“Shh.” Simon squeezed her breast in reprimand at her movement. “Sleep,” he mumbled, and his breathing evened out again.
Lucy watched him. Fair stubble glinted on his jaw, there were dark circles under his eyes, and his short hair was smashed to one side. He looked so handsome, she nearly caught her breath. She tilted her head until she could see his hand wrapped around her breast. The nipple poked through between his first and second fingers.
Her face heated. “Simon.”
“Shh.”
“Simon.”
“Back . . . sleep.” He brushed a kiss against her bare shoulder without opening his eyes.
She firmed her mouth. This was a serious matter. “Is the door locked?”
“Umm.”
“Simon, is the door locked?”
He sighed. “Yes.”
Lucy squinted at him. He’d started to snore again.
“I don’t believe you.” She moved to slide from the bed.
Simon twisted and suddenly he was lying on her. He opened his eyes finally. “I should have expected this when I married a country miss.” His voice was gravelly with sleep.
“What?” Lucy blinked up at him. She felt very naked beneath him. His organ pressed into the softness of her lower belly.
“Early hours.” He frowned sternly and shifted so his weight was off her chest. Which only made his hips bear down harder.
Lucy tried to ignore the male anatomy impressing itself onto her stomach. It wasn’t easy. “But the maid—”
“Any maid who comes through that door before we quit this room, I’ll let go without reference.”
“You said it was locked.” She tried to frown but was afraid her lips may have curved in the wrong direction. She should’ve been mortified.
“Did I?” He traced her nipple. “Same thing. No one will interrupt us.”
“I don’t think—”
He covered her mouth with his, and Lucy forgot her thought. His lips were warm and gentle in contrast to his bristles scraping her chin. Somehow the two different touches were erotic.
“So how will you entertain your new bridegroom,” he murmured in her ear, “now that you’ve woken me, hmm?” He pressed his hips into hers.
Lucy shifted restlessly, then stilled with a gasp—a small one, but he heard it nevertheless.
“I’m sorry.” Simon leaped off her. “You must think me a ravenous beast. Does it hurt terribly? Perhaps I should have a maid sent up to tend you. Or—”
Lucy pressed her hand to his lips. She’d never get a word in otherwise. “Shh. I’m all right.”
“But surely your—”
“Really.” Lucy closed her eyes and contemplated pulling the coverlet over her head. Did all married men speak so frankly to their wives? “I’m just a little sore is all.”
He looked at her helplessly.
“It was quite nice.” She cleared her throat. How to get him back to her? “When you were lying next to me.”
“Come here, then.”
She inched closer, but when she would have faced him, he gently turned her so that her back was to his chest.
“Put your head here.” He stretched out his arm to make a pillow for her.
She was even warmer than before, cradled and held all around by his body in a comfortable, safe embrace. He brought his legs up behind hers and groaned softly. His erection was against the small of her back, insistent and hot.
“Are you all right?” she whispered.
“No.” He chuckled rustily. “But I’ll survive.”
“Simon—”
He clasped her breast. “I know I hurt you last night.” His thumb flicked her nipple. “But it won’t be like that again.”
“It’s all right—”
“I want to show you.”
Lucy tensed. What, exactly, did showing her entail?
“I won’t hurt you,” he whispered in her ear. “It’ll feel nice. Relax. Let me show you heaven; you’re an angel, after all.” His hand smoothed down her torso, tickling across her belly, and reached the hair below.
“Simon, I don’t think—”
“Shh.” He walked his fingers through her maiden hair. She trembled and didn’t know where to look. Thank goodness he wasn’t facing her. Finally, she closed her eyes.
“Open for me, sweetheart,” he rumbled in her ear. “You’re so soft here. I want to pet you.”
Surely he wouldn’t . . .
He wedged his knee between her thighs, parting them. His hand traced the flanges of her sex. She caught her breath, waiting.
“I’d kiss you here.” He stroked up. “Lick and tongue you, memorize your spice, but I think it’s too soon for that.”
Her brain froze as she tried to imagine. Her hips shied.
“Shh. Be still. It won’t hurt. In fact”—he reached the top of her cleft-—“I’ll make you feel very, very good.” He circled that bit of flesh there. “Look at me.”
She couldn’t. She shouldn’t even be allowing him to do this. Surely this wasn’t what was normally done between man and wife.
“Angel, look at me,” he crooned. “I want to see your beautiful eyes.”
Reluctantly she turned her head. Raised her eyelids. He stared at her, silver eyes glittering as he pressed with a finger. Her lips parted.
“God,” he groaned. Then he was kissing her, his tongue stroking over hers as his fingers slid more rapidly. She wanted to move her hips, to beg that finger. Instead she arched back, rubbing against him. He mumbled something and bit her bottom lip. She felt her wetness now, seeping, making his fingers slippery.
He pushed his penis hard against her bottom.
She couldn’t catch her breath, couldn’t think. She shouldn’t let this happen. Not in front of him. He thrust his tongue into her mouth and relentlessly circled her below. He was a silver-eyed sorcerer who held her enthralled. She was losing control. She sucked on the thickness of his tongue and suddenly it happened. She arched and felt pleasure shake her. He moved more slowly then, raised his head to watch her, but she no longer cared. Warmth was diffusing through her, spreading from the center of her body. It did indeed feel good.
“Simon.”
“Angel?”
“Thank you.” Her tongue felt thick, as if she were drugged, and her words were a mumble. She closed her eyes and drifted for a bit, but then she thought of something. He was still hard against her back. She wiggled her bottom, and he sucked in a breath. Did it hurt him?