Read In the Marshal's Arms for Free Online

lowered her there, and stood over her, waiting for her protest. Instead, she reached for him. He took her hand, pressed his mouth to her palm, and knelt beside her.
    Before his good sense could return, she sat up, gripping his arm for balance while she worked the buttons of his shirt with the other.
    “I’ve wanted to do this,” she said, releasing his arm to slide her hand inside, over the hair of his chest, her fingers stroking.
    He closed his eyes against the flare of lust. Never had he known a woman so bold. Again, his conscience tried to question him, but he shut it down, stripping his shirt off and lowering himself over her. She glided her hands over his shoulders and down his arms, her fingertips dancing in the ridges of muscle.
    “Do you know what you’re doing to me?” he asked.
    Her eyelashes drifted upward, and the sultry expression in her eyes told him she knew just what. He lowered his mouth to hers. Their tongues tangled, breath mingled, and he forgot all about the cold as he inhaled her scent. She arched her back to rub her breasts against him, the wool of her dress scratchy. He eased back and looked down at the row of buttons, his desire-fogged mind unable to figure out how to work them. She laughed and began unhooking them herself. He knelt and watched the fabric fall away to reveal her lawn shift and her generous breasts. She eased up on her elbows to wriggle out of the dress and he was mesmerized by the sway of her bosom. They were works of art, full and white, with rosy nipples twisted tight. He coasted his hand down the slope of one and thumbed the tip with the pad of his thumb. Maddy gasped and pressed her breast into his palm.
    “Please,” she said, her voice throaty.
    The chill permeated for a moment, long enough for him to reach beneath them to yank back the blankets and roll her beneath him, before he lowered his mouth and sucked her nipple into his mouth.
    Her cry of delight echoed in the small room, and she wrapped her arms around his head, holding him to her. He pressed the tender bud against the roof of his mouth, then drew on it before releasing it with a pop and turning his attention to the other. She wriggled beneath him, pushing her chemise down farther.
    “Let me—the dress,” she murmured.
    He didn’t want to let her go, but neither did he want to shove up her skirts and plow into her. She deserved better, and damn, he wanted to hold her, treat her right, feel her come, make her come.
    “It’s been a long time,” he said when she sat up and tugged her dress free, then unfastened her petticoats, one at a time. He helped her pull them down her legs, rolled off her stockings, and then she wore only her shift. Her whole body was pink, flushed with desire, but pebbled with chills.
    “Get under the blankets, Maddy.”
    She did, then watched as he stood and pushed his own pants down. Her lower lip dropped as she stared at his cock, curving up as if beckoning to her. She pushed back the blankets enough so he could see her peel her shift over her head, beautifully naked and waiting for him.
    He slid onto the cold sheets next to her and drew the blankets over both of them before he reached for her. She squeaked when his cold hand touched her waist, but then she nestled closer, sliding her hand down his chest to close around his erection. His hips jerked toward her, sliding his cock against her smooth palm. Never had his wife touched him like that, stroked him, and he couldn’t help himself from pumping into her grasp.
    “Maddy, I—” With the ultimate will, he broke contact. He turned her onto her back and returned his attention to her breasts, molding them between his hands, tasting her nipples, stroking the texture of them with the tip of his tongue. He trailed his nails down her belly to stroke the curls of her womanhood, then dipping between her thighs. A moan escaped him as he found her wet for him. He teased the petals of her sex apart and teased the hard nub at the