“I did,” she protested, rubbing her cheek along his hair in the fashion of a cat. “I saw you slipping into the alcove when we entered, and perhaps it was wrong of me, but I did enjoy haranguing you while you listened.”
“Minx.” There was no heat in his voice. Nothing but the deep, mellifluous rasp of desire. His hands slid over her night rail, cupping her breasts through the thin fabric.
Her nipples were instantly hard.
“You like it when I am wicked,” she said, breathless as he kissed a path of fire to the junction of her neck and shoulder and lingered there, making her knees go weak.
His thumbs rubbed over the peaks of her breasts in slow, knowing swirls. “I do indeed.”
“I will admit that it was wrong of me to tease you so mercilessly.” Her head fell against his shoulder as he plucked at her nipples.
“It was,” he agreed. “And now that I know the truth at last, I am afraid you must do penance for your sins.”
“How?”
He released her and spun her to face him, a glint in his emerald gaze she recognized all too well. “Take off your night rail and get on the bed, and you shall see.”
Oh.Desire pooled between her thighs. She liked when Neville was growly and commanding in the bed chamber. It did strange things to her insides. She grasped two fistfuls of her gown and tossed it over her head, leaving it to pool on the Axminster somewhere behind her. His heated stare swept over her appreciatively as she wasted no time in obliging him by draping herself on his bed.
He shed his dressing gown and then joined her, his hands stroking up her calves and parting her legs. His grin was pure, molten sensuality as his golden head lowered and he rained kisses along her bare skin.
“I have a feeling I am going to like this penance,” she murmured, the pulsing in her sex turning into raw, achy need as his mouth traveled nearer to her center.
“So am I, love.” He blew a stream of hot air over her exposed flesh, teasing her further.
She wriggled, already desperate for him. They had been married two months, and each passing day only served to heighten their bond, both in the bedchamber and beyond.
“Please, Neville.”
“Tell me what you want.” He kissed each of her inner thighs.
“I want your mouth on me,” she said.
His caresses moved over her hips, and then his hand found hers, their fingers twining together. “With pleasure, darling.”
His tongue flicked over her pearl, and she nearly jolted from her skin. Charity could not contain her moan of approval. He lapped at her, knowing how to prolong her pleasure and take her to the edge. Just when she was certain she could not sustain more torture, he sucked.
Her body bowed from the bed, seeking more.
And he gave her more. With his other hand, he hooked her hips over his shoulders, angling her so that his face was buried between her thighs. He feasted on her as if she were the most decadent dessert, his tongue delving deep into her channel, then slicking along her seam to toy with her pearl.
Her climax was upon her in an instant. Pleasure rocked through her, bliss radiating from her wet core as his eager tongue dipped in and out, devouring her. Their fingers tightened and held as the ferocity of her orgasm ebbed.
He rose to claim her, bringing their bodies together. In one thrust, he was fully seated, filling her. The closeness was exquisite. She held him tight and found his lips, the taste of herself on his tongue. How she loved this man.
Together, they discovered their rhythm, bodies straining, seeking. His cock glided in and out, sinking deep. Their fingers remained laced as he made love to her, and when he left her lips to suck a nipple into his mouth, she reached her pinnacle, clamping on him hard as white-hot desire roared through her, stronger and even more intense than the crisis which had preceded it. On a growl, he pumped into her, and then the familiar wet warmth of his seed flooded her, prolonging the pleasure.
In the aftermath of their spent passion, they laid in each other’s arms, hearts still beating fast.
Charity broke the silence first, reminded, now that her mind was functioning properly once more, of the news she had to tell him. “Neville?”
“Yes, my love?”
“What game does a lady’s bustle resemble?”
“Hmm.” His hand stroked the sensitive skin of her inner arm. “Backgammon?”
“Yes.” She took a deep breath. “What do you call a man whose wife is with child?”
