wife take a trip together to celebrate being married.” She smiled and swiftly rose to slide her leg up, then straddled his naked body. Her soft, lush quim settled over his warm belly, teased by the rough hair that grew above his magnificent jutting cock. She slipped a bit when she settled into place from the damp gathered there, and smiled at the lick of pleasure that rolled through her.
Zaren—for despite the fact that her husband was the wealthy and powerful John Berkeley, Viscount Hampstead, he would always be Zaren to her—looked up at her with delight in his intense blue eyes. “Again, my love?” he murmured, reaching to cup her generous breasts as they swayed above him.
“As often as you wish,” she replied saucily. “And then another hundred times over, my lord viscount.” She sighed when his hot, slick mouth closed over one very ready nipple, sucking and sliding his tongue around and over the throbbing tip. A little shooting pleasure from nipple to her tiny, tight pip turned into a full-strength orgasm that rippled through her like a long, hot wave. “For that…” she sighed, closing her eyes, “is what a honeymoon is about.”
When the pleasure eased, Jane lifted herself up and slipped his thick, ready cock into position. As she lowered down over him, Zaren’s brilliant blue eyes widened with pleasure…then sank half closed as he grasped her hips to help her with the slow, steady rising and falling as she rode him at a leisurely pace. He filled her with his thick, swollen cock. Every tiny movement, every long, deep stroke, brought with it a blooming of desire.
Jane was a lusty woman—one whose body craved pleasure and was rarely satisfied for long. She was passionate, responsive, and easily aroused; quite different from the other strait-laced, corseted, and repressed women of London society. At least, as far as she knew.
But one thing Jane had discovered over the last months—since she’d met and fallen in deep love with Zaren—was that having sex with her husband was the most arousing, satisfying, and shattering experience of all. It was because of the way he looked at her—with purity, love, and respect—every time. Even when it was rough. Even when it was fast, and hard, and urgent.
Even when she begged for release, when he teased her and taunted her and licked her until she was ready to scream…it was so very different from the other experiences she’d had.
He loved her. She loved him. And fucking someone you loved…well, it was simply heaven. And then some.
Her long red-gold hair tumbled around them like a silken curtain as she rode him, teasing and stroking his length with her tight pussy. This time, she refused to allow him to come, as she had so recently done, loving the expressions that filtered over his face…loving that she had control of him and his pleasure as so many had done to her over the last months.
She loved the way his cock filled her to stretching, the way its purplish head bumped against her clit and slid deeply inside her. She loved the way her labia swelled and grew slick and wet, and the soft sucking sounds her quim made as she moved up and down, back and forward, and in little circles around the jutting rod she rode.
Zaren’s handsome face wavered between tension, wonder, and delight as she alternated her rhythm: fast, slow, verrry slooowwww, and then fast and faster and faster , until they were both gasping and crazy-eyed and ready to explode.
But just as she was gathering up to tip into the glorious white heat of release, he yanked her down flat against him, wrapping a length of hair around his wrist to bind her in place, crushing her breasts against his chest. Before she could react, he trapped one of her legs with his powerful thigh, and curled a strong arm around her waist so she could no longer move and tease him. Jane sighed and moaned, bucking gently against his muscular torso as he held her close…and then forced her to be still. Her face was
Zaren—for despite the fact that her husband was the wealthy and powerful John Berkeley, Viscount Hampstead, he would always be Zaren to her—looked up at her with delight in his intense blue eyes. “Again, my love?” he murmured, reaching to cup her generous breasts as they swayed above him.
“As often as you wish,” she replied saucily. “And then another hundred times over, my lord viscount.” She sighed when his hot, slick mouth closed over one very ready nipple, sucking and sliding his tongue around and over the throbbing tip. A little shooting pleasure from nipple to her tiny, tight pip turned into a full-strength orgasm that rippled through her like a long, hot wave. “For that…” she sighed, closing her eyes, “is what a honeymoon is about.”
When the pleasure eased, Jane lifted herself up and slipped his thick, ready cock into position. As she lowered down over him, Zaren’s brilliant blue eyes widened with pleasure…then sank half closed as he grasped her hips to help her with the slow, steady rising and falling as she rode him at a leisurely pace. He filled her with his thick, swollen cock. Every tiny movement, every long, deep stroke, brought with it a blooming of desire.
Jane was a lusty woman—one whose body craved pleasure and was rarely satisfied for long. She was passionate, responsive, and easily aroused; quite different from the other strait-laced, corseted, and repressed women of London society. At least, as far as she knew.
But one thing Jane had discovered over the last months—since she’d met and fallen in deep love with Zaren—was that having sex with her husband was the most arousing, satisfying, and shattering experience of all. It was because of the way he looked at her—with purity, love, and respect—every time. Even when it was rough. Even when it was fast, and hard, and urgent.
Even when she begged for release, when he teased her and taunted her and licked her until she was ready to scream…it was so very different from the other experiences she’d had.
He loved her. She loved him. And fucking someone you loved…well, it was simply heaven. And then some.
Her long red-gold hair tumbled around them like a silken curtain as she rode him, teasing and stroking his length with her tight pussy. This time, she refused to allow him to come, as she had so recently done, loving the expressions that filtered over his face…loving that she had control of him and his pleasure as so many had done to her over the last months.
She loved the way his cock filled her to stretching, the way its purplish head bumped against her clit and slid deeply inside her. She loved the way her labia swelled and grew slick and wet, and the soft sucking sounds her quim made as she moved up and down, back and forward, and in little circles around the jutting rod she rode.
Zaren’s handsome face wavered between tension, wonder, and delight as she alternated her rhythm: fast, slow, verrry slooowwww, and then fast and faster and faster , until they were both gasping and crazy-eyed and ready to explode.
But just as she was gathering up to tip into the glorious white heat of release, he yanked her down flat against him, wrapping a length of hair around his wrist to bind her in place, crushing her breasts against his chest. Before she could react, he trapped one of her legs with his powerful thigh, and curled a strong arm around her waist so she could no longer move and tease him. Jane sighed and moaned, bucking gently against his muscular torso as he held her close…and then forced her to be still. Her face was
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