“I haven’t seen that.” I laughed. “We’re both naked and we’re talking about photographs.”
She ran her hands under her breasts and then lazily drew her fingers to her nipples—already peaked in the slightly chilled air of the bedroom.
We’d left the windows open, and the ceiling fan circulated the cool night air.
She pulled her lower lip through her teeth. “Sexy enough for you?”
“I will always love you.”
For just a moment, she held herself still. Then she smiled. “Same goes. Now, please come to bed.”
“Sure.” I tried for nonchalant as I sauntered over and then crawled onto the mattress. I lowered myself over her—easing my leg between her welcoming thighs.
She grinned.
We kissed.
Lazily.
Brazenly.
Then hungrily.
Slow to start was always possible. As was picking up the pace if either—or both—felt the urge.
She rubbed sinuously beneath me.
I smiled against her lips. “Eager?”
“We’re married.”
“I’m not certain married sex—”
“It will be.” Her eyes sparkled in the low light of the bedside lamp. “Because I know you’re really mine.”
“Tad possessive?”
“Maybe.” She pouted. Then grinned. “I’m just glad no one saw how special you are and I get you all to myself.”
She’d said these words before—or ones very similar.
They always warmed my heart.
I kissed my way down her neck.
She rubbed against me.
I took her pert nipple in my mouth.
She grasped my hair to hold my head in place as I continued my ministrations. Her extremely sensitive nipples were always fun to play with. Several times I’d made her come just with my lips, tongue, and teeth.
“No.” She groaned the word. “I want to come with you—”
I nipped.
She sighed.
I resumed my efforts to bring her as much pleasure as possible. That included moving farther down still, dipping my tongue in her navel, and continuing along to the apex of her thighs.
