“What are you doing? Why did you stop?” Imogen’s hips rocked forward and back as her fingernails dug half-moon designs into his arms.

“Shh, Imogen.” He loomed over her and released her wrists. She instantly draped her arms over his shoulders, burying her hands in his hair. He stared into her eyes as he brought his slick fingers to his mouth, sucking each one slowly to savor her taste. She inhaled sharply, her pupils expanding even more at the sight.

She tasted better than the costliest wine. He ached; ached to slip his tongue inside her, to lick and suck her until she screamed his name to the heavens. He rested an elbow on either side of her head and bent low. Her lips quivered beneath his as she struggled to recapture his mouth in a kiss. He held back, teasing her with just the glide of his tongue across her lower lip.

“This is just the beginning.” He pressed light kisses to her temple, her nose, each eyelid, the tip of her chin, the side of her jaw.

She sighed, turning her head so his mouth caressed her neck. He worshipped her as devoutly as any believer before the altar of a forgotten god. Muscle rippled and flexed where his tongue traveled. Cededa returned to her breasts, drawing ever tightening concentric circles with his tongue until he reached her nipples and sucked them into his mouth. Imogen groaned his name and urged him on with her hands cupping his head.

He loved her leisurely, savoring the varying textures of her skin, the flat expanse of her belly and gentle angle of her hipbones. Her thighs splayed wide, beckoning him as he backed toward the foot of the bed. The taste of her on his fingers only swelled his hunger for more. He slid his hands under her buttocks and lifted her to his mouth.

Imogen nearly came off the bed at the first flick of his tongue. Only Cededa’s grip on her hips held her there. She chanted his name between moans as he made love to her with his mouth. Her pelvis butted his chin as she pushed against him. His shoulders flexed under the weight of her legs as she dug her heels into his back and bucked in the throes of climax.

Imogen went from rigid to boneless, her legs falling away from his back. Cededa laved the wetness coating her entrance, making her jump. He was a breath away from coming on the sheets. His arms shook as he rose above her. She’d never be more ready for him than now, and he had neither the will nor the control to prolong the moment.

Torchlight flickered over her body, and her chest rose and fell with her staccato pants. The sweep of her hand over his chest and stomach made his aching cock throb even harder. “That was my favorite of the frescoes in your bedchamber,” she said with a lazy smile.

Caught between laughter and a groan, he pressed down on her, widening her legs even more to accept his hips and prepare for his possession. She was untried if no longer so innocent. He had eased her tight passage open with his fingers, aided by the natural wetness of her desire, but some discomfort was unavoidable, no matter how much care he took.