If you like this online read you'll enjoy Marguerite Kaye's books!

The Wicked Lord Rasenby
 £0.99
 £0.99

Rake with a Frozen Heart
 £4.24
 £4.24

The Highlander's Redemption
 £3.39
 £3.39

Chapter Nine

He undressed her slowly, as if he was unwrapping a precious gift. Kissing, stroking, caressing every part of her as it was revealed—her neck, her arms, her breasts. Especially her breasts. His hands moulded them, his mouth licking, sucking, making her moan, a strange sound that aroused her further.

He discarded his own clothing at the same time, taking her hands, showing her how to touch him, to learn the map of his body, the contours of his shoulders, his chest, the concave of his belly.

Naked now, she resisted the urge to wrap her arms protectively around herself and saw that she had done the right thing in the way he looked at her, with a hint of admiration and a gratifying blaze of desire slashing crimson on his cheeks. His focus intensified. He, too, was naked. She slanted her gaze down to the proud, thick length of his arousal. She burned with wanting and wondered how he could possibly… How they could possibly…

"Touch me," Munir said, taking her hand and laying it on his shaft. Hard and silken, so very, very different from anything she had known. So very, very arousing.

He laid her down on the low divan and gently parted her thighs, his fingers stroking into the hot wetness between them, making her moan again. "Munir, what should…"

He kissed her. "Nothing," he commanded, "you should do nothing. I am your husband, Silvia. It is my pleasure to teach you pleasure."

He kissed her again. Her mouth. Her throat. Her breasts. Her belly. Lower. His mouth was on the tender skin between her thighs, his fingers parted her and then his tongue licked in. There!

She gasped. Shock. Then a bolt, a surge of heat, as he licked into her again, coaxing and circling, stroking and stoking up the spiralling, clenching, tightening heat until she gasped again and let go because she could not hang on any longer, though she wanted to. She was hurtled and spun into the air, high, higher still and higher, and she wanted only this. To fly effortlessly.

Even as she soared, Munir was kissing her mouth again, his body covering hers. Tilting her toward him, he eased himself inside her, riding on the ebb and flow of her climax. Her maidenhood gone, he pushed deeper still, so that Silvia felt herself gathering anew, tightening anew. He paused, waiting. For what? She arched, dug her hands into his buttocks, saw from the tautness in his face that he liked it. She arched again.

His hands on her hips, Munir pulled her even closer to him. His wife. His wife! His. So strange to feel so possessive. And for this to be so much more intense than he'd ever experienced, much more so than he had ever imagined.

He thrust into her, his length enveloped in her slickness, his movements making her shiver and tighten around him. Harder, higher, deeper he thrust, feeling himself swelling inside her until she let go, and then he spilled himself with a harsh moan, kissing her, clutching at her, lost in the raging tempest of his climax as he had never been before.