The Gold Miner's Wife: A Young Woman's Story of Romance, Passion and Murder by Amethyst Creek

and aspen,” Ella said.
                  “My dear,” said Thomas turning to his wife, “I was not aware that the park was ready to be dedicated.”
                  “It was recently decided to move the date.  There are so many other activities coming up soon that it seemed necessary,” she replied.
                  “A stringer from the Tribune will be there.  Think of the publicity!” Ella gushed.  
                  Late that night, Thomas stood in the soft lamplight of the bedroom embracing his beautiful wife.  These were the moments that filled her dreams, her private time with Thomas, the way he claimed her, thrilled her, his hardness to her softness, each joining more intense, more exquisite than the last.  “You looked lovely tonight,” he whispered, as he locked his arms around her and pulled her backward against his chest.  Thomas bent to kiss the sensitive skin behind her ear and then trailed kisses along the nape of her neck to her shoulder, sending shivers of delight coursing through her.  “You taste delicious,” he said as his warm breath floated across her skin, “better than any dessert.” 
    “Better than strawberry rhubarb pie?’ she asked.  That earned her a soft nip on the shoulder.  She could feel the grin on his lips against her skin.  His hands were around her waist, anchoring her, his thick arousal well in evidence as she leaned against him.  Then he cupped her breasts, squeezed and kneaded as he continued his onslaught of feather light kisses, and she let out a series of sweet gasps.
                  Thomas turned her around and kissed her lips tenderly.  “Susannah, my love,” he said, “I am the luckiest man alive.”  Her hair was loose about her shoulders and he sifted his fingers through the glorious strands while his tongue swept into her mouth for a deeper kiss.  He worked at the buttons at the back of her gown; so great was his need to have her that he almost tore at the bodice.  The gown soon pooled at her feet and he helped her step out of it.  He adeptly dispensed with her petticoat, followed by her stockings and chemise, until she was completely naked before him.  He backed her against her writing desk, her bottom touching its edge, and he bent his head to worship her full, round breasts, taking each one deep into his mouth and suckling hard.  Intense shards of awareness overwhelmed her senses.  “Oh, Thomas,” she whispered, “I love you,” she moaned, as she kissed his forehead, his brow and caressed his hair.  His rock hard body pinned her firmly against the desk, and although he was fully clothed, she could feel the heat of his desire against her belly, thick and full.
                  Papers scattered as he gently lowered her down onto the desk.  He bent over her and trailed kisses across her belly to the apex of her curls, then held her thighs firmly in place as he tasted her nether lips and suckled the bud at the core of her womanhood.  His artful tongue drove her wild with need, such exquisite torture, and she arched into him, willing his tongue to go deeper still.  He sucked hard on her nub, drawing forth and drinking in the honey from her womb as he felt her contract against his tongue and lips, heard her cry out his name.
                  Thomas could wait no longer.  He unbuttoned the placard of his trousers, freeing his engorged penis, then pulled her bottom closer to the edge of the desk, held her thighs around his waist and drove into her with one powerful thrust.   He stood over her, joined with her as she lay back upon the desk; she was panting with her need of him, her heaving breasts so beautiful in the lamplight.  She was completely at his mercy now, fully opened to him.  He thrust inside again, filled her, fully seated himself, and she cried out his name.  He studied her face, saw the evidence of the power he had over her as he pleasured her