Something broke inside her. She moaned his name as torrents of pleasure set her free, carrying her over the edge.
“Yes, Primrose,” he groaned. “I can feel you coming.”
Tremors of bliss shook her, yet he didn’t stop. He continued to drive into her, his burning gaze her only anchor in the maelstrom. She absorbed the potent pummeling of his hips, the focused momentum of his thrusts, wanting to give him the same rapture he’d given her. Suddenly, he pushed her knees back, opening her further to his commanding incursions, and, incredibly, her spent nerves rekindled.
“So bloody beautiful,” he growled. “This time, you’re coming with me.”
“But I just…” She gasped as his heavy stones slapped her sex, setting off new quakes.
“You can do it again.” He leaned over and captured her right nipple between his lips. The hot, hard suckling caused her lower muscles to tighten, and he groaned, “Yes, squeeze me just like that. Stroke my cock with your sweet pussy until we both go over.”
Molten pleasure rushed through her. She was so close… almost there…
He reached between their heaving bodies, strumming her pearl as his cock drilled into her.
“Oh, Andrew—it’shappening.” Sensations overflowed, and, with a cry, she came again.
“Goddamn, itis.” His head snapped back, the cords of his neck standing out in stark relief. He roared as he slammed into her again and again and again.
Finally he stilled, buried deep inside her. The rich satisfaction in his gaze curled her toes.
“Well, love?” he said huskily. “Have I scandalized you sufficiently?”
“No.” She dimpled at him. “You’re welcome to try even harder the next time.”
Her reward was his laughter filling the room.
~~~
After Andrew disposed of the French letter and cleaned Primrose with a moist cloth, he returned to the bed. He doused the lamps and tucked her soft backside against his front. For the first time, he prepared to fall asleep with a partner after sex.
He’d made it a policy never to sleep with customers. If women wanted to fall asleep in his arms and paid to do so, he’d wait until they dozed off before leaving. With lovers, he either left after the act, or they did. He’d never even slept with Kitty: both of them had understood the limits of their intimacy.
For sleeping together was an intimate act. More intimate, in some ways, than sex itself. To be in that unguarded state with a woman, to hold her through dreams and nightmares, to wake tangled up in one another—it wasn’t something he’d wanted to do… until now.
He cuddled Primrose closer. He felt mellow and satiated, his eyelids heavy.
“How does the French letter prevent conception?” Primrose chirped.
He blinked away the beginnings of sleep. Then his lips curled. Her innocence and natural wantonness were a unique blend, to be sure, adding to her subtly off-kilter charm.
“It catches my seed. Prevents it from reaching your womb where it might take root and grow into a babe,” he explained.
“Oh.”
He could almost see the cogs turning in her head as she took this in. An image sprang into his own mind: of Primrose, her belly ripe with his child. The notion of siring a babe had never appealed to him before. For one, he wasn’t certain what kind of father he’d make, having not known his own, and for another, he wouldn’t get a woman with child unless she was his wife. And he’d never met a woman he’d wanted to marry.
Until Primrose. He shoved aside the thought, which was neither here nor there. Regardless of what he wanted, he knew marriage was not an option; she’d been perfectly clear on that, and he’d understood and accepted her terms.
Then why did the image of her, glowing and round with his babe, stir some unholy desire in him? Why did it make him want to mount her again, this time without the damned letter, and plow her until she was full of his seed? Until she was dripping with his essence…
“And the time before… when you, um, reached completion…externally, so to speak, was that also to prevent getting me with child?”
Despite his growing desire, he had to grin at her delicate wording. “Yes. Although,” he said in the spirit of honesty, “it was also arousing to see my seed on your skin.”
“Oh.” This time the word had a breathy edge. “Is that a normal way of proceedings?”
“Perhaps not normal but also not unusual,” he said judiciously. “When it comes to sex, there are many variations, and I’m of the mind that as long as the parties are agreeable and no one is harmed, there is no right or wrong.” He stroked her shoulder, savoring its smoothness. “I meant what I said before: there are no rules in our bed except those we make. I want you to be free to explore your desires with me, Primrose. Tonight’s experiment didn’t turn out so badly, did it?”
