“That’s very hard to believe that it can actually be nice.”
“I’m going to make you grin like a loon, make your eyes go vague. Eventually I’ll even let you go to sleep.” He said nothing more, just drew her against him. “Kiss me, Meggie.”
“All right.” When his tongue was in her mouth, when she’d eased, when he knew she was becoming interested in what he was doing, he threw the pillows on the floor and came down beside her. “You’re beautiful,” he said into her mouth. “And you’re mine, Meggie. You will never forget that. No one else’s, mine.”
She gave him a clear look and said, “Of course I’m yours, Thomas, and you are mine. I pray you will not forget that either.”
That warmed him to his toes, then made him cold again, on the outside. Meggie might not love him, but she was loyal. He wanted her loyalty true enough, but he wanted her to love him too, it was just that simple. He wanted everything. Well, damnation.
When her nightgown was on the floor and he was on top of her, kissing his way down the length of her, he knew it would be difficult to keep himself in check, but he wouldn’t allow a repeat of their wedding.
Thomas’s heart was racing, the blood was pumping through him, hot and heavy, and he hurt with urgency. Then he kissed her white belly, feeling her muscles tense, knowing she was excited, knowing that she was ignorant as a post, but was beginning to enjoy herself and wanted to yell with it. He would make her love him, make her want him above all men, above that damned Jeremy, make her yield her soul to him, whisper his name in her dreams. He smiled when he came between her legs, wanting her, wanting her, lifted her in his hands, and gave her his mouth.
Meggie’s brain shut down. Yes, he was actually touching her there, with his mouth, his teeth, his tongue. Then she lifted off the bed, so embarrassed when she tried to yell at him, she could only stutter. She tried to jerk away from him, shoving at his shoulders, yanking on his hair, but he just raised his mouth a bit, looked at her straight in her Sherbrooke eyes, and said, his breath hot against her flesh, “Lie down, Meggie. Close your eyes and let yourself enjoy what I’m doing to you. It’s the done thing, just like the tongues. Relax. I’m your husband. This gives me great pleasure. Don’t deny me my pleasure, Meggie.”
“Oh no, oh goodness, but, Thomas—”
“Be quiet,” he said and blew his hot breath against her.
Meggie lurched up and yelled.
He eased a finger inside her and she yelled again, only this time, he knew she’d shoot him if he stopped. Good, he had her now. He pushed her until—”Come now, Meggie. Just let go. Come along, come to me—”
Meggie didn’t understand what was happening to her, but she knew she’d simply shatter into pieces if anything or anyone tried to stop it happening, whatever it was. She was quaking, stuttering she was so frantic, so maddened by the feelings building and building until—she arched her back, fisted her hands in his hair, and screamed to the beamed ceiling.
He pushed her and pushed her until he felt every bit of tension, every frantic need from deep inside her finally quiet, leaving her utterly limp, utterly his. He gave a shout of satisfaction as he came into her hard, deep and deeper still, and she raised her hips, something that nearly sent him right over the edge. No, he wouldn’t leave her this quickly, it wasn’t fair to either of them. Where had she gotten the energy to want him more? Then he looked down at them, saw himself going deeper inside her, and trembled like a tree branch in a high wind.
Those long legs of hers went around his flanks, and she moaned, and he tried, he truly tried to slow himself, to come out of her a bit until he managed to grab on to just a bit of control, but then he just couldn’t, couldn’t do anything but go forward and he did, touching her womb. Her womb, he was part of her. Oh God. Even then he gritted his teeth, trying desperately to hold himself still, not to move even a small little bit, but it did no good. He went right over the edge when she bit his shoulder, then licked where she’d bitten.