She was a mouse. He, with his fire-streaked dark hair, handsome face, and powerful body, was a lion.
If she didn’t get a measure of respect from him, he’d swallow her whole. But what skills did she have? She didn’t have a glib tongue, couldn’t tease as handily as the dairymaid. Hadn’t a body that men couldn’t resist following with their gazes.
Perhaps her form wasn’t the enticement, but what she did with it might be.
If the key to a man’s happiness lay in the satisfaction of his appetites, well, wouldn’t his sensual appetites be a weapon she could use? Had she the courage to entice him or attempt to enslave him in that way?
The thought of bringing him to his knees with passion ignited a curl of flame inside her own belly. She rubbed her buttocks against him to see whether he was still awake and felt the prod of his rigid staff. Encouraged, she nestled closer and opened her legs to allow his sex to slip between her thighs, and then held her breath. Would he understand her invitation?
Roland tightened his arm around his little wife’s waist. He’d read her invitation all right and smiled at how well things were progressing between them. His rough play hadn’t frightened her at all. Now, he had hopes he could mold her into the wife he wanted. He’d make a lusty wench of her yet.
She rolled within the circle of his arms and met his gaze, hers shyly sliding away. Her hand crept over his chest, and her fingers slid into his hair to pluck.
He waited for her to give him a signal of what she wanted now. His arousal grew as her legs snuggled closer and her belly rubbed his lengthening cock.
“Husband?” she began, her voice a barely audible whisper.
“Yes, wife?”
“What you did before…” She bit her lips, and her gaze darted to his then away again.
His lips began a slow upward curve. “When I pleasured you with my mouth?”
She nodded and tucked her chin low as her cheeks grew pink. “Um…would that also please you?”
Roland’s chest billowed with his sharp inward breath. Did she mean…? “More than anything,” he said, surprised he could speak past the growl threatening to rumble from his chest.
Her soft hands slid down his chest, and she leaned slightly away to make room to slide them lower, past his belly, which tightened at her slight touch. When she reached his cock, he closed his eyes and held his breath, waiting for her to touch him t
here.
Her hand trembled as her fingers glided over his length. “Teach me what brings you pleasure, milord.”
Sweet Jesus! She pleased him—more than he could say. His jaw clenched when her warm palm encircled his shaft, and suddenly she was scooting down the bed, her hot breath washing over his belly until her mouth was poised over him.
She waited there. Roland took a deep breath and reached down to grasp the crown of his sex. “Your lips…here,” was all he could manage to say.
She needed no further instruction. Her hot mouth engulfed the head, robbing him of coherent thought. His hips bucked, and she gripped his staff hard with her hands and continued to suckle him, her tongue gliding around him, taking his breath and his mind.
So sweet. God, she was perfect. He thrust his fingers into her hair and guided her as gently as he could, showing her with little surges of his hips that she could take his cock deeper into her mouth. She murmured eagerly, the sound vibrating on his sex.
He wrapped a hand around both of hers where they gripped him, and together they stroked up and down his shaft until she got the idea and pushed his hand away. Beneath her wicked mouth and firm hands, his cock filled to bursting. If he didn’t end it soon, she’d be in for another surprise.
But she drew away and stared, holding him straight up with one hand grasping him near the root. “I can’t believe my body accommodates you.” She stuck out her tongue and licked the silvery bead oozing from his eye.
“Does it want to accommodate me now?” he gritted out.
Her face was taut, her desire plain in her heated gaze. “Please?”
Roland had a fleeting thought that he’d succeeded beyond his wildest fantasy in molding her into the wanton wife of his dreams. Feeling very pleased with himself and filled with a warm affection he’d never known for a woman, he smiled and extended his hand.
That green-apple ache was back in Margaret’s belly again, and silken fluids seeped to wet her woman’s furrow. Now, she recognized both as desire—her body’s open invitation to her husband.
Staring at his hand, she swept out her tongue to rim her lips. His nostrils flared, and his gaze dropped to watch. Still, his fingers curled in invitation. She knew that if she wanted to keep the upper hand she should make him wait, but she suddenly realized she didn’t want him bound to her will, at least not here.
She lifted her hand and slid it inside his rough palm and let him pull her up his body until she rested over him. The view from on top was heady and made her tremble with want. His body was hers to take. However she wanted. Beneath his dark gaze, she stared down at him, marveling at the muscle that flexed at the side of his jaw, at the broad chest that spanned hers and beyond, at the thickly corded thighs that bunched as he held himself in check.
In their bed, she wanted to be overwhelmed…even frightened…by his need. He thrilled her beyond her imaginings.