In Need of a Wife

He laughed joyously as he raised himself on to his knees. His hands unfastened the waistband of his trousers. The zipper followed. ‘Now you can do it all the way over me.’

Her eyes widened at the bulge in his underpants. He looked so...big. Her mind fluttered to Tyler. She had never been intimate with any other man. She couldn’t remember feeling so...mesmerised...by the sight of Tyler. Nathan was different. Nathan was enticingly different, excitingly different, magnificently different. And he certainly wanted her as much as, if not more than, she wanted him.

Her hands moved to draw his trousers down, to see, to know, to touch. He leaned over her and ran his tongue over the swell of her breasts above the bodice line of her dress. “You taste good, too,” he murmured. Then his teeth closed over the edge of satin and tugged.

Good heavens! she thought, he’s really going to do it. Undress me without using his hands.

‘There’s a zip at the back.’

‘I’ll get to it.’

‘You’ll need help. You can’t do this by yourself.’ The strapless bodice was boned to mould around her breasts and it was impossible to tug it down without undoing the zipper first.

‘Trust me. I can do it,’ he growled, having moved the satin enough to dip his tongue into her cleavage, making her impatient to feel the hot, tingling caress on her nipples. What would he make her feel when he reached them?

‘You undressed yourself with the tricky bits,’ she argued.

‘True.’

‘It’ll be better if I undress myself.’

He sighed. ‘If you must.’

‘Stand up for a moment.’

He moved swiftly, unpinning her. He was off the bed, ridding himself of the last of his clothes before Sasha found enough presence of mind to sit up. What she saw made her breath catch in her throat, made her temples pulse with a roaring of blood. Her mind glazed with the wonder of taking all of him. An experience, she thought, a once-in-a-lifetime experience no woman in her right mind would pass up. Even if it was wrong.

She swung herself off the bed, turning away from him so she wouldn’t be caught staring. He was tearing off his shoes and socks. Her legs felt quivery. Her hands were tremulous. She fumbled over the hook and eye. She finally managed to get it apart, grabbed the head of the zipper and scorched it down her back.

As the red satin slid off her body to pool at her feet, Sasha heard Nathan’s sharp intake of breath, knew they were definitely beyond the point of no return now, and didn’t care. A wild exultation filled her mind as she stepped away from the dress and turned to face what was to come.

For this one night I’ll do anything I want, anything I like, she thought, casting off all the inhibiting shadows that might encroach on the blissful sense of freedom. She had wanted Nathan Parnell almost from the first moment they met, and the wanting had increased with everything he’d done for her, everything he was. If she never had him again, she would have him tonight.

He stared at her, his eyes feasting on what she had bared for him. ‘Perfect breasts,’ he groaned, stepping closer to cup them in his hands. The warmth of his palms and the caress of his fingers felt perfect to Sasha.

She ran her hands up his arms, over his shoulders, revelling in the naked strength that was bared to her. He felt like polished wood, hard and satiny smooth, but he was warmly, wonderfully alive. His hands suddenly slid around her back, pulling her into an urgent embrace, flattening the soft pliant fullness of her breasts against his chest, flooding her body with the throbbing heat of his. His fingers raked her pantihose down, clearing the curve of her bottom so he could fill his hands with its roundness and press her into an even more intimate awareness of his arousal.

‘You’re too excited!’ she exclaimed.

‘Disagree.’

He had no time for words. He bent to roll the sheer nylon down her thighs and his mouth closed over one of her breasts, and he used his lips, tongue, teeth, with such exquisite eroticism that Sasha thought she would die from the pleasure of it. She grasped his head and forced it to her other breast, wanting to feel it there, too. She lifted her leg so he didn’t have to move away to complete the removal of the stocking. He took her shoe with it. The other leg. The other breast.

Please. More. Yes, yes, yes. She didn’t know if she said the words or whether they simply pulsed through her. Free of the other stocking and shoe, his hand sliding between her thighs. Yes, there, too, yes, yes, and he did it with caring softness, sweet blissful caresses along the sensitive folds, soothing and exciting, more and more exciting, an arc of vibrating excitement from her breasts to the rhythmic plunging of his fingers, but fingers weren’t enough. She wanted...

‘Nathan...’ Her hands clawed at his back, tugged at his head, frantic with urgency.

He responded with a surge of strength, lifting her, sliding the hard power of his virility to the centre of her need. She coiled her legs around his waist, leaned back, and moaned with ecstatic relief as she felt the massive force of him enter her, filling her, pushing past the convulsive spasms of muscles that closed and expanded around him, reaching further, further, stretching for...

‘Let go, Sasha. Let go.’

Her mind was in chaos, unknowing what he meant. Her legs were locked around him. She couldn’t let him go...except her arms. She let them slide limply from his neck and he caught her securely as she fell back, supporting her bottom and waist. And he began rotating like a ballet dancer in a spin. She stretched out her arms, her hair floating as he turned and turned...a carousel of throbbing intimacy, the connection deeply inside, undulating, all of him, all of her.

There was a sharp tingling through her skin as the blood drained into her torso, her face, her head. It was dizzying, intoxicating. The room was going around and around with the beat of his thrusting maleness, a pump of pleasure deep within her, strong and constant as she floated around it, melted around it, shattered into a million exploding pieces around it.

Then he caught her to him and laid her back on the bed, stacking pillows under her so she didn’t need his support, and his hands were free to stroke her in harmony with the stroking within. An erotic feathertouch under her hipbones as he slid forward, a light palm pressure on her stomach as he deepened the thrust, the uplifting capture of her breasts as he drove to the end, then all the way back again with the mind-blowing anticipation of the next slow plunge, and the next.

It was beautiful, enthralling, hypnotic in its repetitive pattern, yet the desire to touch him stirred Sasha to lift her heavy arms, reach out, capture his face. It broke his concentration. His eyes met hers and they stared at each other in dazed wonderment. She pulled his head down and kissed him with all the love and yearning for oneness with the mate of her heart and mind and soul. The uninhibited outpouring of her passion shattered his control. She felt his body start to tremble.