She screamed. She’d never screamed in pleasure in her life. Never. No matter what had been done to her. Her body detonated, shattered, came apart into a million pieces at the first piercing of his tongue and the flick of his finger against her clit.
He didn’t wait for her to ease down as the orgasm rolled through her. He used his tongue, fingers and teeth to keep the powerful waves building in intensity. Brielle dug her fingernails into his shoulder and scalp, desperate for an anchor, for anything to keep her from soaring too high. She was afraid she might lose her sanity.
Colors flashed behind her eyes. There was a roaring in her ears. Her brain fogged. There was no way to breathe. Then he was moving again, looking up at her, smiling, even as her body was still convulsing with total pleasure and she could barely make him out as he casually wiped his glistening face on her thighs. She found that so sexy, her body just rolled right into another orgasm again, or maybe she hadn’t stopped.
He knelt up between her legs, his cock in one hand, pressing the broad head to her slick entrance. Again, he didn’t wait, but surged deep, his thick length driving through her shuddering folds, the friction almost unbearable. He was big, filling her, adding to the chaos in her mind. Then he began to move in her, long deep strokes that kept her off balance, kept building the inferno.
“Elie.” There was no whispering his name. She was sobbing it.
“Right here, bébé.” His fingers dug into her hips, urging her to keep up with his insane rhythm.
Brielle couldn’t stop herself from matching the pace he set. The feeling was too good. At the same time, he was too deep, too thick, stretching her so there was a burning that accompanied the streaks of lightning that rushed through her body as the tension coiled tighter and tighter. She didn’t want him ever to stop, yet she was afraid to keep going.
One hand left her hip and he flicked her left nipple hard. A flash of fire roared in a straight line from her nipple to her clit. Her channel reacted with more shudders and deep in her belly the coil tightened. Elie slid his hand down to her hip again and continued to surge in and out of her with deep, hard strokes.
His gaze seemed riveted on the two of them coming together and then up to her eyes. “Look at me, Brielle,” he commanded.
She felt a little lost in a haze of bliss. It was difficult to surface enough to do as he said, but she blinked to bring him entirely in focus.
“You’re beautiful. Everything about you is beautiful. I’m grateful you’re my wife.” He bent his head slowly forward toward her chest. It wasn’t easy. He had to lift her bottom to give himself the room. “Come for me hard. Give yourself to me.”
His mouth was on her breast, the left one, his teeth clamping down on her nipple, the pressure hard this time. Fire erupted, engulfing her from the inside out and she did exactly as he demanded. Her body took over, her sheath gripping his cock with greedy muscles, powerful and eager, contracting and releasing, determined to milk every drop from him. She felt the hot spurts of his seed as he coated the walls of her channel, sending even more shuddering orgasms rolling through her body from her breasts to her thighs.
The aftershocks rocked her, so that she couldn’t keep from crying out again. Elie was still for a few moments, breathing hard and then, once again, his body blanketed hers, pressing his chest over hers, giving her his weight. His hand slipped around her throat so that her pulse beat frantically into his palm.
Elie buried his face against her neck, and sank his teeth into her shoulder. The pain moved through her, triggering another orgasm, so that her body clamped down on his cock. She felt the instant pulsing and throbbing as if he was still expanding, not shrinking, ready to leave her body. Her lungs burned with the need for air, but she didn’t want him to move. Not yet. She struggled to breathe shallowly.
Elie brushed a kiss over the bite mark and then eased his weight off her chest the way he had before, by planting his hand in the bed beside her head. “I think it’s official, Mrs. Archambault. There’s no squirming out of the marriage now.”
She wasn’t certain she actually returned his smile. She’d never been so exhausted in her life. She did manage a nod and hoped that counted as an answer.
He rolled over. “Give me a minute, bébé, I’ll get a washcloth and clean you up. When we both can move again, we can take a shower and use the Jacuzzi.”
“I think I’m falling asleep.”
His laughter was pitched low. “Go ahead, Brielle. We’re on our honeymoon. No one expects us to surface for a few days. We’re not on any schedule.”