Page 62 of Love Unraveled
“Non.” He stood and stroked himself, watching her watch him. “I am far too anxious,” he said, letting go of his member before it could burst prematurely. “May I join you?”
“Mais oui,” she said, inching forward so he could slip in behind her.
They both laughed like the young lovers they once were as he awkwardly climbed into the tub, almost falling backward before he managed to settle. He wrapped his arms around her waist and tugged her close, her soft flesh warm against his length, which twitched merrily in response.
“I had forgotten it did that,” Sophie said, giggling.
“Macoquette.” He kissed the top of her head. They had only made love once, but they had tentatively explored each other’s bodies long before that night. The memories of those innocent times made him smile. He let his fingers creep across her stomach and tease the top of her mound.
“Non,” she said, grabbing his hand and setting it on the side of the tub. “I have had my turn. It is yours.”
Sophie shimmied along the large tub and turned onto her knees. Water ran off her breasts. He wanted to lick those drops before they fell, but when he went to move, Sophie arched an eyebrow in warning. He chuckled and sat back against the tub, resisting the urge to reach into the water and once again pull at himself.
“Put your foot on the edge of the tub,” she instructed as she lathered the small cake of soap.
She started with his toes, her touch gentle and methodical, as she kneaded each one and the arch of his foot. A slight smile played at the corner of her lips, but she was focused and did not look his way. He relaxed as her thumb massaged the muscles of his calf. His erection became less demanding, so he closed his eyes and got lost in the simple sensations. Until her hand swept his inner thigh. Then it went back on full alert.
Sophie got tantalizingly closer with each sweep. Her fingers, finally, lightly brushed his sacs. After several repeats of the movement, he squirmed and tried to pull her close, but she sat back on her heels, out of reach.
“Tsk. I did not interfere with you.” Her chastisement was contradicted by her knowing smirk.
She set his leg back in the water, lifted the other one, and repeated her administrations. When she gently cupped his sacs, they grew so tight he was sure they would burst. He groaned as she ran a finger along his length, and her smile grew. She grabbed him firmly and pumped several times. He sat up abruptly, and she splashed backward, startled and unsure.
Gaston grabbed Sophie’s hand and kissed it. “I have not waited sixteen years to spend myself in the tub,mon amour.”
He stood carefully and swung one leg out onto solid ground. Once he was out, he helped her from the tub. Gaston loved how Sophie stood unabashed as he dried her before quickly drying himself. He tossed the linen on the floor and held out his hand.
“Come,” he said softly. “Let us finalize our wedding vows. Let the love from my heart flow through my body and into yours.”
Chapter Forty-Six
Here is the golden close of love,
All my wooing is done.
—Alfred Lord Tennyson, “Marriage Morning”
Sophia considered pinchingherself, for surely she was dreaming. Mere weeks ago, she’d thought Gaston was lost to her forever. Now he was leading her to her bed, as her husband. For, legal or not, she had meant her vow. It wasincroyable.
He paused and turned to kiss her, his full length pressed rigidly against her. It should be awkward, this blatant nakedness between them, but it was not. It was as it should be, as it always should have been. There was nothing standing between them now. She swayed her hips, making sure their contact was as stimulating for him as it was for her, and he groaned into her mouth.
She lightly nipped his lip and let go of his hand. She placed one knee on the bed and pulled herself up. She glanced over her shoulder to ensure she had his attention. It would seem it was undivided, so she crawled slowly across the coverlet to where Cara had turned down the bedding, and repositioned herself so she was kneeling at the edge of the mattress.
“Come, husband. Let me bring you pleasure.”
Gaston visibly swallowed but did as commanded.
“Closer,” she said, gripping his buttocks and pulling him snug to the bed. She ran her tongue along his length, circling the tip before returning to his base. She repeated her foray, looking up from time to time to see his face. His lips drawn tight, his nostrils flaring, he was watching her administrations. Power flowed through her, and she decided to take him into her mouth as he had her, but he pulled away.
“Non, Sophie. It is bed sport for another day.”
Gaston lifted her chin, and their gazes met. Heat pooled at the look in his eyes. She sat back on her haunches, eyeing his erection, the evidence of how close he was to spending glistening in the candlelight. She was in perfect accord. She did not want this night to end too quickly, but nor did she want it to end before the pleasure of their joining.
Sophia rolled onto her back and patted the empty space beside her in invitation. Gaston crawled onto the bed, and his gaze swept the length of her body.
“Mon Dieu,” he whispered. “You are a Titian Venus.Non, much more,” he said, shaking his head slowly. “He never had a subject such as you. If he had, he would never have painted again. You are perfection.”
Tears misted her view of Gaston. It was not that she doubted her looks; it was more she worried they would no longer be enough. For he had seen her in the bloom of youth and might have had illusions she remained unchanged. He kissed her stomach, and butterflies swirled and danced beneath his lips.
