her pain as fleeting as possible.
The intimate pinch made her wince, but soon enough, the pain faded and he bent his head and kissed her, moving his hips in shallow thrusts.
“Your snug heat is incredible,” he murmured raggedly, finding her hand and intertwining his fingers in between hers, “You are mine,” he affirmed huskily, the truth escaping his lips.
“I want to only be yours.” She trembled, the sheen in her eyes undoing his control.
Her breathy cries urged him on and each deep thrust had the tide of pleasure surging higher. Dipping his head, he captured her plump nipple between his lips, sucking fiercely as his pace increased and he pounded into her deeper.
Bridget could not get enough of the friction, the rough hair on his chest, the scrape of his calluses on her skin, and she ground herself against him.
By now, she was panting his name, her eyes dazed with ecstasy; endearments, hot words of lust and love came out of William's mouth, perhaps without logical consent and flutters started deep inside her belly, her channel spasming, the contractions milking his length.
