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Patiently, tenderly, he coaxed and caressed her, his tongue flicking at a steady pace, bringing up the pleasure in a powerful surge. She moaned and strained against him, her pelvis tilting upward. A moment of stillness came over her right before the blinding release began, rushing all through her. She twisted, cried out, panted, sobbed, lost to shame in her husband’s arms. After the last faint quivers had faded, she was too dazed to move. His fingers slid from her, leaving her with a strange, empty feeling, the entrance to her body dilated and throbbing.
Moving over her, Gabriel settled between her thighs and slid an arm beneath her neck. “Stay relaxed, sweet,” he whispered. “Just like that.”
Pandora didn’t have a choice—her body was as limp as an empty glove.
He reached down, and she felt a glassy-smooth hardness stroking over her vulnerable opening, circling slowly. Searing-hot, heavy, the blunt tip nudged into the soft cove. He filled her gradually, the pressure enormous and inescapable, and the pain took her breath away as she felt herself being stretched wider than she would have thought possible. Her flesh throbbed sharply around scalding tightness.
Gabriel held still and stared down at her with concern, waiting for her to adjust to him. Smoothing wisps of hair back from her face, he kissed her forehead.
“You don’t have to wait,” Pandora said, closing her eyes against a sudden smart of tears.
She felt the brush of his lips against her eyelids. “I want to,” he whispered. “I want to stay inside you as long as possible. The pleasure you give me . . . it’s like discovering lovemaking for the first time.” He brought her mouth to his in a softly erotic blaze that sent the butterflies whirling in her stomach again. Her muscles clamped convulsively on the hardness inside her, and she felt him push deeper each time. Somehow her body made room for him, yielding to the insistent penetration. It wasn’t quite as painful now, subtle ripples of pleasure rising through the discomfort. He moved with great care, the heat of him pressing astonishingly deep within her, sliding in like silk.
Pandora lifted her arms around his neck, and tilted her head back as he kissed her throat. “What should I do?” she asked breathlessly.
Gabriel let out a quiet groan, his forehead drawn as if he were in pain. “Just hold me,” he said hoarsely. “Keep all the pieces of me together. My God—I’ve never—” He broke off and thrust deep, and shuddered until she felt his rough tremors at her core, and she wrapped her arms and legs around him, holding him with every part of herself.
After a long time, he stopped shivering and collapsed in weary satisfaction, moving partially to the side to keep from crushing her.
Pandora played with the damp locks of his hair at the back of his neck, and traced the neat shape of his ear. “Your lovemaking,” she informed him, “is a gift.”
And she felt the curve of his smile against her shoulder.
Chapter 16
“I’ve never spent so much time in bed,” Pandora said four days later, as late-morning light stole in through a crack in the draperies. “Not even when I was sick.” Other than a handful of outings, such as a walking excursion to view ancient Saxon statues, and taking afternoon tea in the hotel’s outside gardens—they had stayed in the privacy of their suite. “I need to do something productive.”
A lazy masculine arm curved around her front, pulling her back against a hard, furry chest. Gabriel’s voice was like dark velvet against her ear. “I, for one, have been exceptionally productive.”
“I meant something useful.”
“You have been useful.” His palm smoothed over her naked hip.
“Doing what?”
“Satisfying my needs.”
“Not very well, it seems, or I wouldn’t have to keep doing it.” Pandora began to crawl across the mattress as if to escape the bed, and giggled as he pounced on her.
“You do it too well. It makes me want you all the more.” Gabriel settled over her, pinning her in place. His mouth lowered to her shoulder for a brief, soft bite. “You obsess me, with your sweet mouth and clever little hands . . . your beautiful back . . . and legs . . .”
“You need a hobby,” Pandora said severely as she felt his erection against her bottom. “Have you ever tried writing poetry? Building a ship in a bottle?”
“You’re my hobby.” He pressed his lips to the back of her neck, having discovered it was a particularly sensitive place.
Gabriel was a tender and passionate lover, exploring every inch of her with ruthless patience. He taught her about the slow build of anticipation, about the infinite ways to heighten desire. For languid hours he would guide her from one erotic sensation to the next, until she was overcome with shuddering waves of pleasure. At other times, he played rough-and-tumble, teasing her into a state of wildness and satisfying her with deep, powerful thrusts. She was always a little disoriented afterward, euphoric and shaky, but he would hold and caress her until she relaxed into a dreamless sleep. She’d never slept like this in her life, all through the night and late into the morning.
When evening approached, they would order dinner up to their suite. A pair of hotel stewards, both wearing noiseless slippers, would come to the sitting room to cover the round table with spotless white linen, and arrange place settings of china, silver, and crystal. They would set out little bowls of water, each topped with a perfect sprig of lemon verbena, for rinsing one’s fingers between courses. After bringing trays of steaming silver-covered dishes, the stewards would leave to allow them to serve themselves in privacy.