Page 37 of The Baron’s Halo

“Very well.” He slid her back into the middle of the bed then climbed up beside her. “Where were we last night? Ah, yes. I was here.”

As he lowered his head to her breast, Isabelle couldn’t control her trembling. It wasn’t fear—far from it. The anticipation of having his mouth on her drove her into a frenzy, until he engulfed her breast in his mouth and she moaned loudly. Each stroke of his tongue stoked the fire deep inside her. Her moaning increased as her core began to coil like before. Yes, this was what she wanted.

His hand strayed downward, brushed the soft curls at the apex of her thighs and she froze once more, but immediately shook her head. “No, don’t stop.” She grasped his hand to keep it there. “Please.”

“Very well.” He continued to stroke her, back and forth, at the same time laving and sucking her breasts.

Never had she felt anything so intensely pleasurable. And it was pleasurable. She had nothing to fear from Sandy.

He moved his hand to her thigh. “Will you open for me, love?”

Focusing on the arousing sensations and nothing else, Isabelle kept her gaze on him and did as he asked.

First tentatively, then with more assurance, Sandy moved his hand between her legs and stroked upward.

The coiling at her core soared, her hips rising off the bed as she writhed against him and cried out. He tried to remove his hand, but she shook her head violently. “No, please, don’t stop.”

Sandy grunted, but redoubled his efforts, his fingers continuing to play, tracing her folds, stroking the strange wetness that suddenly appeared, making her core continue to throb. Then he touched a spot that made her gasp and moan with pleasure.

“Was that a stop?” he whispered, although he continued to stroke that incredibly sensitive spot.

“No, no, it wasn’t. Oh, Sandy…” She twisted the sheets in her hands, tossing back and forth, wanting to fly to pieces as she had before, but she couldn’t quite reach that peak. “It feels so good, but somehow, it’s not…enough.”

He kissed her neck fiercely and slid behind her. “Lift your leg, just a little, love. There. Does that feel all right?”

“Yes.” She panted, unsure what he was doing, but she wanted that shattering feeling so badly, she was willing to do whatever he wanted. Her back was to him, her leg draped over his hip. Then something—not his hand—prodded at her opening. Yesterday this would have frightened her unimaginably. Now, however, with his hand still rubbing that incredible little spot, she felt too good to be frightened.

Sandy adjusted himself, then there was pressure and fullness as he entered her, flowing strongly forward until he lay completely inside her.

Her panting grew more frenzied, and she grasped his hand, needing to reassure him and herself. “I’m fine. Truly I am…just don’t stop.”

Grunting, Sandy withdrew, and she thought he hadn’t understood, until he rocked back into her, slowly building a rhythm that started the coiling sensation all over again.

She’d begun to understand that ebb and flow, to rock against him as he thrust in, meeting him each time, slowly intensifying the throbbing within her. Groaning, she tried to speed up, unaccountably wanting to shatter while he was inside her.

“Isabelle?”

“Don’t stop. Oh, please, don’t stop.” Gasping, she strained against him.

Suddenly, he surged forward, cried out her name and her throbbing core shattered at last. Isabelle spun into a rapturous state, even greater than the time before, because her body could now grasp Sandy’s over and over.

Then, as before, she registered a wonderful contentment before the inevitable darkness descended once more.

Chapter Fifteen

Carnwath, Scotland

Six weeks later

Mid-November

“It happened again, didn’t it?” Isabelle smiled and snuggled her back up next to Sandy. “I was certain it wouldn’t after last night.”

Sweaty and spent, Sandy wrapped his arms around his equally sweaty wife, kissing her neck and tasting salt. “I feared I might faint this time as well, my love.” His exertions in their latest love play had resulted in a prolonged release that had drained him. Never before in the six weeks since they wed had he come this close to la petite mort himself.

“Don’t you think that’s logical?” Isabelle turned toward him and settled against him again. “When I didn’t swoon after last night’s deed of pleasure, I could have sworn I wouldn’t do it again.” She ran her fingers lightly down his chest, dipping one into his navel, making him shudder.

“I didn’t think it bothered you anymore, sweetheart.” He arrested her hand before it could stray lower and cause any more mischief.