Lucien(43)

Luc slipped inside another inch and sucked in a sharp breath. “I want it to last, but… ah, I can’t wait.” He claimed her mouth and prayed he wouldn’t hurt her. She was so damn tight and he was damn near to exploding.



“Luc, please,” she begged against his mouth. “Show me.”



“Yes,” he breathed, sliding back and forth slowly, gently.



She clawed at his shoulders. “No, don’t leave.”



He was beyond speech and, lifting his hips, reared back against the tensing slickness of her silky muscles, then slid deep inside her. Damn. Damn. Damn.



Elise stiffened underneath him, her nails biting into his shoulder. The pounding of her heart twitching in the muscles holding him deep within her.



His forearms shook, but he froze. “Elise,” he asked, his voice cracking with the strain of not moving. Sweat trickled down the center of his back and his hips nearly jerked in response.



Slowly, painfully slow, he felt her body relax to his presence. “Kiss me,” she whispered. He did and was amazed at the transformation in her lithe, little body underneath him. Hesitantly at first she touched him, moving her hips against him, tormenting him with tiny flutters of her inner muscles. It wouldn’t take much longer and he’d fall over the edge without her. He slithered his hand in between them and down to tease her into meeting his need.



“Mmm, yes. Please,” she begged against his mouth.



Luc groaned then moved, tentatively at first, then more strongly. She was hot, wet, and slick for him. Her clinging warmth surrounding him in the secure folds of her loving as they rocked easily, back and forth. Tiny claws pressed into his calves, her legs wrapping around him and urging him deeper inside her.



He strained to hear the soft cries which would end both of their torments. She gasped and arched into him, grasping at his shoulders, trembling in his arms. His eyes opened and he watched her face as the first tremors rippled around him, convulsing and kneading.



“Lucien,” she screamed, then shimmered and shattered around him. Gripping her hips, he drove into her, giving himself up to the binding, white hot release, then followed her into paradise with her name on his lips.



Luc collapsed, dropping his head into the crook of her neck and shoulder, and gasped for his next breath, drawing her scent in with every breath. Jumbled fragments of rational thought skipped through his mind and he gave up trying to organize them. Logical and brilliant thoughts after the best sex of his life was inconceivable. He was lucky he was still alive to feel his wife’s breasts crushed against his chest and her nails tracing idle patterns along his back.



“Tell me I’m awake and that wasn’t a dream.”



Luc smiled and kissed her shoulder, then raised his head to do the same to her luscious mouth. “Darlin’, that was no dream.”



Elise sighed with a tremulous smile. “That explains why it was so much better.”



He chuckled and braced himself on one elbow to brush back a wisp of hair from her cheek. Concern and tenderness welled up inside him and his amusement faded. “Elise?”



“Hmm?”



“You were a virgin.”



“Yes, but no longer,” she replied sleepily.



Luc sighed and slid out of her. She was exhausted. His questions could wait until later. He rolled off her and sat up. She was a mess, a glorious mess. Hair splayed across the pillow, her eyes closed, and a sweet smile played at the corners of her mouth. He stood and pulled down the covers, then lifted her to put her under the blankets.



He took one look down at himself, then at her and went into the bathroom for a hot washcloth. He gently cleaned her, then attended to himself and slid into bed next to her.



Luc gathered her close and pressed a kiss to her forehead which was rewarded with a contended sigh. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”



Elise pillowed her head on his chest, draped her hand across his waist, and they both were asleep in a matter of seconds.





CHAPTER ELEVEN




Elise stretched luxuriously underneath the blanket. She felt gloriously relaxed and warm with Luc’s body curved around her backside in spoon-fashion. Muscles she hadn’t known existed ached in a way which could only be described as pleasurable pain. Opening her eyes, she glanced at the clock.



Seven-thirty. Ah, well, all good things must come to an end. She pushed back the covers and started to lift his arm which was draped over her waist.



“Stay,” he murmured, dragging her back against him. “You feel too good to let go.” He buried his face in the crook of her neck and she snuggled closer, hugging his arm across her stomach and pillowing her head on the arm under her cheek.