Wishes in the Wind (Kingsleys in Love 2)

With a hoarse growl, he reached his limit.

“No more.” Dragging her from him, he rolled her onto her back, pressing her thighs wide apart. He knelt between her legs, staring down at her, his forehead slick with sweat, his midnight eyes nearly black with passion. “I’m about to explode.” He leaned forward, his fingers finding and opening her, sliding inside.

Nicole’s breath caught in her throat as Dustin stroked her delicate tissues, stretched her narrow passage to receive him. Sensuously, his fingers glided in and out of her heated wetness, his thumb circling and teasing the tight little bud that cried out for his possession.

“Now—oh, Dustin, now.” She sobbed aloud, twisting on the pillow, reaching for him.

“Not yet,” he muttered, his chest heaving with the exertion of holding back. “I’m too close to the edge. The minute I go into you, I’m going to erupt. I need you with me.

Drowning in passion, Nicole shook her head, realizing on some impalpable level that he was worried about giving her pleasure. Dustin, please … she wanted to shout. I’m already over the edge. Please … please …

All words and thoughts vanished as he bent down, utterly possessing her with his mouth, his fingers continuing their unbearable assault as his lips and tongue devoured her sweetness.

Nicole shrieked, sensation slamming through her, screaming along her nerve endings, hurtling to a crashing peak beneath her husband’s sensual onslaught. “Dustin!” she sobbed, her entire being shattering in a wild, unbearable release.

Instantly, he raised up, thrust deep inside her, erupting even as he did. His climax intensified as Nicole’s tremors convulsed around him, and he surged forward, pouring into her in wild, drenching bursts of completion. “Nicole … hold me,” he ground out, lifting her legs higher, wider, needing to be as deep inside her as possible.

Nicole wrapped herself around him, gasping his name with each flood of his seed, each spasm of her body.

They collapsed in each other’s arms, Dustin’s head dropping into the crook of her neck, his weight pressing her into the mattress, his body buried inside her still.

Eyes closed, Nicole drifted, stroking her husband’s damp back, conscious of every magnificent nuance—his lingering shudders, his harsh, rasping breaths, but, most of all, the warm wetness of his seed inside her, the tangible evidence of their union. “I love you,” she whispered.

Shakily, Dustin raised up, gazed solemnly into his wife’s eyes. “God, how I love you, Mrs. Kingsley. And I was right. You are a miracle. My miracle.”

Tears glistened on her lashes. “You’re quite miraculous yourself, my lord.”

They fell silent, savoring the aftermath, awed by the total oneness spawned by their lovemaking.

Long moments later, Dustin stirred, sifting strands of Nicole’s hair through his fingers, and smiling that lazy, bone-melting smile that made her breath catch.

“What?” she murmured.

“I was just thinking that you did away with my noble intentions once again. I meant for this, our first joining as husband and wife, to be all I denied you the first time—slow, tender, prolonged. It was anything but.”

“That’s true. Are you disappointed?”

Again, that heart-stopping smile. “I’m drunk with discovery. Ecstatic with happiness. And insane with love. But disappointed? No.” He brushed her lips with his. “Besides, we have countless opportunities ahead of us tonight. This was but the first.”

Nicole shivered, her pulse quickening. “Also true. Tell me, my lord, how long must we wait before taking advantage of our second opportunity?”

Dustin chuckled, moving sensuously against her, stirring as if the past frenzied moments had never occurred. “You tell me, my lady. Is now too soon?”

“Now would be ideal,” she assured him, lifting her arms around his neck.

“Good. Then perhaps this second time will be slow and tender.” His words ended on a groan as Nicole arched up, took him deeper into herself. “Then again,” he amended huskily, “perhaps not.”

Long, languorous hours later, Nicole curled contentedly in her husband’s arms, whole and happy and utterly replete … despite the fact that they had yet to master slow, tender, and prolonged.

“Sleepy?” Dustin murmured, kissing her shoulder.

“Yes and no. Too tired to stay awake, too exhilarated to sleep. Besides,” she added, sighing, “I don’t want to sleep. I want to make this night last forever.”

“It will, darling. I promise you, it will.” He propped himself up on one elbow, gestured toward the window. “The stars are out,” he observed.

“I know. I’ve been watching them shine down on us.”

“Have you? And have you also been wishing?” he prompted softly.