“Amore,” he said gently, “you haven’t actually had my body.”
“What?”
“You haven’t taken my body.”
“We sleep together every night.”
Mars grew still again, but this wasn’t stony.
He looked stunned.
I had no chance to ask after why he looked that way.
He spoke.
“Do you know what sex is?”
I felt my cheeks flame and answered tersely, “Yes.”
“You are certain?”
“Yes,” I snapped.
“So you’re aware that what I give you with my mouth and fingers, you can give me with your mouth, or fingers, or more importantly, other parts of your anatomy, and I can give the same to you using other parts of mine?”
The sound of my teeth clacking together rattled in my brain, I shut my mouth so fast.
“When I climax, I produce seed—” he went on.
“I know, I know, I know,” I interrupted him, waving a hand his way.
“Do you?” he asked. “Do you know that happens when I orgasm?”
Orgasm?
Oh…
Balls.
This was mortifying.
More, it was horrifying.
My husband had been seeing to me.
But I had not been seeing to my husband.
Good gods.
I knew he grew hard.
And I knew what came of that.
And I had an idea of how babies were made, his parts, my parts, what went where.
I just did not know, until he made it happen, that I could climax.
So I did not know that he could…
Gods.
But of course, he could. He’d even mentioned how difficult he found it, sleeping next to me night after night without “release.”
That was what he meant by “release.”
I just did not put it together.
I did not think.
And now that I was thinking, what I thought was I needed to get out of that room.
I sought to do this immediately.
I ran in the opposite direction of Mars.
I did not even make it to the door.
Both his arms closed around me, I was pulled back and held fitted against his frame.
I also had his mouth at my ear.
I closed my eyes tight.
And again felt the room.
Not aflame this time.
It was in inferno.
“By the fucking gods, those two should have every joint disconnected with how they raised you.”
I opened my eyes and stared, unseeing.
What?
“Your mother did not tell you of this?” he rumbled.
“N-no,” I stammered.
“She was with you, on your journey to Firenze, for weeks, and in my palace, for days, knowing you were to wed me imminently, and she did not sit down with you in all that time and share this?” he demanded.
“No, Mars,” I whispered.
“By the fucking gods,” he growled on a fierce squeeze.
“Mars, you…you’re holding on too tight.”
He relaxed his grasp.
Slightly.
“I do not want that maid,” he kept growling.
“All right.”
“I want my wife.”
“All right,” I continued whispering.
“I was giving you time to get used to me and our play, waiting for you to give indication you were ready to take it further, something you did not do.”
Oh balls.
“Because, apparently, not only didn’t you fucking know how,” he went on, “but because you also didn’t know there was anything further to do.”
I did not confirm what he’d already discovered.
I noted, “I-I’m sure this is not the easiest thing to discuss with your child.”
“We will be open and honest about the pleasures of the flesh with our children, Silence. They will know of it, they will know to expect to enjoy it, both sexes, and they will not be ashamed of it.”
“All right,” I repeated.
“And incidentally, you are not a child. You’re an adult. One who, those weeks ago, would imminently be wed.”
I could not argue that.
“Are you taking pennyrium?” he asked abruptly.
“Pennyrium?” I asked in return, stupidly.
He turned me in his arms but instantly imprisoned me in them again with my body held cinched to his.
“Pennyrium is a draught you can take—” he began to explain with reined impatience.
“I know what it is, Mars, I just…” Gods, I was daft. “There was no reason to take it.”
And there wasn’t, not because we weren’t having sex, but because I hadn’t thought of it, for I’d never had to before (pennyrium being the draught a woman took daily which (I had heard) was very good at guarding against pregnancy).
“Prior to sacking her, we’ll ask that maid to procure some so you can begin taking it immediately,” he declared.
I did not wish to be this type of person.
But she was the type of person who flirted with a woman’s husband.
So I did not have very many qualms in making this the last (and one of the only) chores Pegeen did before she was on her way.
However…
“But don’t you want a child?” I queried.
“Yes, I want several, but first, I want time to enjoy my wife, and also, if this Beast ever rises, I do not want her pregnant when we fight it.”
“Oh, right,” I mumbled.
He jostled me. “Silence.”
My gaze had fallen to his throat, so I lifted it to his face.
“The salute of the Trusted Ones, do you remember it?” he asked.
I was confused.
“The salute of the Trusted?”
“When you met my men and they pressed your hand to their heart and their stomach,” he explained.
I nodded. “Yes, I remember.”
“I ordered that salute altered when the men gave it to you.”
When he went no further, I asked, “Altered?”
“With another woman, or a man, in that instance, they would have had their hands pressed to my men’s hearts, and their cocks.”
“Oh,” I breathed.
“Yes,” he replied. “In other words, Silence, I do not want your hand anywhere near another man’s cock.”
Oh my.
“All right,” I said quietly.
“You are exceedingly responsive during bedplay.”
I pressed my lips together as my eyes got big.
“Because of this, it was my assumption, one I now know was mistaken, that you would greatly enjoy sex in its myriad varieties.”
Oh faith.
“There are women like Zosime who wants naught but Guard and he knows this, so he would never take another but his wife,” he shared. “This is why they suit, as Guard is a man who does not want another woman, but his wife. And there are women like Nyx who enjoys exploring different things. This is good, for Lorenz enjoys giving this to her. They also suit. I had no idea what kind of husband I would be, until I knew you’d had no one before me, which meant when I had you, you would never have anyone but me. And Silence,” he squeezed me, hard, and did this dipping his face to mine, “now that I know this is also your wish, you will have no other but me.”
I would have no other but him.
My heart squeezed.
And it did this with gladness.
“All right,” I breathed.
“And as it is your wish, I will have no one but you, and that suits me.”
But he’d just been flirting.
Thus, tentatively, I asked, “Are you sure?”
“I don’t know, I’ve not been inside you yet, but unless you suffer from a heretofore unknown condition that renders you catatonic the instant you take a cock, all evidence suggests I will not ever be disappointed.”
This made
me so glad, if I could jump with joy, I would.
Mars was holding me pinned to him, so I couldn’t.
Thus, instead, I muttered, “I don’t think that condition exists.”
“Let’s bloody hope not,” he grunted.
I wanted to laugh but was afraid to do so at that juncture for he appeared still to be cranky.
Therefore, I fell silent.
Mars also fell silent.
I eventually had to break it or start squirming under his stare.
“Are we done talking?” I asked.
“No,” he answered. “You should know, infidelity might be defined differently in Firenze, but it exists. No husband or wife takes a lover that is not known to the other or without the other present, either participating, or watching. It matters not to you. We have our accord. But you should know this as this will be your world, your way, and the way of the people around you.”
I nodded, for I agreed, I should know this.
“Further, an accusation of infidelity is taken very badly, my wife. Our society is such that this doesn’t happen often, for it needn’t, with this openness between lovers, between husband and wife. However, what is not different amongst our two realms is the understanding, to those who have shared vows, this act is considered the height of an abuse of trust. Thus, if an innocent is accused, it is the deepest affront. And in some clans and tribes, infidelity, if proved, can go punished. Depending on the clan or tribe, this punishment can range from a baron or chieftain granting the severance of a marriage to parts of a body being shorn free.”
“Oh my goodness,” I whispered.
“Yes,” he agreed, and then carried on, “And from this point forward, if you ever have any question about the ways of your people that you do not completely understand, you ask me, or Mama, so you do not make a blunder that will upset or embarrass you, or, say, make your husband very, very angry.”
I nodded again while biting my lip, for he was definitely right about that.
“At least this time it was but days I had to deal with what was eating at you before you shared it with me,” he declared. “Though, from the words you hurled at me, I would say this was what had actually taken you away from me all the way back in Firenze.”
What he said was right.
However…
Just a moment.
“You were chopping wood,” I reminded him.
“My ears still worked,” he returned.
“No, Mars, you were in a mood because you were angry at me and you said nothing to me about it.”
He appeared astonished for a moment before his face grew gentle.
“I did do that,” he murmured.
“And I didn’t hurl words. I was just upset.”
His lips twitched, and he kept murmuring when he said, “A poor choice of my words, amore.”
I huffed.
He gave me a squeeze.
And then he whispered, “I’m very sorry, mia bellezza. I should have spoken to you about what was troubling me.”
I loved it that he could apologize like that.
So quickly.
So sweetly.
“You’re forgiven,” I whispered in return.
“You are too, though I would have done that anyway, after what you said to your father.”
Balls and begorrah.
I had a feeling he had not just appeared in that doorway.
“How much did you hear?” I asked.
“It started around, ‘Do not endeavor to drive distance between my husband and myself.’”
“He was being vexing,” I muttered.
“I do not know what he’d been saying, but our conversation started with you demanding I dismiss that maid, so I could guess, and that is not vexing. That is him trying to drive distance between you and me, and that, my Silence, will not be tolerated.”
“I did share that with him, Mars,” I reminded him.
“There is a grave difference, my kindhearted wife, of how you will not tolerate something and how I won’t. You understand this, no?”
Eep!
“I wouldn’t like it if you separated all his joints,” I whispered.
“I would not do this to your father, but I would ruin him,” he returned unemotionally. “I would take everything from him that matters, and as much as I hate to share this with you, what matters to him is not you. But I would find it, whatever it is. And I would take it. And I would leave him knowing I had it, I took it, and he’ll never have it again. This conversation we’re having, the whole of it, is very important, including this. So I must know, is this something you understand?”
“He’s my father, Mars,” I told him.
“He is the man who sired you, Silence, there’s a vast fucking difference. You will not know this until you see how I will love and treasure our children. So now, no matter his ways and wiles in trying to convince you differently, you will simply have to trust me.”
I decided not to say anything further.
Mars didn’t say anything either.
We stared at each other.
It was me again who put a stop to it.
“Now are we done talking?”
“Indeed, we are, my queen, for now, although I will not enter you until you’re protected against conceiving, I will teach you how to pleasure me.”
I felt my eyes grow huge.
His face got close.
It had changed.
His voice had changed.
The feel of the room had changed.
I would not be surprised if the whole world had changed.
This as he whispered to me, “You have much to make up for, mio ardente.”
Oh faith.
I had no other thought or got no word in before he was kissing me.
And with that, I had no other thoughts but my husband’s mouth on mine and how much I liked it.
I was returning his embrace, enthusiastically, when he broke it.
I would have protested this, but I was too shocked to do so when he bent low, put a shoulder in my belly and hefted me up on it.
“Mars!” I exclaimed.
He did not reply to me.
He carried me across the room, saying, “You, the fair one. My wife needs a three-month supply of pennyrium. Go to the village and see to that,” right before he made a turn toward the stairs.
I lifted my head to see Pegeen (and Bernadette…and Olive) standing in the doorway Mars had lounged in earlier, staring at us with wide eyes.
I tried not to smirk.
I had a feeling I failed.
It was when he made the top landing that it came back to me where I was, where I was going and why.
Before I could comment on this, Mars made his own comment.
“It is good you’ll be doing all the work, piccolina, as I have tired myself out, chopping all that wood.”
I did not believe him for a second.
I did not have the opportunity to share that for he bumped me off his shoulder, I landed on my back on our bed, but my husband immediately grabbed my hips and flipped me to my belly.
That belly dipped, I felt my breasts swell in a pleasing manner, and both of these things happened again when I felt him tug sharply at the laces at the back of my gown.
“Mars,” I whispered.
They came loose, and I was flipped again to my back, then my skirts were tossed over my head.
Oh my.
I had a feeling I was going to find that it was rather fabulous to have your skirts tossed by a king.
If that king was your husband.
And that husband was Mars.
I felt his hands at my hips again, sliding up, taking my dress with it.
I lifted my arms, the dress was gone, and I was in nothing but my chemise, my corset and my panties.
Though, with a great sweep of his arm, I lost the panties.
I shivered in delight.
However…
I thought I was going to be pleasing him.
“Mars,” I
whispered again, lifting my head from the pillows and watching him press a kiss to the skin under my navel.
His beard tickled but that wasn’t the only reason why I trembled as he slid farther up, and I had his weight when he captured my lips.
I thought no more of pleasing him.
I thought only of kissing him and touching him, and this was what I did.
I heard his boots clunk to the floor as he toed them off, ignored it, and continued to kiss my husband.
I could not ignore his fingers curling into the material of the chemise that covered my breast, nor could I ignore him pulling it down.
Nor did I want to.
I gasped against his lips.
His lips disappeared, and he moved down so they could capture my nipple and draw deep.
At that, I whimpered, sliding my fingers into his hair and squirming beneath him.
“Mars, my love,” I breathed.
And felt his growl rumble against my nipple before I lost his mouth there and his face was in mine.
“What did you just call me?” he demanded.
I wasn’t listening.
I was fumbling with the laces at his waist on each side of his long-sleeved leather shirt.
“Silence,” he called.
“This must go,” I mumbled desperately.
He pushed up, yanked at the laces, then tore off the shirt.
All that skin.
The muscle.
Oh, yes.
I put my hands to it, rising, pressing and twisting to take him down to his back.
“Silence,” he gritted.
“Lie down,” I ordered.
“Bellezza.”
I squinted at his face and snapped, “You aren’t being very accommodating, my king.”
He lay down.
I climbed on top of him.
His large hands spanned my hips where they straddled his belly, and he whispered, “My Silence.”
I was again not listening.
All that skin available to me?
A feast.
I dipped in and went right for a nipple, like he’d done.
I lost a hand on my hip and got fingers clenched in my hair as he grunted, “Silence.”
Oh no.
My head shot up.
“Was that wrong?” I asked.
He lifted his head from the pillow and ordered roughly, “Do not stop.”
I stared at the expression on his face, the heat in his eyes, and something swept through me.
Something beautiful.
Something powerful.
No.
Something invincible.
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