“If I might…” he placed his hands at her side and touched his wife’s waist for the first time. She curved in at the sides with a small swell where she’d carried Phineas. He rested his hand there tentatively, wanting to touch the strength, to love that place specifically.
“Oh, but it’s…” she said, looking down at where he cradled her stomach.
“Do you dislike it?”
“No,” she said, easing down to sit upon the bed as if her legs too felt weak.
Erasmus took her hand and examined the skin that had once been broken, scarred, and rough. It was now smooth, with white lines where she’d healed. He kissed every mark.
“You’ve been using the salve while I was away?” he asked, continuing to make love to those delicate fingers he’d sell his soul to feel on his heated skin.
“I have,” she said softly. “I’ve been healing while you were away.”
Chapter 6
Amy Mangevileyn had aproblem. A delicious problem:
She desperately wanted her husband.
She wanted him more than another slice of that fine Michaelmas bannock. When he washed before her, she wanted to beg him to come to her in his sweat, dust, and musk, rub his scent into her skin. She’d been sleeping on his pillow, turning her face into the down so she could take him in from afar.
Over time, the scent on his pillow had faded. And all the while, her need for him had grown.
She’d finally recognized why her breasts felt heavy sometimes when he was near. Imagined him in their bed and found her spot growing slick, easing the way for his manhood.
For months, she’d argued with herself. Could he possibly want her — far from a virgin, and well he knew! — in such a way? Perhaps he didn’t have those feelings for her.
Yet when Amy saw her husband coming up the drive, his arms full of his daughter and eyes brimming with affection, she decided to try. Amy Abel Mangevileyn was always willing to try.
In their bedroom, Amy sat before Erasmus, her knees having gone weak at his touch. She didn’t realize that it would put her nearly at the level of that part of him.
It was hard and erect, rising from the nest of dark hair he’d just washed. She reached out to stroke the shaft, and he caught her hand.
“You needn’t,” he rasped.
“But I want to.”
Erasmus brought her hand there, let her wrap her fingers around the hot, heavy member that made the place between her thighs ache with anticipation. He exhaled as if pained and put his hand atop hers.
“You’re such a good girl, Amy,” he said. “But if you do that, I’m going to embarrass myself.”
“You never need to be embarrassed with me,” she said.
“All the more reason to give you my very best showing,” he said, giving her a tender look. “Lie back on the bed.”
She scurried up onto the mattress and laid herself out for his pleasure. Amy took deep breaths, hoping he might notice how becomingly her curves had come in with all the wholesome dairy, fruits, and grains from the home farm.
His eyes were on her breasts, and she squirmed, pushing her thighs together as she thought of how it might feel to be touched there. Hands against the sheets, she waited for him to advance.
Erasmus held his shaft, not stroking, simply holding it and observing her naked body. She longed to cry out, wanted to beg for his touch.
And then he did it. He took that hand and ran the backs of his fingers over her hardened nipple.
Amy convulsed, then covered her mouth as she fought to contain the sound of her pleasure. It was the lightest of touches, yet the earth could swallow her up this very moment without her noticing because the sensation was so profound.
Her hips rocked on the bed, and her legs tangled together, then opened, desperately seeking something. Something of his.
Her husband finally joined her, crawled right over her needy body, flashed her a hungry smile, and dropped his full lips to her nipple. And then he sucked. His were a man’s demanding sucks,lascivious and lusty, and Amy had to bite the meat of her hand to contain the wails that might otherwise wake the baby.
