“Is this mine, too?” she whispered, tracing the veins that pulsed along the length of him.
“Does it please you?” He grit his teeth as she stroked him with both hands.
“Yes. It suits you.”
Justin managed a choked laugh. “How so?”
“It is large, proud, and arrogant.”
“How the devil can a penis be arrogant?”
Sophie looked up at him from beneath long, dark lashes. Her thumb slid over the head of his cock, the journey eased by the drop of semen that collected there. “Look how ready he is. I am not certain he will wait for me.”
“Continue fondling me like that and he might not.”
He began to disrobe, but she did not release him, her fingers caressing him with such gentleness he was amazed he didn’t come. By the time he was bared to her, perspiration covered his skin in a fine sheen and his seed leaked copiously, coating her hands.
“Undress,” he said urgently, tugging his aching ballocks down to stave off an imminent release. He watched in an agony of lust as she removed her stockings, then frowned as she crawled on top of the bed. “The chemise, as well.”
She shook her head. “I would rather wear it.”
“No.” Justin did not intend for the word to come out so harshly, but damn it all, he wanted her naked beneath him. Her skin to his.
Sophie arranged herself like a sensual feast, her lithe body sprawled across the many pillows that piled against his headboard. The last remaining vestige of her attire was so sheer, he could see the shadow of her areolas and the impatient thrust of erect nipples. Between her legs a dark triangle lured him, enticed him. But it was not enough.
“You deny me?” He frowned, hating the material that separated him from his deepest desire.
The fingers of her right hand fidgeted with the lace that framed the neckline. “I am not young. And I have had a child. In this instance, I believe wondering is better than knowing.”
Sophie knew the moment understanding dawned. Fontaine’s eyes widened and he stilled, taking stock before acting, as was his way. She leapt before looking. He looked before leaping. It was one of the many things she appreciated about him.
She watched him move to the bed, eyeing his powerful masculine beauty with hunger and infatuation. He was so lean, yet muscular. Perfect. Everything about him was perfect. And she was so imperfect.
He took a seat on the edge of the bed, and cradled one of her hands within his own. “I am grateful for your beauty,” he murmured. “It arouses and amazes me.” His mouth curved in a slow smile. “But I adored you when you were gangly.”
“I was never gangly!”
“You were.” His smile widened into a grin. “No breasts or hips. Just tall and reed-thin. And I adored you. I adored you with mud on your face and food on your chin and twigs in your hair.”
“I never had food on my chin!”
“You did.” He crawled over her, his knees resting on either side of her hips, his cock right where she wanted it…if only he would lower his body six inches or so. “It is you who captivates me, love. Your impulsiveness, your vitality, your lust for life. You have no fear. You see what you desire and grab it with both hands. I admire those qualities about you because I lack them myself. I am overly cautious and sometimes take too long to act, a fault that has cost me dearly.”
Her hand lifted to cover her mouth and hide the trembling of her lips. She knew he referred to losing her to Langley and her heart ached. She made it a point to regret nothing in her life. If she proceeded with an action, it was because she was decided. But she regretted having caused him pain, even though she had done so unwittingly.
“So you see,” he continued, collecting the hem of her chemise and tugging it upward, “while I am thoroughly smitten with your exterior, it is your interior that won my deeper regard.”
Sophie arrested his movements with her hands over his. He met her gaze squarely, his brows lifted in silent challenge. She knew that look well, and it made her smile. She took a moment to marvel over how comfortable she felt with him, as if they had been lovers forever, then said, “Allow me.”
With her heart full, she sat up and pulled her chemise over her head. It was not as easy as she would hope, her insecurity around the marquess a lifetime habit. The change in position put their torsos in close proximity, and she shivered slightly as she felt the heat of his skin. Releasing a deep breath, she settled back against the pillows and lifted her chin.
His gaze was so hot it made her perspire. Her eyes closed as Justin touched her stomach just above her pelvic bone. She did not have to look to know he followed the mark left by her pregnancy. The mattress dipped and swayed as he moved away from her, and her eyes burned at the unbearable intimacy. A moment later she jerked in surprise when his open mouth pressed to the spot, then moved upward, his tongue slipping into her navel. One hair-dusted leg hooked over hers and tugged it aside, opening her thighs to his avid touch.
“Justin!” she gasped, arching as he parted her and stroked her with his fingertips.
His mouth moved to her breast, brushing along the side, kissing the faint marks that marred the under curve. “Christ, you are so beautiful.”
Her arms lifted, embracing him, as he found her nipple and engulfed it, suckling strongly. A callused fingertip circled her clitoris, then dipped lower to slip inside her. She cried out and bowed upward, straining, her body echoing the contractions of his mouth around his plunging finger. Aroused by his praise and gentle ministrations, Sophie felt herself softening, opening, becoming slick with welcome so that every thrust of his hand sounded wetly in the room.
Lifting his head, Justin watched her, giving her no room to hide. His skin was flushed, his eyes fever-bright, his lips parted with harsh, panting breaths.
“I used to imagine you like this,” he confessed in a husky whisper, withdrawing from her depths, only to return with two fingers. Stroking along her inner walls, rubbing, caressing, making her writhe. Her nails dug into his forearms, her nipples peaked hard and painfully tight.
He kissed her, absorbing her cries into the heat of his mouth. “If you open your legs wider,” he whispered, “I can fuck you deeper.”
His crude wording first startled her, then inflamed her. Squeezing her eyes shut, she spread her thighs shamelessly, hungrily accepting the deluge of sensation after the last few years of numbness.
“No, look at me,” he murmured, his throbbing erection a hard pressure against her leg. “Let me watch you.”
Sophie relented, unable and unwilling to deny him, feeling safe with him in a way that made such sharing possible. Her eyes locked onto his, her body quivered against his, her gasps mingled with his, until she cried out. Falling into orgasm with a hot rush of tears. Clinging to his big, hard body with all her strength. Grateful he was with her, just as she had always been grateful when he was at her side.
“Justin,” she whimpered, rubbing her tearstained cheek against his. “Darling Justin.”
He came over her, the ripples of his abdomen glistening in the candlelight, the muscles in his arms flexing as he held his weight aloft. “Put me inside you,” he rasped, his chest heaving as if he had run a great distance.
Touching his lips with the fingertips of one hand, she reached down with the other and positioned him. His breath blew hot against her skin as he rolled his hips and eased into her.
She tensed as he breached her, her lungs seizing as the first thick inches spread her wide.
“Hush,” he murmured, freeing one hand to stroke down her side. Reaching beneath her thigh, he pulled it up, anchoring it on his hip so that the pressure lessened. “You were made to hold me.”
He settled more of his weight on top of her, pinning her down, forcing her to accept his leisurely pace.
Senses that had been dazed by her recent climax, flared to renewed life. “Please,” she begged, squirming. “Please hurry.”