She wiggled beneath him, the friction of him on her slick folds sending pleasure radiating through her, along with need. He bowed his head and took a nipple in his mouth, sucking. She arched into him, her fingers once more sifting through his silken hair.
Benedict released the greedy peak. “You are perfection.”
She had many faults and she knew it, but in the intensity of his gaze, love blazing there, she felt more beautiful than she ever had before. “There is nothing perfect about me,” she said, breathless.
He licked her nipple, then bit it. “On the contrary, my love. Your breasts are perfection.” He kissed the swell, then drew her other nipple into his mouth.
Wet heat engulfed her. The suction made an answering pulse pound deep in her core where she wanted him most. He abraded her nipple with the sharp, white edge of his teeth.
Air hissed from her. “Wicked man.”
“See? Perfection.” He nipped her. “Perfectly sensitive. Perfectly delicious.”
The pressure between her thighs grew almost unbearable. She undulated against him, and when the tip of his rigid cock glanced over her pearl, she could not suppress her moan.
He kissed his way down her belly. “Utter.” Kiss. “Perfection.” He tongued the impression of her navel, making her shiver. “Every part of you is so damn beautiful.” Kiss, kiss, kiss, all the way to her mound.
When his tongue dipped between her folds, it was as if she had been touched with an electric current. He flicked over her in wet, quick strokes. Liquid pleasure shot through her.
“You are perfect here, too,” he said. “Pretty and pink and so wet.”
He sucked hard on her pearl. Her hips lifted from the mattress. A moan fell from her lips. His tongue moved lower, to her entrance, and he licked into her. She grasped his hair, undulating against him. Needing him to fill her. To stretch her. To take her. The slick intrusion was too much, and yet it was not enough.
She was restless. Wanton.
“Perfection,” he said, licking back up to her pearl, his eyes intense upon hers.
She could not look away. The sight of his handsome face between her thighs was unbearably erotic. As he sucked once more on the bud of her sex, he slid one long finger deep inside her channel, stroking as he had done with his tongue.
She twisted beneath him, trying to drag him deeper. As he tortured her with his mouth, a second finger joined the first. She gripped him, this new sensation atop the decadent pleasures of his lips and tongue sending her careening dangerously close to the edge.
Desire was a knot, spiraling, growing.
One nip of his teeth, and she flew from the ledge. All the pent-up passion she had nursed for the last two months released in a rush. She shuddered. An almost violent pleasure exploded inside her, stealing her breath. She threw her head back against the pillow, giving in to the bliss until the last ripple radiated through her.
He rose over her then, but she stayed him with a hand. “Not yet.” She urged him to his back. “It is my turn to tell you how perfect you are, my love.”
His jaw was tense, his ready cock a testament to just how much restraint he had exerted. “Isabella, if you touch me, I am likely to spill in your hand.”
Her body humming with the release he had given her, she straddled his hips. “It is only fair, my darling.”
Without awaiting his response, she lowered her head and kissed the prominent ridge of his clavicle. Though they had already been intimate, she longed to explore him in the way he had her. Every part of him fascinated her. His flat nipples, the light dusting of golden hair coating his chest, the firm muscles trapped beneath his skin. She kissed him everywhere, worshiping him. Loving him.
She flicked her tongue over his nipple as he had done to her. “Perfection.”
He grunted. “Isabella.”
“Hush.” She pressed her forefinger to his lips, stilling them. “Lie there like a good husband. No protestations.”
“Damn it, woman,” He reached for her, cupping her breast.
And though she loved his hands upon her, another thought emerged as she recalled how incredibly sensual it had been to obey him when they had last made love. She took his wrists and pinned his arms to the bed on either side of him.
“Do not move until I tell you to,” she ordered him.
“Isabella,” he said again, ignoring her command.
She nipped his shoulder. “I told you to hush. It is my wish to enjoy my husband.”
“Enjoy me anymore, and you will not enjoy my cock inside you,” he grumbled.
But when she released his wrists, he kept his hands at his sides. She kissed his throat. His Adam’s apple. She inhaled deeply here, where his masculine scent seemed most rich. And then his jaw. His beautiful lips.
“Utter perfection,” she whispered against his mouth.
And then she worked her way down his body again. Over his neck, his wounded shoulder. Kiss. Kiss. Kiss. To his forearms. Kiss. His hands. Kiss. His hip bone.
When she reached his straining cock, she glanced up at him just as he had done to her, and then she took the tip of him into her mouth. His taste flooded her tongue. Salty, earthy, delicious.
On a groan, he reached for her.
She released him. “No moving, Your Grace.” She flicked her tongue over the slit on the head of his cock, where a pearly bead of his seed had leaked. She liked him on her tongue. How wicked of her.
But that was the effect he had always had on her, was it not? He made her want him with a desperation unlike any she had ever previously known. And it was time for him to experience some of that same delicious torment.
She sucked. His hips jerked, sending him deeper into her throat. The hiss from him told her
