His wide chest with that expanse of smooth, dark skin, the swells, the dips, the peaks of his nipples.

Phenomenal.

But too far away.

I pushed up to take a nipple in my mouth.

Before I succeeded in this endeavor, my husband pushed me down and did what I wanted to do to him to me. He fed my nipple into his mouth with a stroke of his tongue and then he drew.

The searing sensation that fired from nipple to between my legs had me arching off the bed, lacing my fingers at the back of his head, holding him to me, demanding more.

“Aramus,” I moaned.

He lifted up, taking possession of my mouth, his tongue sweeping inside, as he grabbed my hand and pressed it flat against his crotch.

Oh.

My.

All of that was mine?

I whimpered into his mouth.

“See what you do to me,” he growled in mine.

I didn’t see.

I felt.

But I wanted to see.

And so much more.

“Aramus—”

“Yes.”

“I want to see—”

“Yes,” he grunted.

He then pulled away and I scrambled to my knees, raining kisses on his shoulders, the back of his neck, running my hands down his sturdy arms as he sat on the edge of the bed and tugged off boots, socks…

He stood and turned to me, his hands at the belt of his trousers.

I reached out, running my fingers over the silken, heated skin of his chest, but my head was bent.

I so very much wanted to see.

He unbuckled then unbuttoned his trousers…

And then he sprang free, long, thick, proud.

By Medusa.

So, so beautiful.

And all mine.

The heat of me saturated, my mouth watered, my head dipped…

He kicked his trousers away and I had his hands under my arms.

I gave a mew of protest when I was up for nary a second before I landed on my back.

And my panties were gone.

I stopped protesting.

His hands ran down the insides of my thighs, spreading them, and I quivered, staring at the hunger on his face as his eyes roved all over me.

“Please, please, please,” I chanted.

“Please, fuck, please,” he gritted, his fingers drifting back up and trailing through my wet.

Oh, that felt nice.

I whimpered.

At the feel of me ready, the hunger in his face bloomed and I hooked the back of his thigh with my heel in an effort to bring him to me.

He put a hand to the bed beside me, arm straight…

And his eyes to mine.

“I wanted to make this more,” he grunted.

“It’s perfect,” I assured.

“I want to make it splendor.”

“Aramus—”

“Ha-Lah, it needs to be—”

I lifted both hands and caught him at the back of his neck, pulling myself up, my eyes locked to his.

“Husband, take…your…wife,” I commanded.