Mistletoe Wishes: A Regency Christmas Collection

At her touch, heat blasted him. “This lion wants to eat you,” he growled.

He came down over her, balancing on flattened hands, and bent to kiss her. She met him readily, darting her tongue into his mouth with a daring that set his blood swirling with need.

The craving to slide into her tight velvety passage was overwhelming, but still he reined in his impulses. He wanted her so drunk with arousal when he took her that any pain became merely a fleeting distraction on the road to rapture.

“Can you feel how much I want you?” He brought her hand down. Excitement shuddered through him as she closed her fingers around him.

“I…I want you, too,” she admitted, caressing him as she raised glittering eyes to his. He saw right to the pure depths of her soul. Through a wave of unfamiliar emotion, he offered up a prayer of gratitude to whatever powers had decreed this union.

Her hand flexed, setting off an explosion behind his eyes. For endless excruciating minutes, he bore her ministrations, gritting his teeth to stop himself from driving to culmination. He relished the intense concentration she devoted to his enjoyment. But he was only human, and this tentative, searing torment approached the limit of his endurance.

He caught her hand and glanced a kiss across her knuckles. She was breathtakingly lovely with her creamy skin and drifting cascades of hair. His nostrils flared as he took in her hot scent. Her body told him it wanted him. “It’s my turn to please you, my darling.”

Erskine wasn’t by nature prone to endearments, but something about Philippa made him want to call her every silly fond name he knew. He became completely starry-eyed over his young wife.

“You do,” she admitted in a choked voice.

Deep emotion shone in her eyes. He wasn’t alone in tipping over the edge of physical pleasure into something more profound. He’d had no idea what he’d invited the day he’d offered to marry this woman.

“I will.” He spoke with the same decisive tone that he’d used for his wedding vows. “Let me show you what you’ve got in store for the next fifty years, sweetheart.”

He palmed one round breast, bending his head to take the other nipple between his lips. As he sucked at the beaded peak, she whimpered and slid her hand up his chest. When she sank her nails into his skin, he groaned at the stinging mixture of pleasure and pain.

He raised his head and stared at her. “If you touch me, I’ll lose control, and I need to make sure you enjoy this, darling.”

Her brief uncertainty melted into a smile. “Can I touch you later?”

“Over and over and over.”

“That’s a promise?”

“Yes, it is.” Paradise hovered so close. “Now, lie back and enjoy yourself. You vowed to obey me today.”

“In hindsight, that seems a little rash.”

He smiled, captivated. “Too late, sweeting.”

He caressed and kissed her breasts until she bucked beneath him. Her every wriggle released more alluring scent into the air until he drowned in his wife’s sweetness. She was so sensitive, she was close to shattering, but some selfish element in him wanted to share that final joy.

When she trembled beneath him, hot and feverish, he finally, finally ran his hand across her belly and touched her between her legs. Triumph thundered through him when he found her slick and ready.

Carefully he slid one long finger into her, testing the silky heat, the tight muscles clenching around him. Another finger, gently stretching. She breathed in humid little gasps that fired his need.

He rose over her and parted her legs. “It’s time, my darling wife.”

Her dark eyes held the unconditional trust he’d waited so long to find. Very gradually, he eased into her. She was so primed, possession should be easy, but he’d never taken a virgin before. Somewhere the careless lover had transformed into a man who’d cut off his own balls before he hurt his wife.

He met the barrier of her innocence and paused, gasping for control. She sighed and hooked her hands over his shoulders. “Don’t stop,” she whispered, so low he barely heard her.

This act’s power was unearthly. He’d thought himself a man who knew women. Yet this first night with his wife flung him into radiant, unknown space.

He could wait no longer. He wanted her so much. He tightened his hips and thrust.

She stiffened and whimpered. Her nails dug into his damp, bare skin.

Then on a cry, she arched to meet him, bringing him deeper. In unmistakable welcome, she contracted around him. This time her sigh was long and deep and saturated with enjoyment. She tipped back her head until her breasts brushed his chest. A proud smile teased her lush red lips.

“Oh, my darling,” Erskine choked out and kissed her with the powerful passion that he’d leashed all night.