And she would ache more before this night was through. But her impassioned pleas spurred him on. He buried his face between her curved thighs once more, gently nipping at her swollen bud, then suckling it and using his teeth to abrade it in slow, steady palpitations.
He knew the moment he found the most responsive part of her, for she stiffened, her body bowing into his, and came on a low, keening cry. He absorbed each spasm rippling through her with his tongue, savoring this moment, the silken warmth of her quim, the sheer decadence of her surrender.
When the last lashing of pleasure had seemed to ripple through her, he withdrew, kissing her inner thighs as he went. His cock had never been this rigid, his ballocks never drawn so tight with the need for release. Hastily, he flipped her gown back into place and then stood, offering her his hand.
He was almost beyond speech, past all capability of rational, coherent thought. If he was not inside her within the next few minutes, he swore he would explode. Wordlessly, he led her by their linked hands to the bed.
She tugged at the sash holding his dressing gown in place with her free hand. But her fingers fumbled on the knot. Her lovely face was a study in concentration.
“I can do it,” he offered as she only seemed to tighten the sash rather than loosen it.
“I want to,” she said softly, almost shyly. “Touching you pleases me.”
He held himself still, heart pounding, as she used both hands to open the sash and then slide the dressing gown from his shoulders. The robe fell to the floor in a puddle around his feet. As they had the previous evening, Helena’s hands roamed over him, leaving fire in their wake.
Her lashes fluttered low, shielding her gaze, as her hands traveled with tentative lightness over his shoulders first. Then with growing boldness as she traced over his chest, down his abdomen. This time, when she neared his aching cock, he did not stay her. He wanted her hand wrapped around him more than he wanted his next breath.
She hesitated, one hand trailing around to his back while the other hovered, her fingertips kissing the skin just above his straining prick.
“Touch me wherever and however you like,” he told her roughly, hoping she would be as daring as he wanted her to be.
She did not let him down.
Nothing, however, could have prepared him for the light grasp of her elegant fingers on his length. She brushed over him, stroking him, her thumb circling the tip where a bead of his mettle already leaked.
“I want to pleasure you as you did me,” she said, shocking him.
Just the notion of her sealing her sweet lips around him, of being engulfed by the welcoming warmth of her mouth, was enough to make him almost lose control. He could not take much more.
A groan escaped.
She stilled, glancing up at him as she caught her lower lip in her teeth. “Does it not please you?”
“It pleases me,” he growled. “It pleases me too much, and I mean to be inside you, hellion.”
“What if I were to use my mouth on you?” she asked softly, giving him another stroke. “Or my tongue? Would it feel as wonderful?”
She nearly unmanned him.
Wonderfuldid not begin to describe the prospect. This woman was bound to be the death of him. But what a sweet death it would be. Still, he was not about to spend in his wife’s hand on their second night of lovemaking.
He bit back another groan. “That shall have to be an investigation for another evening. Tonight, I want you naked and beneath me.”
“But Gabe,” she protested with a pout that made him want her that much more.
He silenced her with a lingering kiss. That turned into another, and then another. Until at last he tore his lips from hers.
“Now you,” he told her, helping her to remove her night rail.
Together, they lifted the gossamer fabric over her head. And this time, it was his turn to trail his hands over every part of her he could touch. He cupped her breasts and dipped his head to take one of her nipples in his mouth.
“Gabe.” His name was a soft, hungry sigh on her lips.
No more waiting. He had to have her. Now.
He kissed her again hungrily, and then he led her to the bed before joining her in it. Her arms opened, her legs parting to accommodate him. He could not help but to feel, as their bodies aligned, that he was coming home. That here with Helena, her as his countess, was what had always been fated.
Like it or not.
