Tempting Mr. Townsend (Dashing Widows #2)

Chapter Eleven

F enella felt like she started out on a long journey that stretched beyond this large, comfortable bed into infinity. But this first step? Ah, this first step was marvelous. She stretched beneath Anthony, basking in the snug fit of their bodies.

When he'd pushed inside her, he'd pressed his face into the curve of her neck. Now he raised his head and shifted, setting off delicious little explosions inside her. “Good?”

She smiled and twined her arms around his back, tracing his long, straight spine and the sleek muscles. “Better than good.”

He kissed her, then tautened his hips and moved. The glide of his body drew a shivery sigh of enjoyment from her. A moment's emptiness before he filled her again.

Joined like this, she thought she'd never feel cold again. “More,” she whispered, tilting up.

Her encouragement unleashed his power. His dark eyes turned blind, and he began to move with great, deliberate strokes, deep and high so she shuddered with each thrust.

She loved every moment. While she'd thrilled to his tenderness, she'd feared he meant to treat her as too fragile for genuine passion. But this possession spoke to her strength and stirred a turbulent reaction she'd never known.

Craving the end that turned her blood to fire, she shifted restlessly. But still he kept her teetering on the edge of release until she sobbed with frustration.

“Stop torturing me.” Sweet, biddable Fenella Deerham fisted her hands and pounded on her lover's back to make him obey. He laughed breathlessly and with a surge of movement, rolled onto his back until she straddled him.

“Oh,” she gasped, instinctively leaning forward to flatten her hands on his heaving chest. The crisp hair tickled her palms, and his skin was hot as a furnace. “I'm not sure…”

He caught her hips, keeping her in place before she scrambled away. “You haven't done this before?”

He sounded surprised. It seemed mad to blush when she was stark naked and Anthony was deep inside her, but this position seemed so outlandish as to be perverse. “Ridden a man like a horse? No, I most certainly have not.”

The sweetness in his smile almost vanquished her jitters. “Try it. You'll like it.”

“I don't think so.” Fenella squirmed with discomfort.

Except when she moved, discomfort wasn't the result. A lightning jolt of pleasure blasted her, and she cried out in astonishment.

Anthony's smile was smug, as with a hitch of his hips, he touched parts of her she hadn't known existed. The spark ignited into cascading fire. Even as she told herself she couldn't possibly be so wicked, she wriggled again to summon those breathtaking sensations.

His hands tightened, and his lips drew back from his teeth in an expression of fierce delight. “Oh, aye, lass.”

She couldn't complain about the view. Spread beneath her, he looked quite glorious. His olive skin gleamed like satin, and his superb physique showed to advantage against the crumpled white sheets.

“No need to look so pleased with yourself,” she muttered, pressing down to ignite that quaking reaction once more.

“It's your turn to torture me.” He squeezed her breasts, teasing the nipples to aching points until she writhed. With every second, she was less shocked and more curious.

“I don't know what to do,” she confessed, embarrassed.

“Here.” He caught her hips again, lifting her, then bringing her down in a sensual slide that set every nerve in her body alight. At this angle, he filled all of her.

“So I really do ride you?”

Odd how freely she asked the question. In bed with Henry, much as she'd liked what they'd done, she'd always been circumspect. But Anthony Townsend awoke a new Fenella. The new Fenella, despite earlier misgivings, very much liked this variation on mating.

“You really do.”

Experimentally she imitated the movement he'd demonstrated and watched his expression reflect her enjoyment. What had seemed so unacceptable became more natural. With a smothered moan, she began to rise and fall over him, more like waves on the ocean than a rider.

His gaze focused on her bobbing breasts, and the unabashed hunger in his eyes made her feel like a goddess. She'd never imagined she could lead with a lover, dictating pace and rhythm. To her surprise, she liked it.

Daringly, she clenched on the descent. Anthony's groan was long and guttural. “Damnation, you drive me out of my mind.”

She laughed with brazen abandon, and just because she could, tightened again and rolled her hips. He closed his eyes. “You'll kill me.”

“Not yet.” She shook her hair back from where it clung to her heated skin. “I'm not finished with you.”

“Witch,” he whispered, and caught her shoulders, sweeping her under him and thrusting deep.

She bowed up until her breasts crushed into his chest, then gasped as he moved more intently. For what felt like hours, she'd hovered close to shattering. Now craving spiraled higher with each slide of his body.

She dug her nails into his sinewy back and gasped for air. Then for one dizzy second, she balanced on a pinnacle of bright torment. Before in a flash of searing light, she tumbled over into purest ecstasy.

Mindlessly she clung to Anthony as she rocketed through incandescent space. She cried out at the wonder of it all, then again when finally his control broke and he drove into her, flooding her with his hot seed.

After the wild flight reached its breathless end, peace washed over her like a warm sea. Fenella collapsed back upon the bed in exhausted, trembling, joyful satiation.

* * *

Anthony stirred and opened his eyes to darkness. Since he'd plunged into a dreamless sleep with Fenella in his arms, the fire had burned down to embers. Limp and exhausted, she still snuggled against him.

She'd been remarkable, a miracle, beyond his most extravagant fantasies. Now he wanted to do it all again. His cock rose against her belly and he rubbed languorously against her softness. She made a sleepy, incoherent murmur and turned toward him with an immediate trust that touched his soul. She leaned in to brush a kiss over his heart.

He rose over her, kissing her face, then very gently her lips. She gave another bewitching murmur and lifted her knees to cradle him between her thighs. He wasn't even convinced that she was awake, but her willingness was clear.

God knew, he was more than ready.

He slipped his hand down to stroke her. She was wet and hot, and at the touch of his fingers, she gave one of those little hums of pleasure that had so tantalized him last night.

Gradually, savoring every luscious sensation, he slid inside her. When she immediately tightened to bring him closer, his heart dissolved. The urgency that had marked their first explosive union was absent. In its place was a poignant need to cherish. He kissed her again, then started to move with a relentless gentleness that had her sighing in greeting every time he stroked deep. This was like floating on clouds of joy.

He kept up the careful rhythm as long as he could, but eventually, inevitably hunger rose. She quivered on a peak of satisfaction, less tempestuous, but slower and longer than before. He buried his face in her shoulder and groaned as he filled her. This joining was breathtakingly profound, for all the thunder and lightning of their first time.

Anthony sighed and rolled onto his back, shaping her to his side. She murmured again and curled against him, all relaxed, womanly satisfaction. As he idly stroked her tangled hair, he smiled to realize that despite what they'd just shared, she was still closer to asleep than awake.

He settled more comfortably against the pillows. Life offered a man nothing finer than a cozy bed on a cold night and his woman dozing in his arms. He didn't know what he'd done to deserve this happiness, but he meant to hold on to it. And to Fenella.

She shifted again and pressed a drowsy kiss above his heart where she'd kissed him before. The instinctive tenderness made his heart cramp with unfamiliar but devastating emotion. He'd never felt like this before. She shook his world to its very foundations.

Cuddling up again, Fenella brushed her cheek against his chest with open affection. She hadn't spoken at all when he'd been inside her, although her moans and sighs had been the sweetest of music. Now, her voice emerged thick with sleep.

“Oh, Henry, my darling, I love you so much.”