Love Everlasting by Flora Speer

if
she wasn’t sure how to deal with a man who professed to be slower
in bed than the other men she had known. “Sir, are you afflicted
with some grave masculine insufficiency? Is that what you are
trying to say?”
    “Insufficiency?” he repeated, wondering
exactly what kind of disease she meant. He watched her lick her
lips as if they were parched. Following the movement of her pink
tongue and imagining how she could employ it to his intense
delight, he needed all of his strength of will not to throw himself
upon her. She swallowed hard, cleared her throat, and spoke
again.
    “Would you think me shamefully disloyal if I
told you that Lord Armand suffered from the same problem? He showed
me several ways to - er - to enlarge and stiffen what he called his
manly rod.”
    So, her first husband had been impotent. By
the expression on her face and the distasteful twisting of her
lips, she hadn’t enjoyed the process of enlarging and stiffening
Lord Armand. Royce, who needed no help at all in that area, tried
not to laugh at her seriousness. Then it occurred to him that, if
her first marriage hadn’t been consummated, it hadn’t been
legal.
    “Did your assistance help?” he asked
politely.
    “Occasionally. A little. Lord Armand said it
was enough. If you wish, my lord, I will try the same methods on
you.”
    “Some other time, perhaps.” The thought of
Julianna trying to stiffen and enlarge him was enough to drive him
close to madness. “I do thank you for the offer, though.”
    He moved nearer to where she was sitting at
the head of the bed and placed a hand on either side of her hips,
effectively trapping her between his arms. The movement dislodged
his bedrobe. He paid no heed. Julianna watched him warily as he
bent forward to kiss her.
    Her mouth was soft and warm, but
unresponsive. Royce deepened the kiss, pushing his tongue against
her lips until she opened to him. Kneeling on the mattress,
straddling her thighs, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled
her closer, lifting her off the pillows. She did not resist. After
a long moment of hesitation she slid her hands up onto his
shoulders, and then slowly around his neck. Her fingers worked
themselves into his thick, red-gold hair and the sensation of her
fingertips rubbing on his scalp was so delightful that he continued
the kiss for a long, long time.
    When he finally released her mouth, she hung
in his arms, her lips soft and parted, her eyes still closed.
    “Oh, that was nice,” she murmured, obviously
surprised.
    “Good.” He dipped his head to the curve of
her throat, to taste her slightly salty skin, and to smell again
the tangy perfume she wore. She didn’t drench herself in fragrance
the way some women did instead of bathing. Julianna was clean, a
fact that pleased Royce enormously, and he had to be close to her
to smell the scent she used. He intended to ask her what it was.
But later. Some other time, when he wasn’t quite so preoccupied in
testing just how perfectly her breasts fit into his palms, or how
readily she responded when he kissed one, and then the other.
    She seemed to be fascinated by the curly hair
on his chest. First she ran her fingers through it, then she moved
her hands around to his back to pull him closer so she could thrust
her breasts against the hair and rub herself on his chest.
    “Oh, yes,” she whispered. Her head fell back
and the expression on her face and the soft curve of her lips told
him she was, indeed, capable of feeling pleasure.
    Royce wondered briefly if her other husbands
had lacked hair on their chests, or if they had come to bed half
clothed. He dismissed the thought and didn’t ask. He didn’t want
her to recall other men; he wanted her to think only of him.
    He eased her slowly down to the mattress and
rested his weight on one elbow, preparing to explore the lovely
curves of her hips and her thighs before he moved on to the
tempting triangle of honey-brown hair, the place where the urgent
fire that