“Yell, Jessie.”
When his fingers probed to find her this time, she did yell, shattering his eardrums.
Port was a wonderful brew. But he hadn’t needed it. There was no more game in his mind, there was only giving and taking and knowing soul-deep pleasure.
He held on by a thread. He wouldn’t enter her until he’d given her pleasure. He kissed her mouth, her breasts, all the while stroking her, car
essing her, pushing her. When she cried out, tugging at his hair, pushing her hips upward, he knew he had to be the happiest man on earth. She was wild with pleasure, clutching him to her as if she wouldn’t survive without him. He pushed her and pushed her more, giving her all he could, and when he eased inside her, she moaned softly and whispered, “You were made for me, James. Just for me.”
He agreed. He didn’t have long to contemplate what she’d said. He was gone in moments, jerking over her, moaning as if he’d been shot, sweating like a stoat. When it was over, he collapsed on top of her.
“James?”
He was nearly dead. He didn’t want to talk. He didn’t want to think. He wanted to try to get through the next few moments still breathing. He’d been a wild man and she’d loved it. Both of them had gone mad. Everything had worked beyond the port, beyond his wildest dreams.
Utterly mad, and it had been beyond anything he’d ever felt in his life. He’d given her immense pleasure. He’d made her lose complete touch with the world. He was a happy man.
“James.” How could she even talk? How could she even think of a single word to say? He was nearly beyond what wits God had given him, and here she was saying his name as if it were the easiest thing in the world. He supposed it was his responsibility to make some sort of response. He managed to grunt.
She giggled. “I feel marvelous. What’s wrong with you? I’ve overpleasured you, haven’t I? Ah, James, did you see white lights? Do you feel fulfilled as a man? Will you revere me for as long as you live?”
He groaned, tried to push his arms up to get his weight off her, then collapsed again. “I’ll think of something. Just give me a while.”
She wrapped her arms around him and said, “I’m tipsy. Not as tipsy as on our wedding day, but tipsy enough to know that when stallions cover mares, they surely can’t enjoy it as much as I do. Having you inside my body, ah, well, perhaps if I had another glass of port—perhaps two—I would be able to express myself more properly.”
“You’re not being at all proper. Your mother would scold you. Glenda would smack your face. As for my mother, God alone knows what she would do.”
“He speaks,” she said, and laughed as she kissed his ear. “He speaks a lot. Your heart’s slowing, James.”
“I’ll live. It was close, but I’m fairly sure now that I’ll make it.”
He finally managed to push himself up onto his elbows. He looked down at a face he’d known for six years, once a young girl’s face, but no longer. She was a woman and his wife.
“The look on your face when you came to your release—it pleased me mightily, Jessie. You still look so bewildered, so anxious that whatever is happening is really going to happen again and again. It did. It always will with us. Did you enjoy yourself?”
“You didn’t lie there like a dead dog, James. You surely enjoyed yourself as much as I did. You sweated more and you made more noises.”
He kissed her. “Perhaps just a little. Am I an excellent lover?”
“The best. Am I your best lover?”
She regretted the words the instant they’d escaped unbidden from her mouth. Fool, she was nothing but a fool and now he would have to lie or he’d tell the truth, which would probably be worse. She thought of Connie Maxwell, of the countless other women he’d known, including his first wife, Alicia. Why hadn’t she just kept her mouth shut?
He looked thoughtful. He moved over her, as if settling in. He was still inside her. The hair on his chest tickled her breasts. “That’s difficult,” he said finally, leaning down to nibble her earlobe. “You still don’t know much yet, but your enthusiasm was deafening. My eardrums are still vibrating. I liked hearing you shriek.”
“I don’t remember shrieking precisely.”
“You aren’t a good liar, Jessie. Give it up. I love the feel of you. Every day, every night, perhaps after afternoon tea, perhaps just before lunch, and then there’s—”
That was an excellent beginning, she thought. “You got me tipsy on purpose, didn’t you?”
“You’re sobering up too quickly. Yes, I wanted you to melt for me, Jessie, and you did. The fact that I melted right along with you, well, that means that we’re very good with each other. I like to hear you giggle and laugh. Lovemaking should be fun. I always want you to enjoy yourself.”
“You put salt in the ham soup.”
“Yes.”
“Am I going to want to die tomorrow?”