The painful memories of the workhouse faded all the more as Erasmus painted over them with something tender. She brushed away a tear, her happy feelings hard to contain.
“You did just that when I showed you my staff,” he said wryly before kissing the corner of her eye where another tear had escaped. “You were fearful that it wouldn’t fit.”
Amy giggled. He was being too much!
“But I reassured you I’d prepare the way,” he said, his gaze smoldering. “I promised to get you so wet you could take all of me.”
Her next exhale resembled a shudder. Her stomach seemed to flip, and she didn’t doubt that he’d find her very able to smother every inch of him.
“You were so sweet, Amy. You asked me to show you how I’d fit inside.”
Her eyes widened; this sounded nothing like something she’d say!
“I know!” he cried. “It was far bolder than I expected of you. But I like it when you’re bold and demanding, wife. It makes me hard as hell.”
He grasped his shaft, pumping it while he looked down at her displayed body.
“Amy, you’re beautiful,” he grunted.
“Are you sure you can’t…” she asked, her eyes on the head of his staff. Such a thing had never been tempting before, but she now wanted him inside, buried deep in her channel.
“That night, you asked me a very different question: if we could make a baby without me inserting myself. How times change,” he said. “But that night I reassured you by sliding a finger where my cock would go.”
Erasmus showed her his thick digit, then moved his hand between her spread thighs and slid just the tip into her hole.
She was so hot, so wet and overcome that a mere inch had her crying into her hand and contracting around him.
To his credit, Erasmus didn’t prolong her agony, simply worked his finger in and out until her stomach clenched and she rocked into a shaking paroxysm that left her mind blank and body sensitive.
“You’ve a sloppy little puss, Mrs. Mangevileyn,” he muttered, moving slower as she returned to awareness. “A good girl with a wet little cunny. No wonder I got a baby on you so fast.”
Her muscles contracted again as another wave of pleasure crashed unexpectedly. She felt wrung out, like the wash she’d done at the workhouse.
“Now, lie back and let me enjoy this fine, messy cunny,” he bit out, stroking the hand slick with her juices onto his manhood.
Amy thought he’d revise his earlier sentiments about not inserting himself — not that she’d mind. She had all the thoughts of one of Thea’s dolls. But he simply worked his staff with his hand and then lowered his hips until they hovered over hers.
“Ready?” he asked, somewhat winded.
“Yes.”
He dipped further and let the head of his part rest between her blooming lips, allowed the shaft to be cradled by her body butstill well outside her channel. He slid forward slowly, following the slit, and pushed it through her wetness.
And then his head slid over some part of her that had her hips rocking, and muscles shaking.
“Your little nub is so sensitive,” he said, a coy smile on his face as he directed the ledge of that head over it again.
Nothing could be as wonderful. How was this happeningagain, so soon after pleasure had flattened her? Her tiny cries turned to groans that she had to muffle in the pillow from the other side of the bed, her teeth biting into the fine pillowcase as her gentlemanly, intelligent husband played her body like a virtuoso.
“This is just how you felt the night we made our baby,” he said, using his hand to keep his shaft running between her over-sensitive lips. “We wailed in each other’s arms all night long, and I gave you enough seed for a lifetime. Filled your pretty cunny until we were bound to have a child.”
Amy was so wet she wondered if Erasmus had somehow entered and filled her despite knowing he hadn’t.
“I didn’t know,” she sighed, surrendering all control of her body to her husband’s expert care.
“What’s that, sweetheart?” he asked, cradling a breast that had ached from the rocking motion.
“I didn’t know that it could feel like this. That making—”
