Visions of scenes from Her Dark Earl flitted through Sarah’s head, men and women displayed in lurid positions—their mouths, hands, and most intimate parts connected, twined together in pleasure.
And she would be just like them… with Michael. With your husband. A man she’d known for years.
So why am I so nervous?
“Bold of you to assume I’d be a willing participant in our current circumstances,” she said the first thing that came to mind. The naughty nature of making love in the daylight, in a strange new place, appealed to her sense of adventure, but Sarah wasn’t above daring Michael to work for her approval.
Their conversations usually revolved around animals or which one of his friends to introduce her sister to. Rarely did they flirt. They skirted the line between friends and lovers, but with the rest of their lives laid before them, perhaps it was time to take the plunge. To dive headfirst into the deep sea of pleasure everyone else seemed so interested in.
Even her father had let desire rule his heart!
Marrying Clara, a woman two decades younger than him, rather than finding solace with a more suitable partner.
White cotton fluttered to the floor followed by black breeches until Michael stood bare before her. Muscles coiled and bunched under his skin while her gaze wandered helplessly over his magnificent form.
Goodness, he is handsome. How had she never noticed?
You noticed but weren’t affected because he was… is your friend.
And now he’s my husband, too.
“Don’t tell me the indomitable Mrs. Sarah Claymore is cowed by fornication.” His eyebrows wriggled in the most ridiculous way possible as he mimicked her impression of Aunt Ida.
She knew she shouldn’t have shared that particular conversation with him.
Drawing a fortifying breath, Sarah made quick work of her boots before rising to her stockinged feet. “Hardly. But who knows when the storm will subside? The sun may shine in the next five minutes. I’d hoped our joining might last a little bit longer, though I’ve heard rumors of some men struggling with stamina…” She shrugged her shoulders, allowing the straps of her chemise to fall down her arms. “Shame to learn my own husband falls within their ranks.”
A husky growl rumbled in the room—the warning sign of an insulted male, the battle cry of a man determined to prove her wrong.
Desire bloomed in her belly, sinking lower to become an ache between her thighs. Sarah’s skin felt tight, the thin cotton of her underclothes chafing her nipples. A condition he immediately took note of, his hooded gaze centering on her breasts, his nostrils flaring with a rough inhalation.
In fascination, she watched Michael as he stalked forward, his muscled form resembling those Greek statues at the museum—contoured and firm and oh-so enticing. Her fingertips twitched with a yearning to trace the line of curls leading down to an impressive…
Cock, that’s what Her Dark Earl called a man’s aroused member.
What Michael would use to pleasure her.
Sarah licked her lips in anticipation, past concerns over a possible lack of passion between them due to friendship dissipating rapidly.
No, there was nothing lacking here.
The gap of space separating them disappeared in seconds as Michael’s long strides urged her back until Sarah bumped into the door. “Unruly little harlot,” he rasped. “Is this what you discuss with your friends at balls? Men’s sexual endurance?”
His fingers ripped the front of her chemise down the middle, and the shocking show of dominance made her weak in the knees. Goodness, who was this man? Certainly not the Michael she’d played snapdragon with during Christmas. Or executed mischievous pranks with as children.
This man demanded attention. Commanded her body to submit to whatever he wished.
And Sarah didn’t submit to anyone.
“Listen closely, wife.” Michael dipped his head to nip at one of her budded nipples before glancing upward. “I am the only man you will ever know. The only man allowed the privilege of learning your most intimate thoughts. Of tasting your intimate secrets.” Two fingers slid between the curls at the apex of her thighs and confidently circled her clenching sex before massaging the bundle of nerves begging for his touch.
Sarah rose to the tips of her toes, a gasp of urgency tingling on her lips. She needed more. Needed everything.
“Michael… Kiss me. Please.” And not one of those proper pecks of our courtship. But Sarah kept that stipulation to herself because her husband’s mouth brushed against hers—once, twice—then whatever chains of restraint he had broke free.
An animalistic grunt vibrated from Michael as he devoured her with the rough plunge of his tongue. Ravaging her senses with the punishing force of his mouth, the insistent plucking of his fingers at her breast, his palm between her thighs.
It was too much.
It wasn’t enough.
Overwhelmed by sensations, Sarah dug her nails into his shoulders and twisted her head to the side, panting for air, helplessly searching for stability.
But Michael wasn’t having it.
“Don’t turn away from me, Sarah.” Authority emanated from him. “Don’t fight this. Don’t fight me.” For a moment, his movements gentled. “I know you’re scared. I am, too… You’re the only woman I’ve ever loved, and I want you to enjoy this. Want to satisfy your every need—even if all my experience was learned from those T.L. Kenny novels.”
Surely, he didn’t mean… “But that would make you a virgin.”
A lopsided grin softened his features. “Men can be virgins, too, you know. As I said, I love you. Have only ever loved you.”
Michael loved her.
He was in love with her.
Tears suddenly sprang to her eyes, and embarrassment made her hide her head in his neck. “I don’t know why I’m crying, but I think I must’ve always loved you, too. But with our parents’ marriages as examples, and you never indicating a deeper affection… I convinced myself that we were just friends. That it was safer to believe the lie than to hope in the truth.”
“Sweet Sarah…” he nudged her temple with his chin until she stole a peek up and saw the fondness in his eyes. “We’re not our parents, although your father seems to be happy with his second choice of wife. We shall blaze our own path, and it will be abundant with love because I adore you. The way you sing to remember a person’s name. Your peculiar interest in Blackbeard and finding his buried treasure. Your infatuation with lurid novels. Every unique, exquisite part of you, my love.”
As declarations went, Sarah didn’t think the esteemed novelist T.L. Kenny could’ve written a better one.
Because it came from Michael’s heart.
Honesty and devotion beamed like rays of sunlight to soothe the restlessness inside her.
“Now, I really won’t be able to stop crying. When did you become such a romantic?” She sniffled and snuggled further into his sturdy chest.
“Today, apparently. You bring it out in me. As for your crying, shall I endeavor to distract you?” His hands resumed their previous activity, although reverence seemed to layer each caress rather than the wild passion of earlier—no less powerful, but tender in its approach.
“For a novice, you appear to have a certain talent for this,” she muttered as the tide of tension rose in her blood again, a pulsing tingle desperate for freedom.
“Happy to have your approval. Now give me your release.” He stroked and pinched and lapped at various points on her skin. His motive was obvious: to bring her satisfaction by any means necessary.
“Michael…”
“Come for me, Sarah. You’re safe and loved, and your husband demands it.” Moments later, Michael’s lips stole over hers and caught her cry of surrender, her body shaking with each surge of pleasure.
It surpassed her dreams.
Eclipsed her reading of such things.
And Sarah knew it was because of Michael. Their bond had always been strong. Kindred spirits, her twin sister would say. But now love tied them together. Tethered their hearts to one another’s with an unbreakable thread.
Chests heaving from exertion, Sarah and Michael considered each other speculatively—a whole new light shining upon them.
Then her husband swept her into his brawny arms and whooped with delight. “Shall we do that again?”
Cupping his cheek, she nodded. “But it’s your turn now. It’s time I test my husband’s resilience.”
The challenge hung in the air as he walked them over to the bed. “As you wish, wife. Do your worst.”
And she did.
Happily.
Devotedly.
A newlywed bride loving her husband.
THE END