Vanora’s hands went to his breeches and tugged at the waist ties but he brushed them away. Instead, he pulled the soft fabric up as he leaned down, his mouth on her stomach. Kinnon kissed and licked his way upwards, revealing every bit of skin that he hadn’t seen yet. He cupped her breasts as he moved, rolling her nipples between his fingers, sucking one into his mouth as his hand worked the other. Her hands were all over him, stroking his bare back as he played and teased her body’s most sensitive parts. Her legs pinned under him, leaving her the only option to arch up against his mouth and hand in want.
Their combined need drove Kinnon to move further up and he pulled the cloth over her head, claiming her mouth again as he ran his hand down her smooth skin, over the soft fuzz between her legs and finally against her inner lips. He stroked her there, her juices coating his fingers, showing just how ready she was for him. He stood then and stripped what was left of his own clothes slowly, leaving her whimpering for his touch as she watched, his cock standing full and hard.
“I think you’ve something else to take care of now,” he said.
Vanora blushed furiously but he saw the spark in her eyes that challenged him to step forward. She leaned towards him then, her tongue flicking out at the tip of his cock and he threw his head back with a groan. It had been so long and he wanted her so much. She took the opportunity given and wrapped her arm around his waist, pulling him forward just enough to take him into her mouth. She licked at the underside of him, sucking him deeper and he almost came. His hand flew to her hair and he gripped it, restraining himself while urging her to make it last. She moaned with his touch though and the vibrations made him lean over her to brace himself on the bed.
“Gods, woman! Stop that or this will be over far too soon.”
Vanora pulled away from him and giggled, a mischievous look in her eyes as he caught his breath.
“Oh, if you want to play, we’ll play.” Kinnon caught a hand on her hip and flipped her to her side, landing one hard, quick slap to her ass cheek. She squealed and jumped but he was too quick, kneeling behind her as she tried to get further up on the bed. He reached up and caught her shoulder so she could go no further and pulled her back. Using one hand to guide himself, he found her pussy wet and hot and he stroked the tip against her, immediately causing her to a moan. Her head fell to the bed as she pushed back against him.
“Ohh, yes,” she whispered.
Kinnon swatted her ass again, feeling her skin warm to his touch. “What was that?”
Vanora cried out and lurched backwards against him. “Yes, I said!”
Another swat to the other cheek. “Yes what?”
“Take me!”
“That much I can do.” Kinnon pushed forward and inside of her at last. While she wasn’t untouched, his lover was far tighter than he expected, dragging a groan from his throat as he entered her. He was barely inside before she gasped. He ran the fingertips of his hand down her back as he slowly moved forward, sending tingles of pleasure across her skin. With every new inch that sunk into her she whimpered, her hips pushing back at him as he stretched her a little more each time.
When Kinnon had most of his cock buried in her he stopped, his eyes closed in the feeling of her soft, wet walls wrapped around him. A low groan from her brought his hands across her back as he leaned forward slightly. “You like that do you?” he said.
“Mm-hmm.” Her moan was barely heard but he gave one final push and the gasping cry she gave was full throated, bringing her to her hands and knees with the force of it.
The wait was over then. Kinnon was tired of drawing it out and she was shaking with the time he’d taken in getting her ready. He started to move, pulling out of her with a slow and steady pace. She was already slick, her juices coating him. Her long, low moans urged him on and he gave in, gripping her hips as he started to push back in. She tightened around his cock with the feeling of his hands on her and he squeezed in time with his thrusts, feeling her reaction.
Kinnon pounded his hips into hers, skin against skin as he picked up the pace, his lover writhing on the bed below him. Just as she seemed to relax into the rhythm he had going, he raised his hand and brought it down in a sharp swat to her right ass cheek. The suddenness brought her back against him and she arched up. As she did, he leaned forward, reaching under her to grasp at her left breast, rolling the nipple between her fingers, tugging every time his cock pulled out of her. Every movement pulled a sound from her, small squeaks that turned into whimpers, all of them driving him closer and closer to the edge. He felt her tighten around him in an instant as she hit her peak, every muscle tightening with harder, faster thrusts. His cock kept moving in and out of her, drawing her climax out until she had to gasp for air, her fists clenched tight in the cloth beneath them. Her walls kept vibrating around him, and that pushed him over the edge not a minute later so that he bent over her back, thrusting harder as he came, coating her already-wet insides.
Kinnon wrapped one arm around her stomach and pulled Vanora down with him as her knees shook and his arm wouldn’t hold them up any longer. They both lay there for a moment, catching their breath.
“Don’t you ever scare me like that again,” he said, wrapping his arm around her waist even tighter as he lay behind her, nestled in the big bed.
“The big brute can be scared?”
Kinnon kissed the back of her neck. “Only sometimes.”
Vanora was quiet for a time, and he thought she had fallen asleep until her shoulders began to shake. He rose up on one elbow and looked down at her.
“Are you laughing, woman?”
Vanora turned and slipped her hand down in-between them, grasping him with her fingers while her eyes sparkled with happiness and lust. “If scaring you leads to this every time, maybe I’ll have to do it more often.”
THE WEDDING NIGHT
by Sara Peal
To the single ladies of New York City, there was no bachelor more desired than Thomas Brockeford. For me, almost ten years his junior, becoming the wife of such a travelled and intelligent man was both a dream come true and a very intimidating prospect.
After the ceremony was over, Mother said that she’d never seen a finer, more beautiful wedding anywhere. She saved the clipping from the newspaper article announcing my engagement to Thomas and offered it to me, framed, as a wedding present. She talked on and on and I kept nodding, only catching a word here and there, still in a daze from it all.
Part of me was scared for the wedding night. Mother had told me in an ominous tone that I should do my utmost to allow my new husband to take his pleasure from me. Her words did nothing to soothe my fears and I could not stop thinking about the shiver that ran through me when he kissed me at the chaplain’s final words. “You are now husband and wife” the man said, and Thomas laid his lips on mine, in front of everyone, for the very first time.
“Thomas, dear,” said Mother to my husband ― how strange it was to think of him that way ― “you should take Elizabeth to your room. She looks exhausted.”
“Yes, Mother,” he replied, and I smiled at the way he spoke to her. He took my arm and cleared his throat loudly. The room fell silent as all the guests turned their attention to the two of us. “Can I have your attention,” he said in a loud, clear voice. “My poor Elizabeth is tired after such a long day.”
A chorus of murmured whispers rang through the crowd, a mix of poor thing’s and of course’s.
“We now bid you farewell in the hope that you will continue to enjoy yourselves this evening.”
Thomas turned to Mother and bowed. “And to you, Madam, I am most grateful for the loveliest gift a man can receive.” He smiled as Mother blushed, then he bowed to the crowd again.
“Good night,” he added. Thomas took my arm, led me out of the ballroom and up the stairs to the farthest corner of Mother’s house. Mother had assured me that she would not mind staying at her sister’s until we left, as no other home was as suitable as her own for the wedding. The ma
ster bedroom was prepared for our overnight stay until we left for our honeymoon in Vienna the following week.
I leaned on my new husband’s arm as we climbed up the steps, thinking of what was about to happen. Had he ever undressed a woman? Would he know what to do? Would he know how to unlace my corset without tangling up the cords? And what would happen afterwards? Would he dress me in my nightgown? Would I dress him in his?
“You’re very quiet, my darling,” Thomas said in a calm voice.
I looked up at him, his face in strange lights and shadows from the oil lamps in the corridor. “Just tired.”
I tried to smile, but I think it must have come out crooked because Thomas stopped just a few steps from the stairs and turned to face me. “Have I ever told you how precious you are to me?” His voice had dropped and there was a need in it I’d only heard once or twice before, when Mother had seen fit to leave us alone for a few minutes, unchaperoned.
I caressed his cheek, the stubble on his skin a little rough on my hand through the lace of my glove. “You have, my Thomas.”
He turned his face to kiss the inside of my hand. “The first thing I am going to do when I close the door of our room is to remove your gloves and finally feel your hand on mine.”
I managed a proper smile this time.
Thomas huffed. “I don’t understand why it’s so scandalous for a man to touch a young woman’s hand until after she’s married,” he said, resuming his walking. “As if the act itself is disgraceful somehow, or it might taint her and convince her into committing some kind of immortal sin.”
He huffed again and stopped in front of the door to the master bedroom. He turned to me and smiled ― the softest, gentlest smile he’d ever given me in all the years I had known him. “My darling Elizabeth.” For a moment he said nothing, simply looking at me as we stood there.
My heart pounded, blood rushing in my ears. I was grateful for his silence. So many feelings and emotions ran through me as I stared into his eyes. The immeasurable love I felt for him burned in my chest. I had complete faith and trust in him, yet the fear and thrill of our first night together made my palms sweaty and my knees tremble a little.
“I love you,” Thomas said. His voice was soft and rich.
“I love you too.” In my heart, it felt as if I was saying “I do” all over again, that I would devote myself to him in all things, including our first night together.
He opened the door and we stepped inside. As promised, the first thing he did was remove my gloves. Then he entwined his fingers with mine, as we had so many times through fabric, and brought our conjoined hands to his lips so that he could kiss one finger at a time. I smiled at the feel of his hot skin. With each kiss, my mind wandered, and my breath quickened at each fleeting thought of kisses elsewhere on my body. I didn’t know where those strange images came from, but in every one of them, there was me and there was Thomas, together.
“Now, my darling,” he said, “this is what I’m going to do: I will undress you, and feast upon the sight of your naked body.”
I swallowed hard, my heart suddenly pounding. Mother never mentioned allowing him to see me nude. I stared at him, unable to speak. A deep sense of embarrassment rooted me to the floor, but even more disconcerting was the feeling that I wanted him to do exactly what he said. For every thought of shame that crossed my mind, a bolder and wilder thought of lust appeared.
“I am your husband now, Elizabeth. You needn’t fear me.”
I took a few deep breaths, trying to steady my heartbeat. “It isn’t fear, Thomas. It’s …” I struggled to find the right words.
He raised his hand to my cheek and caressed it with the back of his fingers. “I’m here, my darling. I will cherish you and protect you from all unwanted things.”
I rubbed my face against his knuckles and nodded. He wanted this, and there was no doubt in my mind that I wanted it as well. We were husband and wife now, bound together in love under God’s law. Why not surrender to our desires?
He began with my boots, kneeling down to unlace them and remove them from my feet. Every move he made was slow and deliberate. Not from hesitation, but as if he was savoring the simple pleasure of his actions. My heart was still pounding, but it became harder to distinguish fear from thrill, shame from expectation, embarrassment from lust.
“Thomas?”
He looked up at me.
“Shall I remove my jewelry on my own? And let down my hair?”
“Oh, no, darling. No, not at all.” He smiled, and there was a glint in his eyes I had never seen before, a mix of awe and mischief that sent a shudder down my spine.
Thomas stood up, reached behind me, and unfastened the necklace I wore tight around my neck and laid it on the table beside us. He caressed the skin of my throat with one hand as he other toyed with my earrings, but never took them off. Instead, he focused on the pins on my hair, removing them one by one, until my light brown curls fell over my shoulders. He ran his fingers through my hair for a moment and then pulled me to him. He buried his nose in my tresses and took a long deep breath, as if he wanted to know what I smelled like.
I giggled, shaking a little in his arms.
“And what exactly is so funny?” he asked.
“You’re smelling my hair.”
“Of course I am. I want to know what you smell like, all of you.”
I pulled back from him, raising an eyebrow. “All of me?”
Thomas reached down and kissed my neck slowly, dragging his tongue across my skin. For a moment, I thought I was going to faint. I clutched his lapel to steady myself, all the while wishing he would never stop.
“All of you, Elizabeth,” he whispered as he released me.
I breathed in deep, trying to control the dizziness, as Thomas unfastened lace and buttons. Back to front, front to back, to my left, to my right, he moved in careful and gentle ways until finally he reached down and pulled my wedding dress up over my head.
I shivered, feeling my skin raise in gooseflesh. I could hardly blame it on the cold though, as the fire burning in the fireplace kept the room warm enough.
He looked at me again, and the glint in his eyes took my breath away. Suddenly, my corset felt hot and stifling. I wanted it gone, ripped from me so that I could breathe. A strange heat began to build inside me, something I’d never felt before. I couldn’t look at him, and I couldn’t look away, either. My mouth felt dry with a sudden need, and it took me only a moment to realize that the need was to kiss him. My fists clenched and released as my fingers ached with some strange new restlessness.
I finally mustered enough courage to step back, away from him. “What is this? What’s happening to me?”
He cocked his head to the side and one corner of his mouth pulled up. “What are you talking about, Elizabeth? What do you mean what is happening to you? Can you explain?”
I paced the floor, not even caring that all I had on were my undergarments. “I don’t know if I can explain,” I said in a whisper. “It feels so strong … but it’s foreign as well. As if I’m somehow possessed by a will other than my own.”
“And what does this will ask of you?”
I felt my face turn bright red and looked at the floor as images of skin on skin and lips against lips flickered in my mind. I knew there were darker things, things merely hinted at as my mind could not perceive what it did not know, but I knew my heart harbored those desires. My face burned, my skin burned, the heat inside me burned, and the corset felt tighter and tighter. I could no longer understand if my desire to be rid of it was because of how stifling it felt, or if it was because I felt the need to stand naked before the man I loved.
“It asks me…” I struggled to find the right words. “It’s as if I wished to have you surrender to me, to my body, to my desire and pleasure.” As soon as the words left my mouth, I covered it with my hands. Part of me feared he would be upset at me for speaking such lustful thoughts.
Instead, his face took on a look of triumph.
Thomas exhaled hard and smiled wide. He wanted me, of that I had no doubt, and I wondered if the burning flame was as fierce inside of him as it was inside of me. He unlaced my corset without a word and I raised my arms as he did, looking up at the ceiling and wondering why it was so hot in that room in the middle of December. He removed the remaining undergarments and my stockings and then he stepped back.
I could feel my nipples hard and pert, my hair falling over my shoulders and, in my pride, I looked straight at him. His hand covered his mouth as his chest rose and fell with hard breathing.
“Good God, you are magnificent,” he whispered. It seemed to me that he didn’t mean for me to hear him, as if his thoughts were too loud to be contained.
I placed one foot forward, wanting to close the gap between us, but he raised his hand and shook his head. I steadied myself, my hands at my sides. Even though I was now fully nude, my chest still felt too tight to breathe. Watching him look at me made me uneasy, fueling that heat that burned inside of me and making my mind run wild with lust and need.
“I want…” He spoke in a low, deep voice, and then cleared his throat. “I want to marvel at you.”
My breath caught in my throat. “Do I please you that much, Thomas?”
“My darling, you have no idea. You really have no idea.”
I blushed at his words, but my hands still ached and my mouth was still dry. It felt as if the flame inside was spreading heat throughout my body, with a special focus right between my legs. I sometimes felt a faint desire to touch there, especially when I thought about Thomas late at night. A friend had once described the strange and pleasurable tingling she felt when riding a horse, and I wondered if the sensation was similar. But now, the flame burned hotter and hotter and that desire for touch increased.
A new sensation arose, a feeling of moisture, of wetness between my legs. My heart pounded against my ribcage at the thought that I had emptied my bladder somehow, but in an instant I pushed the thought aside. This felt different. It was as if the flame was responsible; the hotter it burned, the wetter I became, and the wetter I became, the more I longed to be touched. I wanted to ask Thomas if he knew what this need was, where it came from, this hunger for him, but he just stared at me, the crazed lust in his eyes growing as he scanned all of me.
A Spank in Time Page 8