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His body was covered in sweat as he plunged his finger in and out of her depths while trying to control his own need. His cock was painfully hard, and every time he accidentally brushed her skin, it threatened to erupt.

Isabel wrapped her arms around his shoulders and bunched the fabric of his nightshirt tightly in her arms. Isabel writhed beneath him, her face a grimace of unfulfilled tension. She bucked her hips, and his thumb brushed the tiny bud above her center.

Isabel cried out and bucked her hips again. “Again,” she cried. “Do it again.”

Rhys circled her swollen bud with his thumb, his fingers still inside her. Isabel’s fingers curled into his shoulders, and her head fell back. He continued his ministrations, watching every minute feature of her face until she cried out and fell limp in his arms.

Rhys sat up, discarded his nightshirt, and fell back on the bed. He closed his eyes, took his erection in his hand, and squeezed. God, he wanted her.

But if she needed a reprieve from him after a moment of passion, he’d give it to her. She shifted on the bed, and Rhys opened his eyes just to see her face over his.

She smiled at him and ran her finger down his torso. “Now it’s my turn.”

* * *

Isabel crawled on top of Rhys and took his mouth in a kiss. After the incredible heights of pleasure he’d taken her to, she wanted to do the same for him. She licked his lips, then plunged her tongue into his mouth. He tasted like tea with sugar, sweet with a bit of spice.

Her hair fell on either side of them in thick cascades, covering them like curtains in an intimate setting.

Rhys sifted his fingers through her locks, then caressed her shoulders. Her skin shivered under his touch, and he smiled. Isabel broke the kiss and looked down at him.

He was absolutely gorgeous, this husband of hers.

Isabel stared at his naked chest, then ran her fingers against the small patch of coarse hairs in the center before scrubbing her fingertips over his skin.

Yes. This was what she was dying to feel all along. Skin on skin.

Her heart thumped loudly in her chest as she kept exploring his body. She kissed his neck, then the hollow at the base of his throat.

Rhys took her backside in his hands and squeezed. Isabel moaned, and her head fell back. Rhys took that opportunity to sink his mouth into her neck, then down to her breasts.

Isabel moaned, her hips moving in a sensual rhythm.

Suddenly, she remembered the cards she’d been perusing and was curious to try something out. Her hand slid lower, and she touched his engorged length.

“Wait,” Rhys said on a hiss and caught her fingers in his. “If you touch me there, I am not going to last more than two minutes.”

She didn’t care if it took him two minutes or two seconds. She wanted him to come to completion, and she wanted to be the one to cause it.

Isabel smiled slyly and, without breaking eye contact, slid down his body.

Rhys’s breathing accelerated, and he fell back with a groan.

Isabel reached his shaft and licked her lips. It was quite large, dark red, and covered with tiny veins. It was pulsing and seemed like it was about to burst. Isabel remembered how tiny it was that day at the stream and how she naively thought that was how it was going to stay.

Well, she couldn’t say she was upset to learn the truth. Isabel giggled.

Rhys raised his head. “A woman’s laugh is not something a gentleman likes to hear when he’s exposed to her in all his manly glory.”

Isabel covered her mouth with her hand and giggled again. “I am sorry. I think you are gorgeous.”

Rhys smirked. “It doesn’t appear so.”

“Oh, no. I do.” She tentatively touched his length with her fingertips, and it jumped in reaction. “It’s just… when I saw you naked for the first time, I thought it was rather tiny.”

Rhys sat up again, a familiar scowl adorning his beautiful face. “When was this?”

Isabel licked her lips. “I didn’t tell you this, but I saw you that day at the stream.”