Marquesses at the Masquerade(78)

“Annalise,” he murmured.

He took her hand, keeping his fingers safely over hers as he guided her along his sex. As she explored, his lips sought hers, opening her mouth. His tongue swirled against hers as he taught her how to touch him. His pleasure flowed through her as if they were immersed in the same current. When he opened his eyes, a burning glow in their depths appeared almost predatory, yet his touch was gentle as his lips trailed down her neck and onto her shoulder. His fingers stroked her just under the line of her nightgown, telling her that he wanted more if she would allow him.

Her nipples hardened, and a wet throb burned between her legs. She reached for the tie string of her gown. He drew back, keeping his gaze fixed on her face as she undid the knot. She drew down the sleeves until her breasts were bared before him. She felt no shyness as he took her in. She wanted to share herself with him. She wanted to be known.

“Dear Lord,” he whispered. He kissed her lips as he swept his arm beneath her, resting her upon the mattress. Then his mouth glided lower and lower as he drew away her gown, revealing her entire body to him.

“You’re beautiful, so beautiful,” he said and let his warm tongue lap the tip of her nipple.

She released a strangled cry. Every small scrap she had picked up along the way about the intimate relations between a husband and wife was very wrong. She always imagined in her daydreams that the bride would be more passive, finding less delight in the act than the husband. Yet, as his tongue fondled her breast, she felt as though she were breaking apart with want. She writhed, pushing against him, driving herself deeper into his mouth. The pleasure was most intense between her legs, where her sex throbbed, wet and swollen.

He appeared to know how she ached for him. He let his hand drift slowly lower and lower, until his fingers rested outside her sex. There, he lingered. Did he know he was torturing her? Why wasn’t he touching her, or doing something to relieve the desire that burned so strong that it hurt? She bit down on her lips, and her thighs started undulating against the mattress. She couldn’t control them. Her mind might not know how to make love, but her body clearly did. It had carried around the unspoken secret all these years.

His warm breath tickled her breast. “Wife, you are killing me,” he said in a hoarse whisper, and his finger finally slid lower, coming to light on the mound between her legs. A powerful sensation radiated from where he touched, sending waves across her body. And he kept moving his finger, not letting the pleasure dissipate, but allowing it to build as she whimpered. She had never known such exquisite joy could exist. She kissed his lips, his cheeks, and whispered his name, letting her tongue relish its sounds. Her body began to quake from pleasure. All other thoughts ceased except that he had to be in her body. He had to satisfy that maddening want deep inside her. The course was irreversible now.

She reached out to him, crying, “I must know you.”

“We can wait.” His voice was ragged.

Wait? That’s all she had done for years. Wait for death, wait in silence, wait alone with unrequited love. “No, no, I can’t! Please! Let me give something to you. Let me give you pleasure too.”

He bowed his head, taking a deep breath as though steeling himself. Then he came to rest atop her, his robe open, shielding their bodies. She felt safe beneath him, sheltered by him as the cold rain splattered the windows. He kissed her softly, assuring her that she was lovely and brilliant as his sex pressed against her. A spasm of pain ran through her, and she released a high, humming cry as his body entered her body.

“Dear God,” he cried.

She became still. She held on to his arms, feeling his body tremble. The pain receded, leaving her to marvel at the sensation of him, his power, his energy, his being inside her. She hadn’t expected his presence to feel profound. Almost sacred. She touched his cheek. He turned his face to kiss her palm. Her gold wedding band gleamed in the light. The wedding vows she had uttered with fear and trepidation in the empty, cold chapel now found peace in her heart. She was a wife now. His true wife. She wouldn’t be alone again.

Tears burned in her eyes.

Her dear husband misunderstood and panicked. “We can stop!”

“No, please, don’t. I—I didn’t know it would be so lovely. I didn’t know.”

The fear on his face melted away, replaced by a tender smile. His lips brushed her forehead. “And may it always be for us—lovely.”

He began to move, back and forth, gently. Her body met his, complementing his motion. The intense desire returned, drawing her under its powerful current until her quaking cry mingled with his, and he withdrew, spilling wet heat onto her belly.

Later, as her spent body rested against his, she felt as though she were floating on warm golden light, even as the rain poured outside. He held her tight to his chest, and she lulled in the reassuring rhythm of his breath and thrum of his heart. She had never felt so safe and fully herself. Did he feel the same? She smiled as she remembered the pleasure on his features as he loved her. She sat up on her elbows and studied his face, taking in all its facets. She had a lifetime now to learn every little thing about him.

He stroked her damp hair, drawing a strand from her face and locking it behind her ear. A boyish smile lazed on his lips.

“I guess we waited a half an hour or so,” she observed. “Is that what you meant when you said we could wait?”

“No.” He tapped her nose. “I was trying to be the good, patient husband, and you spoiled all my best intentions. But in truth, I wanted to make love to you the moment I walked into this chamber and saw you with your lovely hair long and shining. I could see the outlines of your breasts in the gown that you said was boring. I found the sight quite tantalizing.”