Page 37 of Tempting Mr. Townsend
Except when she moved, discomfort wasn't the result. A lightning jolt of pleasure blasted her, and she cried out in astonishment.
Anthony's smile was smug, as with a hitch of his hips, he touched parts of her she hadn't known existed. The spark ignited into cascading fire. Even as she told herself she couldn't possibly be so wicked, she wriggled again to summon those breathtaking sensations.
His hands tightened, and his lips drew back from his teeth in an expression of fierce delight. “Oh, aye, lass.”
She couldn't complain about the view. Spread beneath her, he looked quite glorious. His olive skin gleamed like satin, and his superb physique showed to advantage against the crumpled white sheets.
“No need to look so pleased with yourself,” she muttered, pressing down to ignite that quaking reaction once more.
“It's your turn to torture me.” He squeezed her breasts, teasing the nipples to aching points until she writhed. With every second, she was less shocked and more curious.
“I don't know what to do,” she confessed, embarrassed.
“Here.” He caught her hips again, lifting her, then bringing her down in a sensual slide that set every nerve in her body alight. At this angle, he filled all of her.
“So I really do ride you?”
Odd how freely she asked the question. In bed with Henry, much as she'd liked what they'd done, she'd always been circumspect. But Anthony Townsend awoke a new Fenella. The new Fenella, despite earlier misgivings, very much liked this variation on mating.
“You really do.”
Experimentally she imitated the movement he'd demonstrated and watched his expression reflect her enjoyment. What had seemed so unacceptable became more natural. With a smothered moan, she began to rise and fall over him, more like waves on the ocean than a rider.
His gaze focused on her bobbing breasts, and the unabashed hunger in his eyes made her feel like a goddess. She'd never imagined she could lead with a lover, dictating pace and rhythm. To her surprise, she liked it.
Daringly, she clenched on the descent. Anthony's groan was long and guttural. “Damnation, you drive me out of my mind.”
She laughed with brazen abandon, and just because she could, tightened again and rolled her hips. He closed his eyes. “You'll kill me.”
“Not yet.” She shook her hair back from where it clung to her heated skin. “I'm not finished with you.”
“Witch,” he whispered, and caught her shoulders, sweeping her under him and thrusting deep.
She bowed up until her breasts crushed into his chest, then gasped as he moved more intently. For what felt like hours, she'd hovered close to shattering. Now craving spiraled higher with each slide of his body.
She dug her nails into his sinewy back and gasped for air. Then for one dizzy second, she balanced on a pinnacle of bright torment. Before in a flash of searing light, she tumbled over into purest ecstasy.
Mindlessly she clung to Anthony as she rocketed through incandescent space. She cried out at the wonder of it all, then again when finally his control broke and he drove into her, flooding her with his hot seed.
After the wild flight reached its breathless end, peace washed over her like a warm sea. Fenella collapsed back upon the bed in exhausted, trembling, joyful satiation.
* * *
Anthony stirred and opened his eyes to darkness. Since he'd plunged into a dreamless sleep with Fenella in his arms, the fire had burned down to embers. Limp and exhausted, she still snuggled against him.
She'd been remarkable, a miracle, beyond his most extravagant fantasies. Now he wanted to do it all again. His cock rose against her belly and he rubbed languorously against her softness. She made a sleepy, incoherent murmur and turned toward him with an immediate trust that touched his soul. She leaned in to brush a kiss over his heart.
He rose over her, kissing her face, then very gently her lips. She gave another bewitching murmur and lifted her knees tocradle him between her thighs. He wasn't even convinced that she was awake, but her willingness was clear.
God knew, he was more than ready.
He slipped his hand down to stroke her. She was wet and hot, and at the touch of his fingers, she gave one of those little hums of pleasure that had so tantalized him last night.
Gradually, savoring every luscious sensation, he slid inside her. When she immediately tightened to bring him closer, his heart dissolved. The urgency that had marked their first explosive union was absent. In its place was a poignant need to cherish. He kissed her again, then started to move with a relentless gentleness that had her sighing in greeting every time he stroked deep. This was like floating on clouds of joy.
He kept up the careful rhythm as long as he could, but eventually, inevitably hunger rose. She quivered on a peak of satisfaction, less tempestuous, but slower and longer than before. He buried his face in her shoulder and groaned as he filled her. This joining was breathtakingly profound, for all the thunder and lightning of their first time.
Anthony sighed and rolled onto his back, shaping her to his side. She murmured again and curled against him, all relaxed, womanly satisfaction. As he idly stroked her tangled hair, he smiled to realize that despite what they'd just shared, she was still closer to asleep than awake.
