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The Sweetest Touch

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She could see hardly more than his outline in the pale moonlight, but it was enough. Even candlelight would be too harsh for this occasion, would disturb a moment so tender and intimate.

Lying on her side, she faced him, couldn’t get enough of looking at him. And he – although he never stopped touching her – seemed unable to break their connection as well. She’d loved before, had been married before, but never had any man looked at her with such tenderness, making her believe she was the very best thing in his world.

She bit her bottom lip, when his hand stopped caressing her belly, travelled up to stroke a breast, teasing her nipple into hardness with the tip of his index finger. Arching into the touch, she tried remaining silent. Reaching out, she curled her hand around his shoulder, holding on.

“Is the little one okay with this?” Charles asked, almost making her giggle.

“She sleeps.”

He smiled. “Do you want to sleep, too?”

She shook her head no.

God, she loved the boyish grin appearing on his face, forgot it the moment his lips found hers and his hand trailed lower and lower until he cupped her sex. They hadn’t been intimate for over a week now, and her body, high on hormones, reacted almost violently to his tender explorations.

Her eyes fell close without her doing, and all she could concentrate on was the way he caressed her, two fingers inside her body, stroking, searching, the heel of his hand pressing against her pleasure point. And his mouth… it found hers again and again their tongues teasing each other talking of love and desire.

When she came it was quiet, her cry swallowed by Charles’ kiss. She sank back into the covers and her daughter kicked.

“Hello, little one,” Charles teased.