His words.
Dear heavens, his filthy, wonderful words.
He was torturing her. She rocked against his hand, trying to urge him into resuming his teasing touches. “Yes. I do. I want everything.”
His thumb dipped, ever so slightly, into her opening. “Fingers or cock?”
She moaned. “Both.”
“Greedy darling,” he whispered against her ear, his chest pressed to her back, the wall of hot male muscle unbearably thrilling. He kissed her, then moved away, taking his heat and his persistent fingers with him. “Get on your knees for me.”
His low order took away the momentary sense of loss his retreat had caused, replacing it with anticipation. He had taken her like this before, and the positioning of their bodies allowed for a more intense pleasure. There was also something so seemingly forbidden about the placement, her on her knees, Hart at her back, that thrilled her. She loved the feeling of his big body dominating hers.
Emma rose to her knees, bracing herself on her forearms, her legs spread apart, and glanced over her shoulder to find him there, watching her with the familiar look of desire on his handsome face. He grasped his cock, which was already thick and beautiful and ready for her, stroking himself.
“Now tell me what you want, love.”
The knowledge he was looking at her most intimate place made a new pulse of desire start deep within her. She loved the way he adored her body, worshiping every part of her.
“I want you to fuck me,” she said, giving him the words she knew he wanted.
“Floating hell, I love it when those pretty aristocratic lips of yours say vulgar things.” He moved closer, then reached between her thighs, finding her pearl and swirling over it until a small moan fled her. Then he withdrew, sinking his fingers inside her in one swift thrust. “Fuck, Em. You feel so bleeding good. I love how slick you are for me, how hungry your cunt is.”
Her inner muscles clenched, and he obligingly moved in and out of her, his fingers finding the place that made her quiver and cry out. She was already at the edge, ready to come. As always, he sensed what she needed. He gave another kiss to her lower back, then caressed her hips before removing his fingers and slicking his cock up and down her folds. The wet, erotic sound of him moving against her made another little cry slip free.
Hart guided himself to her entrance. She had a moment to savor the teasing pressure of his cock head before he pushed inside. One thrust, and he was deep within her, the effortless slide of his thickness making her moan. This was where he belonged, joined with her, their bodies sweetly entangled. In these wild moments of shared passion, she knew she had been fashioned for him, and that he had been made for her. They had always been meant for each other.
“God, you feel so good, wrapped around my cock.” He began moving. “I wanted to fuck you slowly, but you make me lose control, sweetheart.”
“Yes,” she said. “I want you wild for me, my love. Take me.”
He made a low sound of desperate need, and then he gave them both what they so desperately wanted, beginning a rhythm of hard, fast thrusts that took him deep inside her, only to withdraw and then drive into her again. She went mindless as well, her entire concentration the point where their bodies connected, as she met him thrust for thrust. When his hand dipped between her legs to tease her throbbing bud, the explosion was instant.
She came apart, her chest seizing with the force of her pinnacle. Through it all, he kept his pace, fucking her with long, steady strokes. The violent crescendo of her crisis had only just begun to fade when his finger, already wet from her drenched cunny, found her back entrance. His rhythm unchanging, he teased her there, his finger circling the puckered hole. Forbidden delight made her clench on his cock, nearly pushing him from her body. Desperate for more, she arched into him. The pressure was at once unbearable and yet so very good, all of her stimulated at once as his finger moved deeper. His hips pounded into her with each stroke as he simultaneously fucked her with his finger in the most exquisite torture.
Her release took her by surprise, hitting her suddenly. Sheer bliss thundered through her, and she collapsed to the bed as he sank deep one last time.
“Em,” he bit out as he spent inside her, filling her with his seed.
They remained as they were, still joined, her body throbbing and humming with the intense aftermath of his lovemaking, his cock still pulsing inside her. Her heart was pounding, her body sated, and she had never felt more loved. Slowly, he withdrew from her, before tenderly kissing her shoulder and then her neck.
He settled on his back at her side, his head turned toward hers, his hazel gaze simmering with love. “You are perfection, my darling.”
By some miracle, she found the strength in her limp muscles to sidle closer, wrapping him in her arms. “There is something I must tell you. I meant to earlier, but…”
Her words trailed off, for they both knew the many reasons why she had been too preoccupied.
His brow furrowed. “What is it, love? Is something amiss?”
“No.” She cupped his cheek, love for this man beating so fiercely inside her breast she feared it would burst. “We are going to have a child, Hart.”
He stilled. “A child?”
“You are going to be a father.” The news was soon; they had not been wed for long. But they had spent so much of their married life making love, the absence of her courses had not been a surprise.
“My God, Em. I am going to be a father.”
“Yes.” She bit her lip, searching his countenance.
With a whoop of pure joy, he rolled her to her back. He kissed his way to her belly, where no trace of the tiny, precious life inside her was yet visible. And then he kissed her there, with such reverence, tears stung her eyes.
“I love you, Em. Thank you for making me the happiest bleeding man in England.”
She smiled, blinking against the joyful waterworks threatening to unleash. “And I love you, Hart Sutton. Thank you for making me the happiest bleeding lady.”
* * *