Sin reached for her. He trailed his fingers over the skin of her ribs, down over her wide hips. He pressed them harder into the soft flesh of her thighs. Pink lines followed after the tips of his fingers, fleeting marks that disappeared all too quickly for Sin’s liking.
He crawled over her, his knees bracketing her hips, his palms framing her face, and he examined what lay beneath him.
Beautiful. His woman was beautiful). And completely his. Until they died, only her body would accept his flesh; only his cock would know her body.
He rubbed his thumb over her nipple. Her areolas were a pretty pink, almost indistinguishable from the surrounding skin, a delicate contrast for such a sturdy woman. Her nipple pebbled beneath his finger, and her breathing quickened. Sin lowered his head, needing to taste her. He sucked the nub into his mouth before nibbling around the soft underside of her breast.
Her skin was like velvet, her softness such a contrast to his own hardness. He kissed his way up to the pulse fluttering in her neck. “Open your legs for me.”
She complied, but all of her muscles went rigid with the task.
“Relax.” He flicked his tongue against her fluttering pulse, loving the feel of her blood racing just beneath his tongue. “The painful bit is past.”
And thank God for that. No need to ease his entry, hold himself back. He straightened his legs and pressed his erection into her belly, throbbing at the contact. Shifting his hips, he slid his cock between her folds, not trying to enter her, just letting her soft lips envelop him as he rocked against her.
Winnifred’s chest froze.
“Does that feel good?” He rolled his hips again, gathering moisture easing his glide.
She clenched her jaw. “It’s fine.”
“Fine.” The word tasted foul on his tongue. Her honey slicking his way showed his was a liar. But she couldn’t control her body’s response. He ground the base of his cock into her clit, and she smothered a moan. As long as her body didn’t lie, he could forgive her words. For now.
He buried his hand under her scalp, pulling at the knot in her hair. “I’ll see if I can improve upon fine.”
He took her mouth as his hips set up a steady rhythm. He devoured her, hoping for a response with each thrust of his tongue, each nip of his teeth. Her skin grew damp beneath his, and she gripped his hip with one hand. To encourage him on or to try to control her reactions, Sin didn’t know. It didn’t matter. She might be afraid of her responses, but he craved them.
“Do you want me?” He drew back, the head of his cock prodding her dripping entrance, before sliding back over her lips to nudge her clit.
Small tremors coursed her body. “Whatever you want, Husband.”
He gripped her chin, forced her to look at him. “Do you want my cock in your sweet little pussy?” His crown dipped the slightest bit inside her sheath, begging for full admittance. But he’d been a liar, too. He wanted her words, her confession of her own desire, as much as he needed her body’s response.
She shuddered beneath him, no doubt unused to such uncivilized language in her practical little world. She’d learn. In his bed, there was no polish. No sophistication. In his bed, there was only raw animal lust.
“Yes,” she said, her voice breaking.
His body expanded, his muscles swelling. He hid his triumphant grin by kissing her breathless. His wife wanted him, and by God she would have him.
He tugged her thigh wider and slammed into heaven.
***
Her breath fled from her lungs. Winnifred threw her head back in shock. Had he said there’d be no pain? He’d been wrong.
He thrust again, going deeper, and she couldn’t contain the whimper that slipped past her lips.
Sinclair slapped his palms next to her head and raised his upper body. His eyelids were at half-mast, his mouth loose as he held himself pressed tight to her. “Fuck me. You feel better than I dreamed.”
She exhaled a long breath, forcing her body to relax and accept the intrusion. The stretch of her body, the fullness, was as alien as his foul language. And as curious. It was inappropriate, speaking such in front of a woman. Taboo. A shiver trickled down her spine. Only a man could survive such a breach in propriety. Such freedom they had.
Sinclair gripped her skull, dropping his forehead to hers, as he eased back and thrust back in.
The pain was less this time, and the next foray brought a not unpleasant sensation to her core. Her legs widened on their own accord.
“That’s it, mo ghrâdh. Take all of me.” Sinclair dragged his palm down her side and grabbed her bottom, digging his nails into her flesh. The bite of pain had her arching into his next slide. Skin slapped against skin, the sound obscene … and thrilling.
She’d never engaged in such a lewd act. Even married, it felt wicked. Ungoverned. And it was mandated by her position as his wife. As long as she didn’t get too carried away. Didn’t become too excitable, she could let herself enjoy this. A little.
