Pippa felt no shame in that, either. Not that George had ever given her cause to feel shame in their marriage bed. But neither had he ever been so carnally appreciative. Roland made her feel like a goddess, as if her desire were a precious gift. She writhed against his hand.
His fingers found the bundle of flesh that was so sensitive, she cried out when he played over it in teasing swirls. Lightly, with slow, delicious whorls that had her hips seeking more pressure. She ground herself down on him, impatient.
He chuckled. “There is the fire I remember.”
He worked her pearl harder, rubbing faster.
“Like this?” he asked wickedly.
He was asking her what she wanted, she realized dimly, through the haze of passion fogging her mind. George had never bothered. What Roland was doing to her now—the care and concern he showed for her own pleasure—was a revelation.
It had never been like this before. Not for her.
“Yes,” she hissed, close to the edge.
He was a master at following the cues of her body. When she wanted more, he gave it without her needing to ask. She had pleasured herself this way, and she knew what she preferred. But there was something about Roland performing the act for her which took her almost completely into a delirious state of bliss.
“That’s it, Sunshine. Come on me,” he urged.
This, too, was new. George had not spoken during the act. But she no longer wanted to think about him. Nor was it fair to make comparisons. She wanted to lie with Roland without the past haunting them. She wanted to be present in this moment, his wife, giving herself to him, because he had already given her so much. More than he should have done.
“Come for me,” he said again, switching now to use his thumb on the bud of her sex and sinking two fingers deep inside her.
The slide of him, a prelude to what would come next, was too much. She convulsed on him, the waves of her pleasure battering her. Crying out, she seized up, mouth an inch from his, as the intensity of her climax rocked through her.
He growled his approval, sliding in and out, finding a place that was so exquisite, she had not known it existed. She never wanted him to stop, and yet she also wanted more. Languor stole over her in the aftermath, but Roland was not finished with her yet.
“I want you so damn much,” he rasped.
She was not sure which of them moved first, but it hardly mattered because in the next moment, their lips were sealed once more. This kiss was even more furious and frenzied than those which had preceded it. She wished they were naked, because she wanted nothing but bare skin on bare skin, his heat burning into her.
They groaned in unison as his fingers slid free of her body, the wet sound erotic in the silence of the night. And still they kept kissing as he reached between them to undo the fall of his trousers. They kissed as he fumbled with his smalls. Kissed as he sprang free, thick and long and hard, against her folds. Kissed as he took himself in hand and guided the tip to her entrance, where she was still throbbing with the aftereffects of her release.
But how could this work? Did she not need to be the one on her back, with him atop? Questions rose even as she sucked on his tongue and aided him, giving him anything he wanted. His other hand returned to her waist, gripping her, angling her higher, placing her where he wished, and then tugging her down on him.
Oh.
Oh dear.
Oh dear God.
One swift rush, and he was inside her. She was stretched full. It should be no surprise that every part of him was large. And yet, she had not expected such a thorough claiming. Once more, he was reaching the part of her she had not known existed, and she wasalive, hot sparks shooting through her, the sensation unlike anything she had ever experienced. Although she had already reached her pinnacle, a new sense of urgency descended.
She was greedy. He bit her lower lip, not hard enough to hurt, but just enough for a fresh rush of wetness to overwhelm her. If she was thinking properly, she would be mortified at her own body’s readiness. Not just slick, but drenched. Her wetness was everywhere, on her thighs, on him, likely his trousers, and still dripping from her.
But she could not help herself. He felt too good inside her.
Sounds tore from her throat. Sounds she had never made before.
“Ride me,” he whispered into her mouth.
She did not know what he wanted, so she remained still, kissing the corner of his mouth. “I have never… I do not know how…”
“Let me show you, Sunshine.”
“Yes,” she said, kissing the other corner of his lips.
Both hands moved to her waist, and he guided her, raising her higher with slow motions, only to have her lower herself upon him. And it was exquisite. The glide of his thickness, plunging deep, then almost leaving her, only for her to take him back inside.
