Because she was his. His to pleasure and enjoy in any way he wished.
His to honor, protect, and cherish.
Curling his hand in her hair, he pulled gently. Her head tilted back with the loveliest gasp, and he swallowed it, thrust his tongue deep inside her mouth. She was delicious.
Sweet and savory. Womanly, wet, and warm. His Gabby.
He took his leisurely fill of his wife’s mouth before being lured away by her other charms. Lucky bastard that he was, he had plenty to choose from. Plump earlobes just begging to be suckled, the soft, soft curve of her neck. He rested his lips against the flutter of her throat, absorbing her fragility, his desire fed by the savage thought that if anyone tried to take her away from him, he would tear them from limb to limb.
Impatient with the barriers between them, he untied her wrapper, pushing it off her shoulders. The nightgown beneath was thin, teasing him with the hint of her bountiful curves. Unfortunately, the line of tiny mother-of-pearl buttons stretching from her throat to her toes was as long as the bloody Great Wall of China.
“How much do you like this nightgown?” he asked.
Her brow pleated. “It’s quite comfortable. Why?”
He let the sound of ripping cloth serve as his reply.
“Adam.” Her eyes rounded with shock. “That was expensive and—”
“I’ll buy you another. On second thought, no I won’t.” His voice thickened, his gaze drawn to her breasts—by God, they were perfection—then to her shapely limbs and pretty pussy. “I don’t want anything to stand between me and your beautiful self.”
Before she could say anything, he lifted her onto the bed, laying her across it horizontally so that her legs dangled off the edge. Standing between her spread thighs, surveying the feast, he knew what he wanted to sample first.
A moan broke from her as he ran his tongue through the deep crevice between her breasts. He savored the way her rounded mounds overflowed his palms, squeezing them as he buried his face in her fragrant flesh. He avoided her nipples, teasing her with leisurely licks and soft nips, gauging what pleased her. She began squirming, her hands clutching at his shoulders.
“Adam,please,” she said, her voice breathless and sweet.
He traced the rosy perimeter of her areola with the tip of his tongue, watching as her nipple swelled to new heights.
“Ask for what you want, love. Better yet, show me.” Catching her right hand, he kissed the fingertips. “Touch yourself where you want my mouth.”
Her fingers trembled, and he wondered if she was too shy to obey. Then, after a heartbeat, her hand left his and moved to her right breast. The sight of her ladylike fingers feathering over her straining red nipple was the stuff of male fantasies.
“With pleasure,” he said huskily.
Lowering his head, he laved his tongue over her taut bud. She whimpered as he flicked the sensitive nub, wetting it thoroughly, then blowing softly. He alternated that with deep sucking, drawing her into the heat of his mouth. He went back and forth between her luscious mounds, and her moans escalated, making him wonder if he could make her come just by licking her tits.
He touched her pussy, and lust bolted through him.Devil and damn, she was wet. Dripping with honey. He searched out her pearl, frigging her with firm strokes…and that was all it took to send her over the edge. She cried out, her thighs clamping around his hand as she climaxed.
He kissed the plump underside of her breast, the smooth valley of her belly, enjoying her aftershocks of pleasure. When her thighs slackened, he withdrew his hand. Holding her passion-dazed eyes, he licked his fingers, the taste of her making his cock weep.
“Delicious,” he murmured. “But everyone knows nectar is sweetest from the source.”
He placed his hands on her legs, spreading them wider to expose her glistening pink slit, prettily framed by her fiery nest. His hunger broke its tether, lunging for what it craved. His nostrils flaring, he bent his head.
“Adam, oh my goodness…mercifulheavens…”
Gabby didn’t know what she was saying, words leaving her like a chant. She was simultaneously floating and drowning in bliss as her husband put his mouth to scandalous use. The only other time he’d kissed her there he’d been drunk, and she’d always wondered if the spirits had caused his behavior. If the brandy had been responsible for his one-time enjoyment of this lewd act.
Given that he hadn’t remembered that night, she hadn’t had the courage to bring up the topic. For months, she realized, vague worries had floated in and out of her consciousness.
What had prompted the introduction of this outrageous act to his repertoire? Where had he learned it? (A question that had been promptly relegated to theBin of Blissful Ignorance). Was it…normal, what he was doing? Why had he done it only once? Had he not enjoyed it? Was it wrong and immoral ofherto enjoy such depravity?
Right now, he was answering some of those questions.
Because he wasn’t drunk, had only had a glass of wine. And he showed every sign of enjoying what he was doing to her.
“I love eating your pussy,” he said thickly. “In fact, it’s destined to become my favorite meal of the day.”
