Page 72

He gasped my name, then came with a breathless, guttural cry as I stroked him through climax, spilling his seed onto my breasts. I gave a little moan watching him, ever fascinated by the way he lost control. He let out a long breath and relaxed his grip on my hair, softly stroking it.

After a beat, John pulled me to my feet and kissed me. When we broke apart, I quickly rinsed, then turned off the shower.

“Take me to bed, husband,” I said with a smile.

We did a quick, sloppy drying job with a towel before he led me back into our room, clearly growing impatient. A gentle push, and I lay on my back at the edge of the bed, my legs hanging over the edge.

John lowered himself over me, and I wrapped my legs around his hips.

He breathed in my ear, and I moaned. More wetness bloomed between my legs, leaking onto my innermost thighs.

He fitted his hand to the nape of my neck, lifting my head back to spread slow, open-mouthed kisses down the soft, vulnerable flesh of my throat.

His other hand cupped my breast, lightly pinching my nipple and rolling it between his fingertips.

“Please,” I pleaded, grinding up against him. “John.”

“Shh,” he soothed, his mouth still on my skin. “I’ll give you everything you want, baby. I promise. But it’s our wedding night. Let me love you for a while.”

I gasped as he flicked his tongue over my nipple, then licked in slow, torturous circles until he drew it into his mouth.

He sucked hard, then gently bit down, teasing me with his teeth while his fingers worked my other nipple.

I made high-pitched, desperate noises, beyond self-consciousness.

His eyes roved over my nakedness, from my lips to my breasts, and down to where I was already spread wide for him .

“Please don’t tell me you’re going to spank me now,” I said breathlessly. “I can’t handle more teasing.”

John grinned and shook his head.

“Tonight will be nothing but pleasure for you,” he murmured as he knelt on the floor beside the bed. “You’ll come for me, again and again, until you can’t stand it. I know you like it when I say you’re mine…but tonight, I want to be yours.”

I shuddered as he lifted my legs over his shoulders.

His tongue on my clit was like velvet, soft and gentle, coaxing me to open wider, further.

I gasped, then complied, opening my body as a flower opens to sunlight, then moaned as he licked in slow, methodical circles.

Warmth flooded my limbs, and I tightened in response.

“So good,” he said, exhaling sharply. “Just let yourself feel it.”

I released my muscles, allowing my body to float on a cloud of rising sensation. I gasped as he slipped his fingers inside me, hearing the wet sounds they made as he curled them against me. A deep sigh escaped me as he pressed on it, bringing forth a new rush of pleasure.

John swirled his tongue in tighter circles, pairing it with urgent massaging of my inner wall.

I whimpered at the intensity. He soothed me with love words, urging me to let go, to give myself to him.

I surrendered with a helpless, high-pitched cry.

I came harder than I expected, and my whole body curved to ride a wave of euphoria that crashed over me relentlessly.

When I finally lay there, limp and sated, John kissed my inner thighs and then stood. The floorboards creaked as he walked to the far corner of the room, and I frowned in confusion. He started dragging the antique full-length mirror towards the bed.

“What are you doing?”

“You’ll see,” he answered.

He maneuvered the mirror so that it faced the bed, then sat in front of it. He opened his legs wide, then patted the mattress in front of him. I hesitated, eyeing the mirror, but settled between his legs and let him pull me back against him.

“Spread your legs,” he said against my hair, his gaze meeting mine in the mirror. “Let me see you.”

I swallowed, suddenly nervous. Even though he’d seen me hundreds of times, it felt vulnerable to watch myself do it.

Clearly sensing my hesitation, John kissed my temple .

“It’s alright,” he said softly. “If this is too much, we can stop. But I want to watch you, see your beautiful face as I touch you.”

I giggled nervously. “It feels…dirty.”

A wolfish smile spread across John’s features in the mirror.

“Isn’t that at least part of the appeal?” he asked, nipping my ear. “I want to see my cock buried deep inside you, and I want to watch while I make you mine again for the hundredth time. I want to see how sweetly you come for me again.”

Biting my lip, I slowly spread my legs apart, baring myself to him in the mirror. It was obvious that I was very wet. I flushed self-consciously as John brazenly stared at me, his eyes following the curves of my body in the mirror, drinking me in. When he spoke, his voice was a low growl.

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, Claire. Truly.”

My flush deepened, this time with pleasure. He combed his fingers through my hair and gently inhaled the scent. In the candlelight, the locks reflected red and gold, creating a halo effect.

I gave a soft shudder as his other hand migrated south, settling between my legs. He covered my clit with his palm before sliding two fingers inside me. He pumped his fingers methodically and made a gentle grinding motion against my clit at the same time. I gasped.

“Look at yourself,” John breathed in my ear, his free hand coming up to tilt my chin, so I was forced to look at our reflection. “How breathtaking you are.”

The woman in the mirror was heavily flushed, her eyes bright with anticipation and pleasure, her red hair flowing wild down her chest and back.

She looked love-drunk and wanton, and somehow, that only stoked the flame of my arousal higher.

I shook with pleasure, my entire body rigid as I chased the tempest of sensations further and further towards bliss.

The pressure inside me grew unbearable, especially because I felt him hardening behind me as he watched me in the mirror. His fingers sped up, sliding in and out of me in a deep, steady rhythm, while he moved his thumb to play with my clit.

“Come on,” John coaxed. “Eyes on me, gorgeous. Watch me make you come.”

I met his gaze in the mirror, hard and commanding, and a rush of intense euphoria filled my body. A hoarse cry escaped me, then another, and another, as the pleasure worked its way through every muscle. When it passed, I went limp against him.

“That was a nice one,” he said as he pressed kisses against my shoulder, but his reflection had a wicked glint in its eye. “But I think you can give me more.”

My eyes narrowed. “You’re awfully smug for a guy that’s so hard his dick is like a brand against my back.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Getting mouthy, hmm? Maybe this will help.”

Without warning, he lifted my hips and pulled me backward, pressing the tip of his erection at my entrance.

I gasped as gravity aided me in taking his full length, my buttocks braced against his thighs, and John gave a deep, throaty groan.

He kissed my hair, and his gaze moved to our reflection.

He lowered his hand between my thighs to touch the point of our joining, and I trembled.

“There’s my sweet girl,” John murmured. “Taking me so well.”

Watching him make love to me added another intimate dimension; I loved seeing him revel in our pleasure.

His fingers drifted up from our connection to stroke me, knowing instinctively how to work my clit, still sensitive from orgasm.

His rhythm inside me was slow, deep, and deliciously sensual.

I gave a low moan, which quickly turned into a high-pitched sob as I shattered again.

Pleasure exploded again in my body, spreading all the way to the tips of my fingers and toes, curling them.

“Fucking hell, that hot little cunt pulsing around me,” John growled, his voice uneven. “You feel so damn good, baby. You’re holding me so tight.”

“I need more,” I whimpered. “I don’t know how, but I do.”

His reflection smirked at me. “Good girl. Keep coming on your husband’s cock.”

I didn't even know if I could, but I was a woman possessed, addicted to the way John made me feel, and he was determined to push me to my absolute limit.

I let my hand fall between my thighs, massaging my clit as I lifted and dropped my hips, riding up and down his shaft.

He cursed again and grasped my hips tightly, guiding me.

I came apart once more, unable to stop myself, and yet I was insatiable.

Stimulated past the point of reason, I needed even more.

I increased the pace until I was bouncing eagerly on his lap, my breasts jiggling lewdly in the mirror.

I was beyond caring as the tension broke inside me, and I came hard again, enveloping him with my climax.

As the pleasure ebbed, I fell back against him.

“I can’t take any more,” I gasped out, pleading. “Please let me stop.”

“Thank Christ,” John panted. “I deserve a medal for lasting through that.”

I giggled breathlessly, feeling loose and free in a way I only felt in these intimate moments with the man I loved. My husband.

“Turn around, beautiful,” he murmured after we’d caught our breath. “I want to look at my wife while I make love to her.”

My heart felt fit to burst as I maneuvered into position, straddling his lap and taking him inside again. He looked up at me with pure adoration, and a lump rose unexpectedly in my throat. I tilted his head back and rested my forehead against his, cradling his cheek in my hand.

John sighed, his eyelids falling shut, and I copied him.

We breathed as one, in sync, as I circled my hips over his.

I held his face in my hands and kissed him with languid sweetness, eager to savour him.

He tangled his tongue with mine, one hand twisted in my hair, the other cupping my bottom and urging me on.

A kind of trace overtook us, and we temporarily stepped out of time and space. Only we existed—only the tender need in our kisses, the gentle rhythm of our bodies, and the breath we shared. We who are two would be one.

“Ah, my love,” John whispered, and the spell broke.

He shuddered deeply as he came in hard surges inside me, his arms around me in a death grip. Low, guttural groans came from deep in his chest, and I trailed kisses up his jaw as I watched him unravel. When he finally relaxed, he buried his face in my shoulder.

When he’d recovered, John looked back up at me. Concern touched his eyes as he caressed my wet cheek, slick with tears.

“You okay, baby?” he said, so tenderly that another tear escaped.

“Yes,” I replied, a tremor in my voice. “Just…a little overwhelmed.”

“I know,” he soothed as he wiped away tears with his thumb. “It’s alright, sweetheart. Come with me.”

He led me to the bathroom, and we took another brief shower. He rubbed my shoulders under the warm water, easing tension with his strong farmhand fingers and murmuring endearments meant only for me .

We settled back in bed, and I propped myself up on my elbow at his side, smoothing his hair before stroking the contours of his face with my fingertips.

He gazed up at me, his eyelids growing heavy under my patient attention, and I smiled.

It was rare that he fell asleep first, and I savoured the quiet trust he gave me by letting himself drift.

I sang softly, a French lullaby taught to me by my father so many years before, and his eyes closed.

“What’s it mean?” John mumbled, his words slurred by drowsiness.

I translated roughly, tracing his bottom lip with my thumb.

“ If I am the night, you are the stars .”