Chapter 10

Paul nodded, unable to speak.

“Come on over,” she murmured, adjusting herself on the bed and pulling him between her legs.

Martha wrapped her legs around his waist, tugging him into her. Paul wanted to unleash himself, but Martha kept him under control with her legs and arms, holding him against her until he relaxed.

“This isn’t a race. Take your time.”

Paul nodded, holding his breath as he slid out and thrust into her again. She dug her nails into his flesh, throwing back her head, arching towards him. The desire to taste her overwhelmed him. He kissed every bit of skin he could reach, lingering over her neck, her throat, the swell of her breasts.

The candle puffed out, a blanket of darkness falling around them. She surrounded him in every way—all he could feel, all he could hear, all he wanted to touch. The sound of her breath, the musky scent of her skin, the way she clenched him, pulled him, moved beneath him. He fell into her again and again in the shadows.3