“Demanding little wife,” he breathed, nibbling on a particularly sensitive part of her throat. “I like when you order me about.”
“I want you,” she told him, thrusting into his hand, his fingers.
He withdrew from her, and she knew a moment of agonizing waiting until he brought his cock to her entrance. “I want you more.”
If it was a contest, Callie was sure she would win.
If she could manage a coherent word, that was.
Which she most decidedly could not.
It did not matter, anyway, because in the next breath, her husband impaled her with his thick, rigid cock. Sensation burst. Over her. In her. Everywhere. She was delirious with need, with bliss. He was buried deep, so deep. And it felt good, so good.
He started moving, thrusting slowly, building the momentum, the need. With each stroke, she cried out. The only sound in the room was their ragged breathing and the wetness of her cunny as he pumped into her with gradually increasing speed. She slid her hands to the edge of the piano to keep from collapsing atop it. The ridge gave her purchase as she began moving against him, seeking more. Deeper, harder, faster.
He gave her everything she wanted, just as he always did.
His fingers found her pearl, stroking with expert precision.
It did not take long for her to reach the heights of passion again. She spent once more, clenching on his cock, rearing against him to drive him deep, and he lost himself in almost the same moment, spilling inside her. She milked every last drop from him, reveling in the warm torrent of his release until at last, sated and drained, she collapsed against the piano.
He kissed her nape. Whispered his love for her in her ear.
And she whispered hers for him right back.
Sin paced the length of his study for the hundredth time.
Or the thousandth.
Mayhap millionth?
Millionth. Was that even a word?
He ran his hand over his jaw and then over his whole bloody face, closing his eyes. “Fuck!”
“Whisky?”
Decker’s calm, wry voice shook Sin from his inner torment. He opened his eyes again to find his friend standing before him, a half-full glass extended between them like an offering to the gods.
Sin plucked the glass from Decker’s fingers. “Hell yes.”
He lifted the fine crystal to his lips and poured the whisky down his throat before offering it back to his friend. “More.”
Decker raised a lone, dark brow. “Certain? I thought you were no longer touching the stuff after the time you were too obliterated to go home and Lady Sinclair nearly cut off your ballocks.”
It was true. After that horrible night, Sin had not touched another drop of whisky. Nor had he gone to the Black Souls club. He had been doing his utmost to be a husband worthy of Callie. To show her she could always trust him. To banish the demons of his past forever. And he had done so.
But today was a different sort of day.
It had begun in ordinary fashion, waking to Callie in his bed. They had made love slowly and deliciously. Then, breakfast. Followed by all hell breaking loose.
And now, he was awaiting the birth of his daughter or son. Callie had been upstairs with Dr. Gilmore, her sister-in-law, and her best friend Lady Jo for hours. Suffering. Laboring. Sin could only pray that both his wife and their child would survive. It was harrowing. Terrifying. He had faith, but he was petrified, nevertheless.
“What time have you?” he asked Decker, instead of answering his friend’s question.
It had been deuced rude, anyway.
“Half past eight.” Decker tipped a decanter, splashing more whisky into Sin’s empty glass. “Bloody hell, man. Is this what I have to look forward to?”
Sin took a frantic gulp of liquor, feeling it burn all the way to his gut. He probably ought to offer his friend an encouraging word. But fuck the blighter. Sin was not his keeper.
“Absolutely,” he said, without a hint of conscience.
Decker poured himself a glass. “Fuck.”
Sin toasted him mockingly. “My sentiments precisely.”
And then he promptly drained the rest of his glass.
But the whisky was not helping him. It did nothing to assuage his worries. He slammed his glass down upon his desk and resumed pacing.
“It has been far too long,” he worried aloud. “Westmorland went to check on the progress ages ago.”
“This sort of thing takes time, does it not?” Decker asked.
“Yes,” Sin bit out, turning back to his friend and stalking back down the length of the