Page 89 of A Whisper of Desire
“We will have a wonderful life together, you and I, and I will cherish every day of it with you by my side.”
She threw her arms around his neck and he rocked her slowly until his knees began to really hurt.
He pulled her up. “Go to bed. I will have to help Clarence. The magistrate will have to be called and then we will have to come up with something to tell the girls in the morning.” Sadness for their loss engulfed him, but if their mother were going mad from her disease, at least they would be spared that. That’s the only reason he could believe as to why Priscilla would try to kill Marisa.
The girls were now parentless, but as their guardian he’d ensure the girls never found out about what their mother had tried to do. They would see if it could be declared an accident. If her disease had begun to take hold and that is what made her do such a mad thing, he’d protect her memory from anyone knowing.
—
It was close to dawn when he slipped into Marisa’s bed. She was fast asleep, curled on her side, her dark tresses spilling over the pillow and her face radiant in the early-morning light, making her look so young. His heart clenched in his chest. She was beautiful.
He ran a finger over her cheek. He hated how hurt she was at losing the ability to have children. He vowed to God that he would ensure her life was always happy.
She stirred and her eyes flickered open. “Have you only just made it to bed?” He nodded. “You must be exhausted.”
He snuggled closer, pushing his hips against her, showing her he was anything but tired. “I love you,” he whispered.
“I love you,” she said back, rubbing against him. “Make love to me.” And typically, she pulled her night rail over her head before he could do anything. “I’ve missed making love with you.”
He looked at the love shining out of her eyes and felt as raw and uncertain as a boy with his first love. She was his first love, for she made him forget anyone who’d come before her.
He groaned, not from pleasure but from his heart twisting in his chest. She would have let him divorce her if he’d wanted to. She loved him that much. He didn’t deserve such love.
She must have seen a look that allowed her to read his thoughts, for she kissed him tenderly, letting her warm mouth linger against his as she ran her hands over his naked chest. He drank in her kisses and returned her caresses with increasing need.
“Are you sure you are fully healed?”
She rose up and urged him to lie back. “No, I’m not sure. But we can still give each other pleasure.”
“I don’t want pleasure if it will hurt you or because you feel guilty.” Was the fact she couldn’t give him children going to change how she treated him? He didn’t want pity sex. He wanted the wild siren that usually demanded everything of him in bed.
“Silly. Your pleasure is my pleasure. You should know that by now. I love watching you. I love making you lose control.”
She pushed on his chest again, and he lay back, happy to let his siren take the lead as usual.
She drew the covers back and knelt over him, looking him over with such longing his member grew even harder. Pressing her lips against his bare chest, she kissed his entire body, slowly, deliberately sweeping her hair over him as she moved lower.
It had been so many weeks since he’d experienced her sensual touch that he began to tremble. This was likely to be over very quickly if he didn’t rein in his desire.
Her caresses felt like silk, every nerve ending was on fire. Her touch wasn’t hesitant but was filled with poignancy and was incredibly erotic at the same time.
He jerked when Marisa swirled her tongue over the sensitive area of his inner thighs. Her lips teased him, hovering over his erection, he could feel her hot breath on his tip, and he groaned.
His hips rose on their own accord as she attended him, licking, stroking, driving him out of his mind. When she took him fully into her mouth he cried out, such was the pleasure. He rose up on his elbows so he could watch her love him with her mouth. The sight of him sliding between her sweet lips had his sacs drawing taut. He wouldn’t last long.
He sat up and pulled her round so she was straddling him backward. He positioned her over his face, and as she suckled him deep into her throat, he lapped at her nectar, stroking between her wet folds, finding her little bud. His fingers entered her while he pleasured her with his tongue. Her moans vibrated down the length of him as she sucked harder, took him deeper.
Their cries grew, and he couldn’t help driving up into her mouth while his tongue lapped faster. This was heaven. His heart pounded in a wild rhythm. He could feel the desperate longing screaming from both of them.
They pleasured each other with fierce tenderness, the pain of loss forgotten, as the firestorm overcame them. They moved together, faster and faster, each suckling the other, using their mouths to give the other pleasure.
Her inner muscles clamped around his fingers, he felt her shudders, and he shattered. They came together, cresting the swells of pleasure that seemed to plow through them over and over.
When finally the rapture diminished, Marisa clambered over him to lie, trembling, in Maitland’s arms. She lay against his warm, powerful body, listening to the force of his thundering heart.
He loved her.
The truth was in his touch, his voice, his eyes, and she placed her hand on his chest, his heart.
