Page 73 of The Secret Bride
He kissed the newly freed nipple, giving it the same devoted attention. His free hand came up to cradle the breast he’d just abandoned, his thumb stroking the wet, sensitive skin he’d just worshipped.
“You’re perfect,” he breathed against my skin, looking up at me. His eyes were fixed on my chest, on the way my breasts moved with each ragged breath I took. “So beautiful.”
He began to walk, still holding me aloft, my legs locked around him. He carried me from the wall to the bed, his steps measured and sure. When we reached the edge, he lowered me gently onto the soft duvet, my back sinking into the mattress. He followed me down, his body covering mine, his mouth returning to my breasts as he settled beside me.
But he didn’t stay there long. He kissed a path down my sternum, his lips soft and warm. He traced the curve of my ribs, then dipped lower to my stomach. His tongue swirled in the dip of my navel, and I squirmed, a laugh mixing with a moan.
Then he rose.
He stood beside the bed, looking down at me. I lay there, my dress bunched at my waist, my breasts bare and heaving, my hair spread across the pillows. His gaze was possessive, worshipful,hot. He reached for the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head in one swift motion.
My eyes drank him in. The broad shoulders, the sculpted chest, the flat stomach. He was beautiful. Powerful.
His hands returned to me. He grasped the silk at my waist and pushed it downward, peeling the dress away from my hips, my thighs, until it slipped free and joined the bra on the floor. Now I wore only my panties—simple, white cotton.
He knelt between my legs on the bed. His eyes locked on the thin fabric covering my last secret. His hands settled on my inner thighs, stroking upwards.
“These are mine too,” he said, his voice low and final.
His fingers hooked into the sides of the panties. Instead of sliding them down, he pulled. The cotton tore with a softrip, rending apart and leaving me completely exposed to him.
I gasped, shocked by the suddenness, by the deliberate destruction. It felt like a symbol. There would be no barriers left. Nothing between us.
He didn’t speak. He simply looked. His gaze traveled over my naked body, lingering on my breasts, then moving lower to where I lay open to him. I was breathing heavily, my chest flushing pink, my nipples stiff and aching.
Then he bent forward.
He didn’t touch me with his hands first. He simply lowered his head and kissed methere.
A soft, closed-mouth kiss right on my center. It was so tender, so unexpected, that tears pricked my eyes.
Then his mouth opened. His tongue emerged, tasting me lightly. A slow, exploratory stroke from bottom to top.
I cried out, my hips lifting off the bed involuntarily.
He hummed again, the sound vibrating through my most sensitive flesh. Then he began to work. His tongue moved in firm, deliberate circles, tracing my shape, dipping into my folds, seeking out every responsive spot. His lips suckled gently. One of his hands came up to rest on my lower belly, holding me steady, while the other found one of my breasts again, his thumb brushing over my nipple in rhythm with the movements of his mouth.
It was overwhelming. The dual sensations—the wet, hot, focused attention below and the teasing, rhythmic pleasure above—coalesced into a building storm inside me. My moans became constant, a messy, pleading stream of sound. I was arching off the bed, my hands fisting in the duvet, my legs spreading wider to give him more access.
“Please…” I whimpered, not knowing what I was asking for.
He knew. He increased his pace, his tongue flicking faster, his suction becoming more deliberate. He found a particular spot and concentrated there, lavishing it with attention until mywhole body was trembling, until the storm was cresting, ready to break.
I was about to come. The tension was coiled tight, ready to snap.
He lifted his head.
His face was wet, his lips glistening. He looked at me, his eyes blazing with triumph and desire. “Not yet,” he whispered. “Not like this.”
He stood up again, swiftly. His hands went to his belt. He unbuckled it, the sound loud in the quiet room. He unbuttoned his trousers, pushed them down, along with his briefs. They fell to the floor.
He was fully exposed now. And he was… magnificent. Thick, long, fully erect. My eyes widened. A flutter of nervous excitement—and a tinge of fear—tightened in my stomach.
He saw my look. He came back to the bed, kneeling over me again, his body hovering above mine. He kissed my mouth softly, swallowing my gasp.
“Don’t worry,” he said, his voice absolute. “I will be gentle.”
He kissed me again, deeper this time, his tongue mingling with mine. Then he shifted his position, settling between my legs. His hand guided himself, placing his length at my entrance. He was hot, so hot, against my sensitive skin.
