Then, quite abruptly, his touch ceased.
Amelia opened her eyes, resisting the urge to pout in disappointment. Stephen stared down at her, his eyes half-lidded with desire, his lips wet and parted.
“How would you feel,” he whispered, “about having our wedding night a little earlier?”
She licked her lips, conscious of a rush of warmth traveling up her torso. “I think that I would like that very much,” she managed, her voice betraying her just a little.
A slow smile spread across Stephen’s face, his lips curling back to reveal sharp, wolfish teeth. “Well then, I would hate to disappoint.”
“Disappoint? You never could.”
She was rewarded with a kiss.
He shifted, putting more of his weight on her this time. Not enough to crush her, but certainly enough that she could feel his presence. He kissed her once more, his fingertips skimming up and down her sides. His hands danced down to her thighs, sliding against her wet heat with a slow and lazy rhythm as if they had all the time in the world.
Well, perhaps they had.
After a moment, when Amelia was thoroughly hazy and aching with desire, he sat back on his heels and dropped his hands to the placket of his breeches, teasing the button there.
“If you want me to stop, or slow down, or do anything at all, you had better tell me,” he said, his voice catching on the last words. “If you change your mind…”
“I won’t,” she breathed. “I… I want you, I think.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “You think?”
“No, I am sure of it. I am entirely sure.”
He nodded and undid the last button.
Amelia had seen the male member depicted in various old anatomy books, mostly the ones she was not supposed to read. Seeing it in person was a little different.
There was not much time to consider this, however, because Stephen leaned forward, kissing her once more. His hands shifted, reaching down to touch between them again, finding that spot that made her tense like a drawn bowstring.
When he pushed into her, it took her a moment or two to adjust to the new sensation, not entirely dissimilar to the feel of his fingers inside her, but very clearlymore intense.
She let out a short breath, shifting her hips, and he began to move, incrementally at first.
Something sparked inside her, something deeply buried, and she let out a ragged breath, closing her eyes.
“Don’t do that,” he whispered, his fingers curling around her chin. “Don’t close your eyes.”
She obeyed, her eyes fluttering open.
The pressure inside her built, rising with his movements. The spark of pleasure steadily grew into a flame, a hungry fire in the pit of her stomach that climbed the column of her spine.
Stephen’s thrusts quickened, and she could hear the rasp of his breath. She could see the pleasure tightening his face, and that thrilled her more than words could say. He bent down once more, pressing a rough kiss to her lips. It tasted of desperation.
Climax crashed over her, spreading from her core to the extremities of her limbs, and lingered there for what felt like an eternity.
Stephen grinned, dizzy with his own desire, pressing his lips against the side of her neck. She felt the pinprick of his teeth against her skin just as his movements stuttered, becoming irregular. He stilled against her, and when the blood in her ears cooled, she could hear their mingled breathing.
At last, Stephen pulled back, just a few inches. He searched her face, his eyebrows drawn together. “Amelia?”
She gave a wobbly, giddy smile. “I am fine, Stephen. In fact, I ambetterthan fine.”
He gave a bark of laughter. “Of course you are.”
She tugged at his shoulders, and he needed no further encouragement to lean down and kiss her again, a lazy, almost untidy kiss.
