She wished she’d been able to learn more about this. Remembering the way Corbyn had placed her hand on his arousal the other night on the balcony, Hannah wondered if she shouldn’t touch him as well. If it felt this good for her, it stood to reason that it might also feel good for him, didn’t it? She slid her hand down beside his and reached until she brushed the tip of his member, which sent a very gratifying shudder through Corbyn’s body. Yes, he certainly seemed to like that.
Hannah took him in her grip and explored the shape, marveling at the feel of him. Considering how hard it felt, his skin was quite soft. And he was wet too, beading with liquid at the tip that slicked the way for her hand. She hadn’t expected that.
“Please.” The plea that escaped Corbyn’s mouth was something entirely new. His voice had grown thick and heavy, as if he were a little drunk. What a thrill it was to think that she had done that to him!
“What should I do?” Hannah wanted to push him further, to give him what he obviously needed, but she felt clumsy and unsure of herself.
“Faster,” he urged. “Like this.” Corbyn wrapped his hand around hers and began to stroke together, guiding her to a brisk pace. His breath picked up speed as well, coming in halting gasps as she moved. He seemed to be very excited now.
Once Hannah had got the hang of it, he released her hand and returned to pleasuring her, but this time his movements had lost some of their careful precision. He seemed scarcely able to control himself as he slid his fingers back into her, driving an aching pressure against the source of her desire. Hannah didn’t mind the change. Anything Corbyn had lost in caution was more than made up for in his eagerness. There was something unbearably arousingin knowing that he was just as lost in his pleasure as she was. That she had the proof of his desire gripped in her palm, entirely at her disposal. Hannah understood then that he was very close, and that he was trying his utmost to bring her with him.
He was succeeding.
Hannah lost track of herself as her climax overtook her. She heard a cry and recognized her own voice, though she hadn’t intended to make it. A moment later, Corbyn’s answering gasp and a liquid heat on her belly told her that she’d succeeded too. He collapsed beside her, and for several minutes neither of them did anything but catch their breath. Hannah didn’t think she had the power to move yet. She was still trying to wrap her mind around what had just happened. It was very different from her own explorations.
Corbyn was the first to rise, and he fetched a cloth to clean themselves with. When he’d finished, he bent to kiss her again, moving with such deliberate care that Hannah marveled at his self-possession. She still felt as if she were underwater, her limbs too warm and heavy to obey her commands at a normal speed. She opened to him, letting Corbyn explore her mouth for as long as he desired. He was really very good at this, though she supposed she didn’t have any basis for comparison. But surely men couldn’t all kiss this way, or no one would do anything else! No, he must have a talent for it. She was persuaded.
Corbyn inched his kiss down her neck, finally bringing his face to her breast and teasing her nipple with his tongue.
“What are you doing?” Hannah shivered as an echo of her climax crept through her body. “I thought you’d finished.”
“But you haven’t.”
“Yes, I have,” she protested weakly. It was very hard to think clearly when he kept doing that.
“No,” he insisted. “You’ve only just started.” The promise inCorbyn’s voice nearly undid her. He increased the pace of his attentions until Hannah squirmed beneath him, her whole body growing hot. Though she’d been thoroughly satisfied only a few minutes before, Corbyn was coaxing her back to restlessness.
He trailed his mouth down her body, kissing his way over her until he settled between her legs, where he drew back to look at her sex.
It was all Hannah could do to watch as her husband bowed his head and kissed her there, without a trace of shame.
She wanted to ask what he could mean by such a thing, but she found that her throat was paralyzed. The only sound that escaped her was a desperate whimper. It felt even better than what he’d done with his fingers. Her self-control was drowning in a warm, rocking current, powerless to fight the sensations Corbyn had summoned from her. Before Hannah knew what she was doing, she arched her hips toward the pressure of his tongue, moaning as he licked and teased her toward the edge once more.
How was he so good at this?
“Please,” she pleaded. “There.”
He made a little sound of satisfaction in response, his lips humming against her. Hannah was growing quite desperate now. She reached her hand down to grasp Corbyn’s shoulder. She felt increasingly untethered, as if she might drift away without him. Corbyn might have sensed it too, for he gripped her hips as he pressed deeper, steadying her against the onslaught on her senses.
Hannah cried out. Her pleasure was different this time—a deeper release that left her feeling raw and shaken. It was all she could do to remember her own name afterward. Everything else had been washed away.
She’d been so overpowered that she didn’t notice Corbyn move until he was already beside her. He nudged Hannah gently onto herside (she was so limp with exhaustion that she was as easily manipulated as a rag doll), and tucked himself into the space behind her back, surrounding her with his body.
“Sleep for a while,” he whispered into her temple. “You must be tired.”
Hannah wanted to thank him, but she couldn’t even summon the words before she drifted away, her thoughts fragmenting into disjointed snippets.
Twenty
Silas awoke before Hannah the next morning. In the first minutes before he’d fully shaken off his dreams, he’d been surprised to find another person in bed with him, pressed neatly against his side. Then he remembered.
It was real. She was his wife now.
Should I bring her breakfast? Don’t wealthy ladies usually take their breakfast in bed?He’d taken a light meal yesterday evening after their lovemaking, but Hannah had slept soundly through the rest of the night. She would be hungry when she awoke.
Silas crept out from the covers and dressed himself as quietly as he could manage, turning to check that Hannah still slept before he left the room. She looked peaceful.
Once Silas reached the kitchen and began fumbling for the kettle, James lumbered up from the pile of blankets he’d set out for himself in the next room.
