He never wanted to stop kissing her.
Thankfully, she was every bit as greedy for him, her nails scraping down his back as she held him to her, lips responding, the throaty noises of her erotic enjoyment echoing in the silence of the chamber and making his cock harder still. He was already settled between her legs, his cock pulsing against her lush, wet heat. A slight change in their positioning, and he would be inside her.
But he had to remind himself, as he always did when it came to Izzy, that he must pace himself. This was the first time he was making love to his wife in the comfort of a bed. While the other occasions had been equally as passionate, there had been a heightened sense of urgency. Now, there was no need to rush or fear being caught. They had all the time they wished to enjoy each other.
And he meant to enjoy.
He meant to make this a day neither of them would forget.
She writhed against him, hips pumping as she sought more and their tongues slid sinuously together. He shifted so that his cock pressed against her hip instead, a much safer place, with far less temptation to slide to completion before the rest of him was ready to be done.
The kiss grew deeper, wetter, more carnal. He palmed her breast, finding the taut nipple with his thumb and rubbing slow circles over it, drawing it into a tighter peak as she arched into his touch. His lips never leaving hers, he caressed down her silken stomach, over the feminine curve, absorbing her warmth, until he reached her slit.
His fingers dipped inside. She was impossibly wet and hot. Sleek and dripping and ready for him. He groaned as he found the plump bud of her clitoris and swirled over it. Her hips jerked, and she cried out, coming apart with an ease that suggested she had been as fraught with longing for him as he had been for her. He worked her harder, flattening his palm over the swell of her sex to heighten her pleasure. He swallowed her whimpered cries with his mouth, his own desire rising to dizzying heights.
Yes.
This was what he wanted, what he craved. Her body beneath his, her soft curves cradling him in all the right places, coming apart from the pleasure he gave her. But because he was gluttonous where she was concerned, he wanted all this and more. One orgasm was not enough. He had to have her on his tongue.
When the last lingering shudders of her spend were done, he dragged his mouth from hers, stringing a trail of kisses from her jaw, down her throat, over her breasts and belly, all the way to her clitoris. Smoothing his palms over her soft inner thighs, he sucked, then flicked his tongue over her in light, quick licks.
“You taste so damn good,” he murmured, loving the musky richness of her on his tongue, the heady scent of her desire surrounding him. “Better than honey.”
Her only response was to spread her legs wider, as she flattened her feet on the mattress and arched into his face. He caressed her hips and licked down her seam before burying his tongue in her cunny.
She moaned, and thus encouraged, he fucked her with his tongue. He was drunk on her, the taste of her, the wildness of her need as she writhed and rocked beneath him. Her slick cunny fed into his own lust, driving his desire until he was a man untamed, spurred by a longing to make her come as many times as possible before this day was over.
He lifted his head, mesmerized for a moment by the glorious sight of her, pink and wet and open for him, like the blossom of a flower. “You have a beautiful cunny. I love seeing you like this, wet and ready for me.”
As if moved by his vulgar words, she thrust her hips from the bed, wordlessly begging for more.
The urge to hear her admit it was strong.
He lowered his head and blew a stream of hot air over her swollen pearl. “Tell me what you want from me,cariad. Tell me what you want me to do to this pretty cunny of yours.”
“Please,” was all she said, voice raw with desire.
But that was not what he wanted, what he needed. He wanted sinful words on her demure lips. He wanted her to say vulgar, bawdy things.
Her hips rocked again, straining toward him. Tenderly, he pressed a chaste kiss to her clitoris. “I want to hear you say it. Shall I suck your pearl? Do you want me to fuck you with my fingers while I lick you?” He kissed her again, glorying in the trembling of her beneath him. “Tell me, and I’ll give you want you need.”
“Yes,” she hissed, cupping her breasts and rolling her nipples between her thumbs and her forefingers, arching her back. “Do it. Do everything.”
God, the sight of her, those full, creamy breasts on display, those pink, hard nipples begging for more. Her delicate hands on her as she pleasured herself. And that gave him an idea.
“Touch yourself,” he told her. “Feel how hot and wet you are.”
When she hesitated, he took her hand and gently guided it down her body. Together, they stroked over her pearl, using her fingers.
“Oh,” she said, eyes going wide.
When she would have withdrawn, he held her there, giving them both a lesson in pleasure and restraint.
“Lower,” he said, and then he guided her finger to her entrance, pressing until her forefinger disappeared inside her.
Fuck.He had to bite his lip hard to keep the raging need to take her at bay. How was it possible that he was more desperate to take her than he had been the last time? That having her only made him want her and need her that much more? Love was a strange beast.
“How does that feel?” he asked, knowing what she was feeling now, the molten heat of her, the slickness of her juices, the grip of her inner muscles.
