Sating himself on the pleasure pangs that roared through him, he held on to her tightly. Sweet Christ, everything felt so different—this experience with her. Nothing would or could ever be the same for him again. This he knew without a shadow of a doubt.
* * * *
It was happening. Right now he was inside her, and it did not hurt, nor was there any fear in the experience. Jeremy was passionate in the throes of his pleasure with her. Dominating, but tender, he demonstrated great desire and need as he moved. He was also a vocal lover, speaking all manner of things while he stroked into her—insensible whisperings, endearments, her name, the Lord’s name, and an ever-present striving moan that showed her the mystery of a man’s want for a woman’s body.
Georgina felt every inch of him moving, and with each new pulse, the compressions gave way to willful feelings of desire, heretofore unknown. She let him take her. She wanted it. He was different right now. Jeremy was wild and unrestrained and abandoned and beautiful, utterly beautiful in his raging passion.
Eventually, it reached a point where she could sense a change in him. His breathing quickened, his shaft felt harder, and then he stiffened, his whole body becoming rigid over her. His head rocked, his lips pulled back to show clenched, white teeth that choked out her name, over and over. His eyes never left hers, looking fierce, emotional, pained even as he clutched her face close to his.
She felt his sex kick inside her as he held it for a time before slowing and then finally coming to a rest, his tension releasing into lax, languid limbs atop her. Georgina knew he had spilled his seed as he found his release. Then she felt a great deal more wetness. Dear, God! That’s how it will be with him.
Wanting to give herself and be passionate in return seemed natural. This act, with him, was not unpleasant—far from it. Jeremy like this with her was meant to be. She’d felt how much he wanted her, and she would do this willingly for him because it was what he needed. There was no hurt or shame in what they’d just done. Oddly, she wanted more, but didn’t really grasp what, exactly, “more” could be.
It took a long time for Jeremy’s breathing to level out. Finally he moved off her. She knew a strange longing when he pulled himself out of her, felt the gush of his seed and her own slick fluids. The wet between her legs gave evidence of the most intimate union between a man and a woman. They were truly married now.
Jeremy kissed her forehead and brushed his thumb over her lips. “Tell me if you are well.”
“Mmmmm,” she assured, nodding against his hand that still held her face. “I am.” After another moment of quiet, she asked the question she needed answered. “Jeremy, was it—was it—are you well? I mean, was it—did I do—”
He laughed at her. “You swell my heart with your sweet inquisition. And my answer can only be yes. You were utterly perfect.” He kissed her once more. “Have no doubts about my pleasure when you are in my arms. In fact, that’s where I must have you all night long.” He adjusted her comfortably against him in anticipation of sleep. “Right here up against me.” His hand smoothed over her curved hip and pulled her to him, fusing their lower halves.
Jeremy’s words relieved her, for if she could have him next to her like this, she would feel safe and never worry. “And I wish to be.”
The three glasses of wine must have finally taken effect when she drifted off because she opened her eyes sometime later. Jeremy was warm against her, his hand settled low at her breast. And he was something else, too. Hard. Georgina could feel the ridge of his manhood pressing into her hip, and oddly, she liked the idea that his body was affected to want her again.
“How are you feeling, Gina? Tell me. I must know.”
Georgina thought about the question before answering. “I feel much cherished by you, Jeremy.”
Hearing her response must have been encouragement enough because he rolled atop her, starting th
e whole intimate act all over again.
She gasped in air at the thought. Thrilling, desirous feelings flooded her. Yes! God, yes! Do it again! There was no worry this time. Georgina knew she had nothing to fear from having Jeremy love her like this. The elation at such knowledge gave her a power she had not felt in a long, long time.
Jeremy moaned desperately. “I want you too much. I have needed you so badly, waited so long, and I cannot hold myself back from you—I can’t—I’m sorry!”
Georgina pushed at him to get his attention, “Do not be sorry. No being sorry, ever! I wish this with you. Jeremy! Ahhh…never sorrrry!”
* * * *
She said it. She wants me.
He took her again. Proving to himself he could be more gentle and controlled than he’d ever thought possible, Jeremy arrived at a blissful peace afterward. A peace such as he’d never known, content and relieved with their scents blending into the musky smells of sweat and their passion and her soft warmth folded against him.
“When I set out to bed, I want you in here with me so I can reach over and find you in the night. Every night, Gina. I want you next to me like this.”
She sighed contentedly and nestled against him, her fingers brushing over his pectoral, caressing the same spot over and over. Jeremy had never known such depth of feeling in intimacy with another person. It was strange but wonderful. Now he was the one feeling cherished. God, it was such a good feeling!
Later still, their limbs entwined, it was an easy thing to find sleep together in this first night. The mere thought of Georgina anywhere but next to him seemed unthinkable.
He didn’t make it through the whole night though. Watching his wife in her sleep, Jeremy was entranced. Dark golden hair mussed and swirling over the pillow framed her face, her neck, and the graceful hollows that smoothed into the cleavage of her breasts.
Those breasts of hers. He’d known they would be spectacular, but nothing had prepared him for the reality. They were a work of human art all on their own—creamy swells topped with dusky rose nipples that flowed out to her sides from the weight of gravity pulling on them. He could remember their taste, like pears. In the dim shadows, he could just make out the love-bites he’d sucked onto all that luscious skin.
God, she was an artist’s dream. An artist that painted nudes, he thought wryly, remembering his shock when she’d dropped her robe. The best, happiest damn shock he’d ever known.
She looked peaceful right now, but he had to wonder how she really felt about the sex. Did she submit out of duty only? Had it been pleasurable at all?