Edward’s eyes widened and his pupils dilated as his gaze traveled the length of her. He pressed his lips together. “You’re beautiful. More so than I ever imagined, and I’ve been imagining for a long time.”
It had been a long time. She didn’t like the reminder of it, so she kissed him before her thoughts could venture in that direction. He groaned and picked her up, her breeches falling to her ankles. She kicked them off as he lay her upon the bed. She reached down to the blanket resting at her feet and pulled it up to cover her nakedness.
His lips quirked but he didn’t comment. Instead, he went to work unfastening his own breeches. From this angle, he looked all brawn and sinew. He pushed his breeches down his legs and over his knees. Her eyes grazed over his strong, muscular thighs to his cock, large and erect and pulsing.
“Good God.” She snapped her mouth shut, which had embarrassingly dropped open, and took a deep breath in. It was—odd. He would be loath to hear her say it and it was likely not the most appropriate thing to think in this moment. But this thing in front of her…It was thick and muscular, appearing from a wealth of wiry, curly hair. A large vein meandered down its shaft and at its head, the shaft swelled. Right at its tip, a gap from which dripped a single bead of liquid.
Tentatively, she reached out to touch it. His cock recoiled as he groaned. She tried again, this time grasping the full circumference of it. When she looked up, Edward’s head was tilted back, his eyes were closed, and his lips pressed together. She ran her hand down the length of him, and he clutched her wrist, focusing his eyes on her.
“Not just yet,” he said through gritted teeth. He pulled the blanket back and climbed into bed with her, thankfully repositioning the fabric to keep her covered. His cock pressed hard against her thigh; instinct—common sense—made her spread her legs, prepared for him to mount her. She nodded, resolved. “I’m ready.”
He chuckled. An all-knowing, infuriating chuckle that doused her flames with frigid water. “Do not laugh at me,” she warned.
Immediately, the chuckles stopped, and his expression became more serious. “I apologize. I simply—” He paused. “Let me show you what ready feels like.”
He caressed her inner thigh, and her desire quickly leapt back to life. His fingers found their way to her curls and he gently explored them until his fingers reached her crevice. He slid one finger in, stroking her gently. The strokes became smoother as she became slick beneath him, and his finger found the nub at the center of her. The one she used to find her own personal satisfaction. He stroked it, over and over, and small waves of pleasure rocked over her.
But she couldn’t relax. He was rightthere, his deep blue eyes focused on hers. She could feel the pleasure on the peripheries, but his face so close to hers, watching her with such expectation—she couldn’t relax. So the pleasure remained where it was—hinting and teasing at her but ultimately out of reach.
“Close your eyes,” he whispered, and she did so.
Without the pressure of his expectation, the pleasure blossomed in her body and mind. Over and over he stroked. With each caress her consciousness drifted farther away, her breathing becoming heavier. Just as she felt ready to cry out, he stopped.
She panted, gulping in air as she opened her eyes, and the present rushed back at her. His expression was dazed as though her pleasure had muddled his mind. He’d gone tense, every muscle at attention.
She raised a hand to his face, stroking her thumb across his cheek. “Please,” she whispered, half of a mind to push his hand out of the way and finish on her own.
The befuddled look on his face sharpened into a grin. He leaned down, pressing his lips to hers. As he did so, his attention didn’t return to where she so desperately wanted it. Instead, he circled her opening with his finger.
He wasn’t going to…Surely…
Slowly, he entered her.
Her breath caught, her mind reeling at the unexpected touch. The peculiarity of it. It was notbad, per se. In fact, it felt quite good. Muscles she’d never known existed clenched tight around him. It was simplyunusual.
She opened her eyes; the rapture had slipped. Edward was looking down at her in reverence. That’s when she realized the blanket had shifted under her writhing. A flush of embarrassment crept up her, turning her pale skin pink. He noticed—clearly, how could he not notice with his eyes fixed on the naked skin that was flushing—and his gaze returned to her face. His eyes captured hers, but she could not divine the emotion in them. It was less lust than it was adoration and that both terrified her and made her glow.
“Is this what you want?” he asked, and his finger returned to her clitoris. The ecstasy returned immediately, but this time stronger, more intense, as though his finger entering her had heightened her sensitivity. He caressed her, over and over with the rhythm of an engine, bringing her to the edge of climax. She clenched the sheets in her hands as she gasped and then she collapsed as he pulled his hand away, returning his attention to her entrance.
The pattern continued, his bringing her to the edge and then entering her. Each time he penetrated her, it was harder, faster, and she became more slick. Each time he returned to her pleasure center, the bliss intensified.
Just as she thought she could stand no more—when her hands were fisted in the sheets and her back was arching, he tipped her over the precipice. She bucked and moaned, her hand going to his to keep it in place. She rode his fingers as wave after wave of pleasure rolled over her, far more than she had ever achieved alone.
When it stopped, she felt dizzy. Stars danced at the edge of her vision and she drew in ragged breath after ragged breath. Edward looked down at her with a look of utter satisfaction.
“Now you’re ready.”
***
He was going to marry this woman. As he watched her writhe beneath him, her mouth forming a delicate, desperate O and her fingers gripping his wrist like a drowning man gripping a lifeline, a door in his soul slammed shut. It was done. There would be no other woman underneath him. No wife in his bed that wasn’t her.
It wouldn’t be without its problems, lord only knew, but no problem would be as intolerable as letting her go again. Not now she’d been his.
“Now you’re ready,” he murmured. He braced himself on both hands, nudging her gently with his knee until her legs were wide open and waiting for him. He settled between them, the feeling natural, as though this was already a habit, a position they’d sought a hundred times.
The sated, post-climax haze on her expression cleared, and she caught her bottom lip between her teeth as she looked at him uncertainly. He dipped his head, capturing her mouth in a long, deep kiss. Her hands reached to caress his back, her fingers pressing hard into muscle, and it took every ounce of self-control not to plunge himself into her, knowing how hot and slick and ready she was.
But this was her first time making love, and he would make it perfect for her. The wild abandon could come later. He moved his lips from her mouth to her earlobe, licking and nibbling at it until he could hear her mewling beneath him. The sound made his cock throb, and she gasped as he grabbed her arse with both hands and pulled her against him, the base of his cock pushing against her sex.
