I gasp and twitch in anticipation at a sudden puff of air on my center. Fabric rasps quietly—he’s scooting down over the sheets. Then I feel his lips brush my ankle.

“Y-you suck.” I giggle helplessly. He’s really skipping over the main attraction? After starting at my ears and working all the way down, he’s going to start over again at my feet and work up too? Geez . . .

“It’ll all be worth it, I promise,” he purrs, his hot breath fanning over my calf.

I try to force myself to hold still as his mouth travels slowly up my legs. But a ragged moan bursts from my throat when he starts sucking and biting at my inner thighs. I’d never let Noah hear the end of it if he ever left a hickey on my neck, but nobody else will ever see these marks. They’re private, intimate, their sensual meaning reserved for us and us alone. And the idea that Noah is claiming me as his own . . . it makes me shiver almost as much as the sensation of his love bites themselves.

His large, warm hands grip my thighs and spread them. I shudder at the feel of his breath ghosting over my wet pussy again. Why isn’t he moving?

“W-what are you doing?” I groan.

“Just pausing to admire you.”

My cheeks heat up. I’m not ashamed of my body, but he’s talking about my lady parts like he’s looking at a work of art or something.

“Is it really that—?”

“Beautiful, yes.”

The urge to clamp my thighs together flares up, but I fight internally with myself to let him admire me.

“Hot.” He kisses the very top of my mound once. “Tight.” His mouth moves lower, an innocent kiss placed a fraction lower. “Sweet.” Another kiss, another tiny, maddening step closer to where I want him. “Wet.”

I almost scream when his tongue finally, finally slides over my clit.

“Mine,” he growls.

Noah licks and sucks with the same maddening leisure as when he worshiped my body. He doggedly ignores my fingers tangling in his hair and yanking his face into my core, trying to get him to hurry the fuck up already. But he’s in no hurry to make me come. It’s as if he has all day.

His hot, wet, agile tongue keeps flicking from side to side like a lazy swish of a cat’s tail. It’s exactly the sensation that gets me off best—if it were only a little bit faster. The blissful heat builds steadily, but goddammit, so slowly. I can feel the edge approaching, yet I can’t quite reach it. All I can do is be patient and wait for Noah to take me there. This snail’s pace is driving me crazy. Closer, closer, inch by inch . . .

Until he groans against my wet flesh and pushes a rigid finger into me. My climax finally breaks, flooding my body like an ocean of warm light, and it goes on and on and on, fuck . . .

I hear whimpering and realize it’s me. His tongue keeps lashing over my clit, letting me ride out my orgasm to the very end, through the very last drops of pleasure.

I melt bonelessly into the sheets. As I drift down from my high, still loopy from the intensity, I let out a giggle. Everything about this day—triumph for our families’ company, peace and love in our marriage—has been such a long time coming. I guess it’s only fitting that my orgasm would be an exercise in patience too.

The bed dips again as his weight and body heat leave me for a moment. The rattle of a drawer sliding open, followed by a crinkle of plastic, tells me he’s putting on a condom.

I want to rip off the blindfold, see his dilated pupils, his swollen lips, his rock-hard, dripping cock. But then he moves over me and kisses me hard as the blunt head of his cock nudges my pussy lips.

I suck in my breath when he begins to enter me—so slowly, pulls out, and pushes back in, letting me adjust to his size again. Even though I’m slick from my orgasm, it’s still a tight fit. It probably always will be. To marrying well, indeed.

With everything that’s been on my plate lately, we haven’t had sex in almost a week—and that’s a week too long, as far as I’m concerned. I’m so damn ready for this.

I rock my hips up, panting, “Please, Noah, fuck me.”

He makes a quiet, rough noise of desire. “Jesus, Snowflake, how could any man say no to that?”

A deep moan of relief escapes me as he starts thrusting in earnest. Every stroke pounds straight into my G-spot, sending shock waves of pleasure through my entire body, still oversensitive from my last orgasm. Sex while blindfolded is a totally different experience. I’m hyper-attuned to his every rough breath, every thrust of his hips, every rigid vein and ridge in his large cock.

I grope around the sheets for Noah’s hand, find it, and squeeze tight after he laces our fingers together—an anchor in the sea of sensation that rocks me. His lips press against mine and I open hungrily to his kiss. My tongue reaches out for his and intertwines, a sweet, hot dance that echoes the movements of our bodies. We only break apart to gasp for breath, dizzy with exertion and each other.

“I thought I was going to lose you,” Noah groans into my ear.

I arch my hips up and tighten my legs around his waist, needing him deeper, needing to hold him close. “You’ve got me now,” I pant. “I love you, Noah . . . so much.”

And I want more. We move together almost frantically, rushing to meet each other, pleasure building with every rocking thrust.

When it comes, my second orgasm doesn’t wash over me like a gentle sea. It shudders through me as violently as an earthquake, a lightning strike, locking my muscles and pulling a tight cry from my throat. Somewhere in the maelstrom of pleasure, I feel Noah shudder around me, inside me, moaning my name like a prayer.