She nodded; she couldn’t do more.
“Would you like me to come in your mouth?”
She shook her head, wanting him inside her.
His voice went soft. “Are you refusing me?” And he pushed in further, moving one hand to the back of her head to hold her in place.
She growled, a low, moody sound that vibrated along his turgid length as though in warning. Then she bit him. Not hard, but enough to gain his attention before pulling away.
“Are you refusing me?” he asked again, not in play this time, his voice oddly constrained.
She sat back on her heels, a ravishing surge of lust streaking upward with her heels pressing into her bottom. “I’m as selfish as you,” she said on a caught breath. “And dying for you. You please me now.”
“Why should I?” He smiled faintly. “If I’m your master and you’re my houri.”
Her green eyes were dark with passion, the rubies and pearls glittering bright. “You must do it for love,” she said.
He hesitated, gazing down at the lush woman at his feet-his wife… strange, strange word. “For love,” he murmured, uncertainty echoing in his words.
“If you oblige me, I might be induced to obey your orders on occasion as well.”
He grinned; the Caro he knew had spoken. “If it’s worth your while, you mean.”
“You might find it worth your while to look for those hidden jewels. Have you thought of that?”
“You always were a little hussy,” he murmured, intrigued and perhaps more remarkably, willing to defer to her. Bending down, he lifted her into his arms. “Very well, la duchesse mine, let’s see what you’re hiding from me.”
She savored the beauty of the word, mine, feeling as though she was part of Simon somehow, as though she was no longer alone. And whether he knew or whether she fully knew what the future would bring, she was happy. She purred low in her throat from sheer joy and also from the luscious pressure of the jewels inside her. With her legs draped over her husband’s arm and the slight jarring movement from his stride, enchantment was taking on another more tangible form.
If not aware of his wife’s affectionate musing, Simon understood the physical manifestations that elicited that purr. “Maybe I should just walk around the room while you come.”
Her gaze was heated. “What a marvelous idea.”
“If I was grossly magnanimous, I might, but I’m as selfish as you.”
“A fact well known in the world at large.”
“One can only hope your selfishness isn’t as well know as mine.”
“If I wasn’t so attuned to my sexual desires, I might take issue with your male double standard.”
“But since you are…”
“And you as well.”
“We’ll fight later,” he said with a grin, gently placing her on the bed. “Now do I get my prize?”
She patted the bed and the bracelets on her wrist glittered and sparkled.
But he didn’t lie down beside her. He moved her legs enough so he could sit cross-legged between them, his knees brushing her thighs, the light-weight foretaste of his strength and power. But he touched her mons with a delicate brushing stroke. “Do I have to guess, or may I look?”
“Guess.”
“Not the pearl necklace.” He tapped the rope of pearls wrapped around her waist. “And it looks as though a great many rubies are accounted for.” Leaning forward, he ran his palms over her throat and breasts, then down her arms so she felt the metal settings sink marginally into her flesh. “But there were some diamonds weren’t there?” he said, softly, “with pearls…”
“Maybe.”
“And if I were to press here, just a little,” he placed his palm on her pouty vulva. “Would you feel that?”
It took her a moment to respond, for the strumming pleasure to calm enough for her to speak. “You’re an excellent husband.”
“How excellent?” he whispered, increasing the pressure of his hand.
She moaned softly and lifted her arms to him.
“Do you want me inside there, too?”
She hesitated briefly and then nodded.
“Are you sure?” The words were heated, bluntly sexual and perhaps not a question after all.
“Does it matter what I say?” She’d heard the surety in his voice.
“Maybe,” he murmured. “Let me know.” Spreading her thighs wider with a gentle nudging touch, he moved between her legs with a fluid grace, readying himself to enter her.
She watched his muscles coil and flex as he shifted his weight, his lithe power always a flagrant aphrodisiac-like his sexual talents. And she felt a renewed glow of happiness quite apart from the heat of passion scorching her senses. He was hers by some curious act of fate-at least now, this moment, she more practically reflected. Curling her arms around his neck, she ran her hands over his muscled shoulders and waited, aching and fevered.
He was fairly certain what was inside her, but preferred erring on the side of caution. Gore had liked the pearl and diamond bracelet enough to call his attention to it. He should fit if it was the pearls.
But he slipped a finger inside her first, just to be sure. This was his wedding night, after all. He intended to be up all night and for that, he’d want his wife unscathed.
“Pearls,” he whispered, touching the bracelet that was strung with small diamonds separating the pearls. Looking up, he smiled at Caro. “We should manage with those. They’re small.”
“Soon, I hope,” she murmured, trembling at his touch.
“Yes, dear, your servant, dear.” His voice was low, his finger running the length of the bracelet, smoothing it straight along the length of her vagina. “Stop me anytime,” he whispered, beginning to enter her, holding one end of the bracelet at the very entrance to her sleek passage. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
He moved forward slowly, the pressure of his penis forcing each pearl into his flesh and hers, the unreeling friction curling with tantalizing rapture through their heated senses one pearl at a time until he was lodged deep within her body.
“I’m moving back now.” The pressure was so acute, he felt she needed warning.
“No, no…” She clutched at him. “Stay.”
He did for a lengthy interval while she panted in little delirious inhalations and then he moved back just a fraction while she shuddered in his arms.
“Oh, God…”
Understanding that particular heated supplication, he moved marginally again and then once again, settling into a rhythm of limited penetration and withdrawal that took all his considerable restraint to maintain.
The first time Caro climaxed, she said, “Thank you,” afterward with such breathless charm he was reminded of a young girl he once knew. And when she said, “More,” brief moments later, he was reminded of a young lady he once knew. Perhaps he was in a particularly generous mood, because he even disregarded her fretful insistence when she clutched at his shoulders the next time and said, “Right now, damn it,” like some spoiled bitch.
She was, after all, his darling little bitch.
After she climaxed numerous times, he finally gauged his hot-blooded wife sufficiently satisfied and withdrew for his own long delayed orgasm.
But as he pulled out of her jeweled interior, her eyes flew open. “What are you doing?”
It was impossible to speak, his orgasm already rushing downward.
She pounded on his chest in outrage.
But he only tightened his grip on her arms and held her down, his surging, shuddering climax impossible to staunch, all sensation centered in the fevered, orgasmic deluge. He poured his long-contained semen in spurting, gushing jets onto her stomach, gasping at each gut-wrenching spasm, heedless to all but consummation and lust. Until lengthy moments later, completely drained, panting, he slowly opened his eyes to meet her furious gaze.