Her Christmas Pleasure (The Merry Widows 2)

Celia smiled when he slid his arm around her front. His hand settled at her waist, and he pulled her close. He rolled on his side. The faintest tremble moved through her, and her breasts quivered. Gooseflesh dotted her pale skin.

“Cold?” He kissed her once, a lingering, damp brush of his lips against hers. She tasted sweet, felt so right lying next to him.

His hopeful heart wouldn’t let him ignore it.

“N-no.” She shook her head, shooting him a tremulous smile. Reaching for him, she skimmed her fingers along the line of one shoulder, then the other, before they drifted down to trace across his chest, tangling in the curling hair that covered it. “Nervous,” she confessed. “It’s been so long, you see.”

He saw. He knew. She hadn’t been with a man—her husband—in well over three years. And she’d only ever been with Lawrence, so this was all new and different and perhaps…

Perhaps she wasn’t ready for it, for him yet.

He parted his lips, but she shushed him by placing her fingers upon his mouth. “I’m more than ready, Damien. Don’t you dare ask again. Can you not see how much I…want you?”

Her murmured confession drove him to near madness. Grabbing her wrist, he drew the tips of her fingers inside his mouth, sucking lightly, his gaze never leaving hers. She gave a breathy sigh; her eyes drifted closed as he continued his gentle assault, licking the tip of each of her fingers. Absorbing her sweet taste. He wanted to drive her wild with desire.

The action resulted in him driving himself wild with desire. Unable to stand it any longer, he withdrew her fingers from his mouth, gripped her hand in his and held their clasped hands above her head.

Leaning over, he kissed her. He pushed her deeper into the mattress as he traced her lips with his tongue. She opened, allowing his entry. He tasted her, searched her mouth with his tongue while his free hand burned a path down the length of her body. He molded his hands around her waist, and his fingers curved about her hip, then drifted across her stomach until he settled his palm between her legs.

Her thighs parted, giving him better access, and he took it. He combed his fingers through the curling hair covering her mound before dipping a single finger into her swollen, wet folds. Stroking deep, he swirled his thumb around and around the pulsating bit of flesh at the top of her slit. She cried out, her hips bucking, encouraging his exploration. He increased his pace, wanting to give her some sort of relief so he could continue taking his time with her.

If he could withstand it—or her—for much longer. He was desperate to get inside her.

Utterly desperate.

He slipped his index finger inside her tight, slippery heat, and her inner muscles clamped, eager to capture him. She was so wet that his finger eased deeply, her fragrant, uniquely feminine scent filling the air. He thrust slowly, in and out, again and again, and his ministrations drew a low, shuddering moan from her. He continued to rub her with his thumb, and the bit of flesh rose and swelled with his every stroke. He knew she was close. Very close to spending, if her straining hips and intense quivering were any indication.

“Oh,” she whispered with wonderment. She threw her head back, arching as she stilled for one single, hanging moment. And then she fell apart, her entire body shaking with her climax. Her whimpers and cries echoed throughout the room, rang loud in his ears. His cock jerked and lengthened eagerly.

She was beautiful when she was in the throes, and he watched her in fascination. Slowly, she relaxed. Her body melted into the mattress, and she slung an arm over her face, covering her eyes. Her other hand rested on the center of her chest. She inhaled deeply, as if she tried to calm her erratic breathing and her racing heart.

It was the sweetest, loveliest thing he’d ever seen.

“I’ve never experienced anything that…intense before,” she admitted between ragged breaths.

His chest swelled with pride.

“Damien.” Her soft whisper washed over him, cleansing him, and he went to her. He shifted so he was completely over her. Propping his elbows on either side of her head, he leaned all his weight on his forearms and pushed his erect cock against her belly.

Her eyes widened. “I can feel you.”

Damien smiled. “I should hope so.”

She spread her legs wider, and he settled deeper. The very tip of him brushed against her molten-hot center, and he closed his eyes. Breathing deep, he held still so he wouldn’t plunge inside like a beast and possibly hurt her.

“You’re rather…large.” She squirmed beneath him, and her jiggling body made his skin tighten with need. “I must tell you. I’m not very big.”

“Whatever do you mean?” Reaching for her, he feathered stray strands of her hair away from her forehead, reveling in the silky softness of her hair and skin. She was soft everywhere. Beautiful. Her feminine scent still lingered on his fingers. Musky and uniquely Celia.

Later he planned on tasting her. Pleasing her with his fingers and his tongue.

He could hardly wait.

>

“Sometimes…sometimes the act would hurt, if I may be truthful. And when I gave birth to Theo, I had a somewhat…difficult delivery.” She turned her head, her gaze tearing from his.

Sympathy flooded him. Thank Christ she’d told him. Otherwise he could’ve hurt her. The last thing he wanted to do.