Emme's hands stroked over his sweat-slicked skin, reveling in the pleasure that he had given her. Tremors wracked her body and each one elicited an answering shudder from him. She noted that he was careful of her, holding his weight on his forearms above her. He kissed her, gently, sweetly before withdrawing from her. He rolled to his back and pulled her with him so that her head was pillowed on his chest, and his heart still thundered beneath her ear. In moments they were both fast asleep, replete and sated.
Rhys awoke in the hours before dawn, his new wife tucked against his chest. His body stirred but he ignored the burgeoning desire. He had tried to be gentle, but he knew that she would be sore. He had known that she would be passionate, that they would find pleasure with one another. The extent of that pleasure had been beyond anything he had ever encountered. Ignoring the response of his body at the memory of their lovemaking, he contented himself with holding her, feeling the weight of her against him in the darkness.
When light began to filter through the windows Emme stirred, turning to face him so that her lush, tempting breasts were pressed against his chest. He stifled a groan as his member hardened without deference to his good intentions. Rather than continue to tempt fate, he extricated himself from the tangle of her glorious hair and slumberous limbs. She had moved at one point during the night, with the intention of going back to her own chamber. He had unceremoniously pulled her back into the bed with him. He liked having her there.
The fire had died down and the chill of the room helped to curb his libido. Heedless of his nudity, he strode to the hearth and stoked the embers back to life, adding another log to the fire. When he turned his wife was sitting up in bed, the sheet pulled up over her breasts and her hair wild about her. She was looking at him curiously.
"Yes?” he queried.
"I realized that you have a very unfair advantage,” she said, her smile as tempting as any courtesan's. Soft and coquettish, it shaped her divine mouth in such a way that it could do little but stir carnal desires.
"And what is that?” he asked, desire deepening the timbre of his voice.
"You know what I look like everywhere and I barely had time to look at you at all."
God preserve him, he thought, as his good intentions fled entirely. He rose, poker stiff and eager to show her. Her eyes took in every detail as he walked back to the bed in the weak morning light.
He was magnificent, Emme thought. There was not an ounce of spare flesh on him. He was all muscle over bone—broad of chest and shoulder, long limbed, with powerful thighs and lean hips.
She eyed his sex with a mixture of curiosity and embarrassment. It grew larger beneath her gaze. “May I touch you?"
He would have begged, he thought, and she was asking permission. “Yes,” he said simply.
She explored his body, tracing his shoulders and running her hands over the powerful muscles of his chest. When the flat discs of his nipples hardened beneath her exploring fingers, she leaned forward and licked him as he had done to her. She couldn't be sure, but she thought the sigh that escaped his lips then, was her name. She turned her attention to the other nipple, scraping lightly with her teeth and his hands fisted in her hair. She trailed her fingers over the ridges of his abdomen, explored the indentions at his lean hips, and ran the flat of her palms over his hair roughened thighs. He groaned then, his erection jutting powerfully from the nest of dark hair.
With more courage than she'd ever given herself credit for, she touched it, her fingertips gliding over the satiny smooth skin. She hadn't expected that it would be so smooth, that the skin would be so velvety, or that the heat of him would sear her.
His breath hissed out through his clenched teeth. “Did I do something wrong?” she asked.
His nearly virginal young wife had him randier than any well-trained courtesan ever had. “No, you did everything right, and if you kept doing everything right I would have spilled myself in your hand and our lovemaking would have been over far too quickly."
"Oh,” she said, her lips forming that exquisite bow. “In that case, I should repeat it."
Rhys didn't give her the opportunity. He laid her back on the bed and came down on top of her. “You are playing with fire, wife."
She smiled, “I know... and I think I like it."
"It's too soon,” he said, kissing her neck, then rolled onto his back, pulling her with him, so that she straddled him. Her hair spilled over them, tangling about their limbs. “You'll be sore. Now, behave."
Emme considered it. She was sore, but she didn't care. “You can't mean to sleep like this,” she protested. “I'm too heavy."