“I’m greedy. I want you, I want your cock, I want your babies, I want—” She stopped herself from speaking. Stopped her movement of her hand along his length. Bit her lip. “I want everything.”
“I—”
“I want you to spend on my face.”
He looked down at her beautiful face. The face of a goddess. Not a chaste Artemis or Athena. But a wild, wanton temptress of the highest order. Aphrodite. She’d always been that, hadn’t she? A true voluptuary. The way she savored her food, thrilled to a vigorous ride through the countryside, relished a cool breeze on her skin.
He had persisted in boxing her in. Persisted in thinking her a child. Why? When he had allowed her to be the woman who was a mother to his son, the woman who ran his household.
He had been making her smaller than she really was. When really she was . . . utterly magnificent.
Her hand began to move again and there was no room for thought anymore, only the most urgent need. He was rising to a peak that towered over every fell.
She had been looking up at his face but then her rosy-gold lashes fluttered, her blue eyes disappeared as her neck bent, and she said, “You said you wanted to feast on me. Well, I want to feast on you.”
She took him in her mouth.
Oh, my God.Her mouth. Hot and wet like her quim had been last night despite his incompetence as a lover. His hips bucked, lurched, and thrust as she sucked at him and swirled her tongue over his tip like it was a spoonful of her favorite ice and her hand continued to move up and down as if she were feeding herself his shaft.
“Henrietta. I’m going to—” was all he got out as a warning and then it was upon him.
His first spurt landed far back in her throat, but she released him from her mouth and pulled her head back and the rest landed where she wanted it.
On her round cheeks. Her freckled nose.
Her perfect face was covered in his seed. Seed spent for pleasure only, not for a baby.
“Oh, my God,” he said out loud.
Her hand came away from his cock. Moments ago, during the act of pleasuring him, she had been bold and brazen. But now worry returned to her, and her forehead furrowed.
“Was that all right?”
His mind was blank. But it mustn’t be. He must say something to her. Summon words. Praise.
“That,” he dared to lay his hands on the face of his daring wife,“was more thanall right. That was unbelievable.” He ran a thumb through his spend on her cheek, and the anxiousness faded from her eyes. “Unbelievable pleasure. You just gave me. I thank you.”
“I must be a mess.” But now her voice wasn’t fretful. It was husky, without a trace of regret. Almost taunting.
“A beautiful mess,” he corrected her as he took out his handkerchief and cleaned her face gently.
She just stared up at him.
He took her hands and stood, drawing her up with him, his braces holding up his trousers as his fall flapped open.
Looming over her, he walked her backwards. She fell into her own chair with a little puff of surprise. He knelt at her feet and drew her skirts and petticoats up to her waist. Her round knees were together. He gently pushed them apart from each other, separating those plump thighs that belied the underlying muscle that kept her on her horse.
And then she was open to him, and he saw her beautiful sex that he had only felt in the dark last night. Tight, copper curls framing her dark-pink pudenda, glistening in the firelight.
She was wet for him.
Her fingers found his shoulders. He looked up from her gorgeous sex and said, “I’ve never?—“
“I haven’t either, as you know,” she said quickly. “None of this.”
“So you’ll have to help me. Tell me if you don’t like anything?—”
“You, too.”
