Page 121 of The Saxon Lord's Unwanted Bride
Then a hot mouth covered one breast, and a pulse of longing shot through her. She cried out as his teeth grazed her nipple, then his tongue swept across the little bud to soothe the nip of pain, which only made her want more. Teasing, stroking, he nuzzled and suckled, sending spirals of desire through her.
Then he gave her other breast the same loving attention. Tender caresses, gentle nips, sent ripples of exquisite pleasure through her which rendered her immobile, boneless, completely at his mercy. His words of love conquered each pulse of fear, and her heart swelled at the sight of his blond locks caressing her skin. His lips traced a path across her chest to her belly where the child lay within.
A small movement inside her brought forth a cry from his throat, and he lifted his head to meet her gaze, gentle brown eyes glistening with moisture. With his fingertips, he traced a path across her belly, then gasped with wonder, as their child moved once more.
“My love,” he whispered, dipping his head to kiss her belly. “Never did I think I what joy it would give me, to see your belly grown large with my child.”
He lay his head on her stomach and gave a sigh of contentment. He reached out his hand, and she took it. He placed a kiss on her belly, then he moved lower, resuming his path toward her center.
Soft lips brushed against the top of her thighs—so close to the source of her need. She shifted her thighs apart to ease the ache of longing. He gave a low growl of approval, then dipped his head lower, his body shuddering against hers.
A sweet aroma drifted in the air, soft overtones followed by spicy, musky base notes—her own need combined with his, a heady primal perfume. Her back arched involuntarily.
“Harald…”
He let out a deep sigh, a loving whisper to caress her sensitive flesh, heightening her need, and she shifted her legs apart. Wanting something yet not understanding what, she listened to the language of her body, letting it ask of him what words could not express.
His answer came in a long lingering kiss—his tongue probed gently, lovingly teasing her, not easing the ache, but drawing it out, until it burst inside her.
“Oh—Harald!”
The bed shifted and his large, warm body engulfed her. He caressed her once more, stopping to finger the lumps and bumps of misshapen flesh covering the deformed bones of her arm. Moisture splashed onto her arm and she looked up to see him, head bowed in reverence. His lips traced the silver and purple lines of the scars which would mark her until the day she died.
She tried to withdraw, but he held her firm. Another tear splashed onto her skin.
“Oh Eloise!” he cried.
“Shed no tears for me, my love,” she whispered.
He lifted his head, his brown eyes red-rimmed.
“I would shed tears for you,” he said. “For if not I, then who?” He covered her mouth with his, and she tasted her own desire on him. Then she felt him, hot and hard—his manhood rigid against her thigh, pulsing against her skin with every rise and fall of his chest.
A groan of need rumbled in his chest but he made no move to take her. She reached down and took him in her hand.
“No, Eloise,” he groaned. “I’ll not be able to contain myself if you torment me so.”
“Then let me ease your torment.”
He shook his head. “I would crush you—and our child.”
He rolled onto his back and closed his eyes, brow furrowed, as if in pain, hands fisted at his sides. Yet his manhood stood proud and erect. She crawled over to him and straddled his body. Then she took his hands and rocked her body forward. A sigh of pleasure escaped her as his member brushed against her center.
She eased herself lower, until he was fully inside her, letting her body accommodate him.
“Oh, Eloise—were you sent to torture me?”
“Nay, husband,” she said. “I was sent to love you—and to be made whole by you.”
She leaned forward, as far as her belly would allow, and caressed his lips with her own. Then she moved, back and forth—slowly at first, then she increased the pace. Little growls of pleasure rumbled and shuddered through him with every stroke.
Tilted her head back, all thoughts abandoned her save one—the love she bore the man beneath her, and the need to give him pleasure.
Her body soared towards the sun and stars, then she crested the wave and plunged over the waterfall with a lingering, shuddering cry. He roared out her name and their voices echoed through the walls of Wildstorm—their home.
A strong pair of arms swept her into a loving embrace, and she opened her eyes to see the love he bore her mirrored in his warm, brown gaze.
He placed a hand on her belly, and caressed her skin with his thumb.
