The Stanhope Challenge - Regency Quartet - Four Regency Romances by Cerise DeLand Page B

his wife’s body lured him from his dark mood. “I’ll tell you what you’ve done, Mr. Wild.” She pressed a tender kiss to his shoulder. “You have made love to me so often that I am ravenous.”
    He chuckled and turned in her embrace. “Hungry, eh?”
    Christ, she was stunning in the soft morning light. Gleaming dark hair and luminous eyes, she was so unlike Sarah that he was grateful and proud he’d done so well for himself. Tousled and sleepy-eyed, she smiled up at him.
    “What would you like? Eggs? Bacon?” He settled her near to him.
    “A bath.”
    “A wonderful idea.” He nuzzled her ear and brushed his lips along the line of her throat. “You smell divine.”
    “I smell like us!”
    “Precisely.” He arched her up to take a nipple between his teeth.
    She panted in delight as she let him have his fill of both nipples. “And sex.”
    “And you are mine.”
    “Oh, yes,” she sighed, “very much yours.” She pushed away and danced backward toward their bedroom.
    He stalked her. “My tub is big enough for two.”
    She arched a brow. “Is it indeed? I need food before I make love to you again.”
    “I shall feed you as you wash me.”
    She sniffed, feigning indifference. “Demanding creature.”
    Her need to play spurred his interest. His cock rose. “I have not yet begun to show you just how demanding I can be.”
    “Nor have I,” she tossed back, her chin up in the air.
    He laughed, waving a finger to indicate his robe that she’d donned. “Remove that, madam. You hide what feeds my hunger. And I refuse to wait to teach you more.”
    She shrugged and the garment flowed to the floor.
    His balls twitched. His cock rose higher, harder.
    “Do you never tire?” she marvelled at his erection, her eyes gleaming with interest.
    He took a step, caught her as she giggled and would have run from him. “Not of you.”
    She licked her lower lip as he backed her to the wall. “What can you be thinking? To do it standing up?”
    “You will like this,” he promised and braced her upright as he lifted one thigh over his hip. “This position is called Bamboos by the Altar.” He tilted her hips so that he could claim her tight little core. “What say you about it?”
    “Ahh. Um. Do the bamboo stalks move?”
    Words failed him as he filled her to the hilt and rocked with her. Jesus. She was swollen and hot for him. He had not ever had a woman so ready for him at a moment’s suggestion. “Mine does.”
    “Deliciously so,” she affirmed as she tried to get closer to him.
    He rolled his hips to give her what he asked for. “My stalk is the Yang. It reaches and caresses your grotto.”
    She hummed and clutched him closer, her nails in his back. “And does so well, too.”
    “Then I can show you this,” he crooned and slid out of her with a pop.
    “No!” She beat his shoulder as he snagged her arm and led her toward the bed.
    He grinned at her, his pretty, insatiable wife. “I give you another position for your education.” He paused to look her over with narrowed eyes. Her nipples beaded. Her lips parted. How had the gods decided to grant him a woman who truly wanted him in bed? “Bend over. Your hands to the floor.”
    She stared at him, her hands stiff at her sides, her gaze searching and yet curious. She moaned, her desire and anticipation warring. But she bent, her modesty defeated, and he could not believe his good fortune.
    He grinned at the sight of her shapely ass pointed up in the air toward him. Knowing that to touch her little hole would be too quick, too stunning to her sensibilities, he pushed down the temptation. Instead, he spread his hands on her derriere and fondled the fullness of her cheeks. “You are lovely here, my darling.”
    She made a tortured sound. “Touch me, damn you.”
    “Like this?” he asked as he reached down to spread her labia wide and send his cock along her seam.
    “Yes!” she ground out.
    “And this?” He nudged at her clitoris with the tip of