He thrust again on a groan as his tongue slid wetly into her mouth. She sucked, and he thrust some more.
Pain edged the pleasure. It was new. Strange. Exhilarating. She felt as if she might break apart into a thousand pieces at any moment. And she also felt as if she would never get enough. He moved in and out of her, and she could feel her body reacting to his. She surrounded him, and he sank into her. They were united and joined in a way they had never been before.
“Yes,” she told him, her body moving instinctively along with his.
The tension building within her threatened to explode.
She was burning, awash in sensation. Nothing could have prepared her for this, Theo’s lovemaking. It was him—loving and intense, sweet and delicious. He started moving faster, driving his hips against hers in a steady rhythm. Withdrawing, then sliding inside again. Faster. Harder.
She followed his lead, moving with him. Their lips and tongues mated, their bodies connected. His fingers dipped to the place where they were joined, toying with her pearl once more. The pain receded, replaced by nothing but pleasure, acute and beautiful. She was going to come undone. Lose herself again. There was something about the fullness inside her, of Theo plunging deep, that was almost unbearably pleasurable.
He left her mouth to rain kisses on her throat, chanting her name, thrusting. Everything within tightened, as if drawn into a knot. Bliss exploded inside her, rocking her to her core. It was stronger, better, more powerful. She quaked beneath him, surrendering herself to the undeniable passion.
On a growl, he began moving faster, taking her in a series of quick, hard thrusts that had her clamping on him again, lighting her from within. He stiffened, pinned her to the bed with one last thrust, and then the warmth of his seed flooded her.
He collapsed against her, his weight nearly crushing, his heart beating faster than ever. Her sweet beast, tamed at last. She held him to her, kissing the top of his head, then rubbing her cheek over his thick, dark hair.
“Evie. Sweet fuck.” He was breathless.
She smiled and stroked his back, holding him to her when he would have retreated. “Sweet fuck indeed.”
“Hell.” He raised his head, gazing down at her with a look of such undisguised adoration, she melted inside. “You ought not repeat me, love. I’ve a wicked tongue.”
Her smile grew. “I know you do, and I love it.”
He chuckled. “Minx.”
“Your minx,” she reminded him, her heart full.
“Mine,” he agreed, and then he kissed her again.
Epilogue
“For never wasa story of more woe than this of Juliet and her Romeo,” Devil finished, his throat feeling thick and his eyes strangely watery.
He was a hesitant reader, and he still stumbled over many words, but he had vastly improved with Evie’s patience and help. It had been her idea to finishRomeo and Juliettogether, with Devil reading.
A decision he regretted now.
Well fuck me, that’s a bloody sad ending.He had seen it coming, of course, but he had been hopeful all would end differently. That Juliet and her Romeo might find a way to be together and happy after all, just as he had with Evie.
He glanced up from the volume he had been reading to find his wife watching him with a strange expression. He wanted to kiss her. She was wearing the night rail that was temptingly transparent, but it was stretched over her burgeoning belly, where their child grew. Soon, she would have to have another commissioned, and then she could tempt him with that one instead. He hardened just thinking about it—the forthcoming removal of this one, and what the next one might look like.
There. That was much more the thing.
Her nose crinkled. “Are you…weeping?”
Impossible. Devil Winter did not nap the bib. He never cried. He had not wept a single tear since he had been a lad. Even then, it had not taken him long to understand the fruitlessness of such an endeavor. The woman who had birthed him had cuffed him for his troubles. He was to be seen, not heard, and if he wasn’t picking pockets to pay for the bread on the table, he was worthless to her.
But his cheeks were wet. He realized it belatedly. No denying that. The play was terrifically sad. What was a man to do?
“It is tragic,” he admitted. “Senseless. The two of them should have been happy.”
“Oh, my love.” There was tremendous tenderness in her voice, in her gaze. “You have such a sweet heart.”
Maudlin sentiment.
He growled. “I have something else that is sweeter if you’d care for a taste.”
