The Heiress Bride (Sherbrooke Brides 3)

He lay between her legs as she had between his. He settled himself over her, balancing his weight on his elbows. “Now,” he said. “Look at me, Joan. Yes, that’s right. Now, I must have you kiss me some more. It’s important, else I’ll just have to pretend I’m enjoying myself. Surely you don’t want me to feign enjoyment with you.”

“Oh no,” Sinjun said, finding no fault with his program. When she was kissing him, she could momentarily forget about that part of him pressing against her belly, huge and hot and it would hurt, impossible for it not to, but she was resolute, she wouldn’t let him down this time. She wouldn’t ever again let him down. He wanted her and she would have him in any way he wished.

Colin took his time. He kissed her, parting her lips, and slipped his tongue into her mouth. He kissed her until finally, blessed be to the kind heavens above, she moaned and squirmed beneath him. He smiled a bit painfully, then eased down her body to caress her breasts. She tasted wonderful and the feel of her sent him shuddering with need.

“You want me enough now, Colin?”

He ducked his head down at the sound of that strained little voice. “No, no, not just yet. I need more, Joan. It takes me time to grow into my need.”

“Very well.”

“Are you enjoying what I’m doing to you? That is, sweetheart, it’s not necessary, but you might as well as long as I am.”

“Oh yes, it feels quite nice.”

Just you wait, sweetheart, he thought, as he moved down until his tongue was lightly caressing her white belly. He felt the deep clenching of her muscles, felt her quiver then, and he knew that she didn’t know what he would do, but she was very interested, she was excited, she was nearly ready to have him topple her over the edge.

He gave her his mouth in the very next instant, and she yelled, her hands fisting in his hair.

He kissed her and caressed her with his mouth. His fingers eased into her and he thought he’d burst with the joy of it. She was ready for him. Very ready. He brought her to the edge, then quickly reared up over her, lifting her hips in his hands.

“Look at me, Joan.”

She opened her eyes as he eased inside her. He saw her Sherbrooke blue eyes widen and he knew she was tensing, waiting for pain, but she would wait in vain. Yes, indeed. There would be no pain.

He kept easing into her, lifting her hips to take more of him. He felt her flesh stretching to accommodate him, but there was no pain, of that he was certain. Her warmth made him grit his teeth to keep his control.

“Colin?”

“What’s the matter, doesn’t that feel nice?”

“Oh blessed hell, yes. I don’t understand. Why aren’t I feeling that awful hurt again? I’m stretching to take you, I feel filled with you, but it doesn’t hurt. It feels quite nice, actually.”

He drove forward, seating himself to his hilt inside her. Then he came back down over her and began to kiss her. “Move against me, Joan, it will enhance my pleasure. It’s what you want for me, isn’t it?”

“Oh yes,” she said, and moved in rhythm to him, jerkily at first, but then her body responded without her mind’s interference. He kissed her and fondled her and moved in a fierce rhythm in and out of her. Finally, when he knew he couldn’t keep his brain in charge any longer, he eased his hand between their bodies and found her.

He watched her face as his fingers caressed her.

She looked, quite simply, absolutely astounded.

“Colin,” she said on a high thin wail.

“Yes, sweetheart. Let’s meet this together, shall we?”

“I don’t understand what’s happening here—” she began, then threw her head back, her back arching, and cried out, her body convulsing around him, and he let himself go.

She was utterly still beneath him.

Colin finally slowed his breathing. He pressed his palm to her breast. Her heart was still galloping. He grinned. He wanted to dance.

“E

asy now,” he said, and feathered her lips with his.

Her breathing slowed. Her hand fluttered up, then dropped to her side. He rather wished she would hug him but decided he’d exhausted her. It was rather nice to do that to one’s wife, particularly when she had fully expected to be impaled and ravaged.

“You were very brave, Joan,” he said, serious as a man in the confessional. “I think you’re wonderful to hide your pain from me, to make me believe you were enjoying yourself. I’m the luckiest of men to have such a giving and noble wife.”