February 5, 2011

Saturday's Salacious Suggestions - The Texan's Irish Bride

Warning: Explicit sex.
Why hadn’t Ma been more exact in her descriptions of what went on between man and woman? She’d only told Cenora to wear her best nightrail and be prepared to raise it and do as her husband requested. Ma had promised it would be a bit rough the first time, but after that a pleasant enough thing. Oh, but the part about a rough first time had Cenora scared half to death.

She knew how men were built, of course. Hadn’t she helped Mrs. Murphy care for a string of Murphy boys? What a difference between a babe and this man, though. Nigh long as her arm, his willie poked against her side.

She shivered again in fear, but then her man did something with his tongue on her nipple and she forgot to be afraid. Warmth pooled in her belly and she writhed about like one of the snakes good St. Paddy drove out of Ireland. Saints forgive her, she couldn’t help herself. Her husband’s pleasuring created yearnings she never dreamed existed.

She pulled him to her, crushing his head to her breast but he skimmed his mouth lower across her. His tongue dipped into her belly button and she fought to keep from throwing her legs around the man. No doubt he already thought her and her family wild, heathen people. What would he think of her if she gave in to her pagan impulses?

He moved back to her mouth, then trailed kisses along her shoulders. Though she vowed she’d let him tell her what to do in this coming together, her hand brushed his manhood and she saw him close his eyes and gasp.

“Does that please you?” she asked and, though afraid he would think her too bold, moved her finger across the top of the shaft.

He closed his eyes again. “More than I can tell you.”

“Your willie is lovely and soft on top, not at all as it looked.” Though the length was hard and long, the velvet tip surprised her.

“My what?” He opened his eyes in question.

“Your willie. This,” she said and touched his man part again. She smoothed her finger around the top in a small circle.

He seemed to hold his breath, then he grasped her hand. “Lord have mercy, woman. You’d best stop before I get ahead of you. Let me pleasure you more.”

He suckled her breast and his hand slid to her privates. Gently he pushed her legs apart and slid his finger inside her. When his thumb brushed against the nub of her womanhood, jolts of delectable joy radiated through her being. She heard herself pant and moan, knew she thrashed her head to and fro, but lost the power to control herself. In and out he delved and her hips kept time with him. Each movement increased her delight.

Jesus, Mary and Joseph, how could anything feel better than this?

Oh, no, now she’d taken the Lord’s name in vain, and under what libertine conditions? Sure and she’d have to do a penance but she no longer cared. When she thought she would explode, he slid on top of her and the tip of his shaft nudged against her.

“Slide your legs around me,” he commanded, sounding as breathless as she felt.

Now wasn’t that what she wanted to do anyway? She wound her legs around his waist and he put a pillow at her back. He slipped into her and the force of it pushed her against the pillow. Oh, it would never work, no matter what he said. He was too large.

She marveled when she stretched around him, felt him fill her and push deeper. Surprised he could get that big thing inside her, she had a few moments to enjoy the feel of him. Then he pushed into her and she would have screamed for him to stop when pain tore at her, but his mouth covered hers.

Before she could break his kiss and demand he stop or she’d split in two, the pain lessened and a new sensation took over. Wave after wave of pleasure shot through her and she met his thrusts with her own. No longer could she see or think, only float on the bursts of ecstasy surging through her, building inside her.

When she thought she might expire from delight, fireworks burst in her head and she almost shattered from pure pleasure. A final spiral of joy exploded in her and she drifted back to earth as Dallas collapsed beside her. He cradled her to him, gasping and spent.

“Dang, you’re a fast learner.” He kissed her hair softly.

The buy link for THE TEXAN’S IRISH BRIDE is www.thewildrosepress.com/caroline-clemmons-m-638.html

Thanks for stopping by. Y’all come back.

Caroline Clemmons writes romance and adventures—although her earliest made up adventures featured her saving the West with Roy Rogers. Her career has included stay-at-home mom (her favorite job), newspaper reporter and featured columnist, assistant to the managing editor of a psychology journal, and bookkeeper. She and her husband live in rural North Central Texas with a menagerie of rescued pets. When she’s not writing, she enjoys spending time with family, reading, travel, browsing antique malls and estate sales, and genealogy/family history. Her latest releases include THE TEXAN’S IRISH BRIDE, OUT OF THE BLUE, and SNOWFIRES.  Read about her at www.carolineclemmons.com and http://carolineclemmons.blogspot.com. She loves to hear from readers at caroline@carolineclemmons.com

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