“All right,” he answered. She needn’t say more.
He arched his spine slightly back, pressing down into the mattress, easing only the base of his cock out of her before rocking forward in a smooth, gentle thrust.
The friction was negligible, but it was all they needed for an aching, remarkable pleasure to bloom between them.
She sucked in short breaths as he rocked her with slow, stinging curls of his hips, remaining deep inside of her, pressing against her womb.
He thought he might die from the pleasure of it.
Finally, she pulled back a little to look at him, her features a mixture of awe and bewilderment.
And pleasure.
More. She needed more. He could give her more.
He licked his thumb and brought it between them, to where she was so small and soft and yet spectacularly tight around him. He brushed at the crest of the distended, swollen nub at the hood of her core.
She made a sound so low and lovely in the back of her throat it might have been the purr of a lioness. Her fingers drew up the column of his neck and slid into his hair.
When he thrummed her again, she tightened her grip, allowing a soft sound of encouragement to escape her.
Reflexively, she pressed a hand to her mouth.
“No,” he said huskily, kissing her fingers without once breaking his steady, slow rhythm. “There is no need to silence your pleasure. Sing it to the night, my lovely wife. Let it know you are mine, and that I, alone, can make you feel this way.”
He licked at the seams of her fingers, and they fell away, returning to grasp at his hair.
God, he loved it when she did that. Anchored his neck so she could control their hot, slippery kiss.
A triumphant joy welled within him when her hips began a tentative dance. Flexing and rolling to the rhythm of his.
He timed the thrusts of his tongue to that of his hips, the feather-soft brushes of his thumb an off-beat percussion that set her thighs to quivering. Her eyes darkened, becoming decadent, dark pools of fathomless longing.
“Piers,” she warned, little concussive tremors building along the feminine flesh now clamped around his cock.
“Don’t wait for me,” he whispered against her mouth, laving at her with heated kisses and strong thrusts of his tongue.
In truth, he could have come the moment she’d wrapped her slim fingers around him.
But he’d be goddamned if this was over that quickly. He’d previously vowed to make her drenched and exhausted before he finished with her, and, at the moment, she was only one of those things.
Gloriously wet.
He dipped his finger lower, wickedly testing where their bodies were joined, gathering the abundant moisture there and swirling it around her throbbing hood.
Her lips tore from his as her spine arched and flexed, her head dropping back on her shoulders as a hoarse, guttural cry broke from her.
She convulsed around him, over him, her sex milking at him in voluptuous, rhythmic waves. Her unbound hair brushed the small of her back, and her clasping fingers tore at his own locks as she shivered and shuddered in a long, extravagant release.
Christ, her pleasure was the most beautiful sight on this entire fucking globe. If he never saw another exotic mountain vista, or volcanic eruption, or even the unparalleled paradise of shores both familiar and foreign. If he was cursed to stay in one place, forever in the dark, he would gladly do it if only to watch the graceful arch of her body as it locked in the throes of the bliss he could give her.
His own release pulsed into his cock, ready to rush into her, and he bit down on his tongue hard enough to make it bleed. Not yet.
Not until she begged him to stop.
* * *
Alexandra collapsed against her husband, curled around him, allowing the voluptuous pulses of liquid pleasure to drift away.
Awestruck and humbled, she marveled at the freedom and profundity of what she’d just experienced. What beauty she’d seen behind her eyelids as she’d come apart with hm inside of her. The dances of light and that electric enchantment that was part of him, part of what he did to her.
It took her only a few deep breaths to realize that he remained inside her, hard and hot as ever, his body still corded taut and features straining to remain civil, and rapidly losing the battle.
“You … you didn’t…”
Though his muscles built upon themselves beneath the weight of his self-possession, his hands were gentle as they took her face. “Are you through, Alexandra?” He forced the question through a straining throat before lowering his lips to her neck, sampling the salt and musk of her skin.
“What do you mean?”
“Let me spread you beneath me,” he requested tightly, lips drifting down her throat, and across her chest. “I need to see you. To see this.” He rocked once more into her still-quivering flesh. “I need to taste…” A hand lifted her breast, covering her nipple in the decadent, wet heat of his mouth.
The indecency of his request, along with his position, was enough to build a languid excitement within her loins.
“Yes,” she sighed, as he moved his attentions to her other breast.
Her eyes popped open as he withdrew, and she was suddenly on her back, her legs spread wide by the weight of his hands.
“My God,” he groaned. “You’re so pink and perfect.”
With an ice-blue glint in his eyes, he descended upon her, applying his tongue to her delicate flesh, flaying her open with long, flat licks until, miraculously, a new and insistent desire built within her womb. Once her hips began to lift from the bed, he concentrated his ministrations to the one place she knew would soon implode with a hot thrill of bliss.
And, once more, he pulled away just before she came, prowling up her body like the dark panther who’d stolen his beauty, or gifted it to him.
He slid into her with one fluid, beautifully deep motion, settling into another deliberate, controlled rhythm. His alert eyes searched her face, gauged her expressions.
She felt his hesitancy. His lingering restraint, and she brought her hands around his waist and lower, pressing him deeper.
“More,” she whispered, feeling him tense, seeing the question in his eyes. “More,” she repeated, lifting her hips to meet his.
His thrusts quickened, driving deeper, pressing her higher.
She loved this, the softness of the mattress at her back, the hardness of him on top of her. She felt safe. She felt … glorious. She found she could control the rhythm with her hips, lifting faster, harder, taking all of him inside, all his animalian ferocity, his noble grace.
The lust that drove him to the edge of his control.
He swelled inside of her, growing impossibly larger, finding a place within her body just as prone to pleasure as the little pearl without.
Pleasure gripped her once more, this time deeper than before, an all-encompassing pulsating riot of thrills tearing through her veins until even her fingers and toes were infused with the sparkling, shimmering whole of it.
It didn’t take her from herself. Not this time. She watched with fascinated awe as he followed her to that place. Gasping her name, groaning it, then roaring as liquid jets of his release bathed her womb.
He was the most beautiful like this, she thought. Helpless against pleasure, held in the heat and thrall of her body. His every sinew rippled with a bliss that seemed to match hers, perhaps even exceeded it as sumptuous shudders overtook his large frame before he finally gave one last, deep drive inside of her.