by Raine Miller
Imogene loved how he could show his affection for her so easily, a romantic at heart. She continued to stare at the closed door for a long time after he was gone. The room grew quiet.
Nervousness rose up her throat, rousing her. She rang for the maid. Hester entered the room and took charge, much to Imogene’s relief, chattering away about the beauty of her garments, her jewellery, and the excitement of the day, helping to fill the tense silence in the room. She assisted Imogene out of her wedding gown and into a quick bath, and finally into a filmy nightdress. Her hair was unpinned and brushed out. The bed was turned down. The fire stirred. A tray laid with refreshment.
“Will there be anything else I can do for you tonight, Lady Rothvale? And may I say, my lady, you look very beautiful.”
“No, nothing. I am well. Thank you, Hester.”
“Madam, on behalf of the staff here, we offer our sincerest congratulations and best wishes upon your marriage. If there is anything you need, anything at all, please ring so that I may serve you.”
“My thanks, Hester, you have made me feel very comfortable here.”
“Goodnight, Lady Rothvale.”
The sound of Hester’s steps now retreating down the corridor slowly faded away until quiet once again filled the room.
Lady Rothvale. I shall have to get used to being called that. She sighed at the thought and went to pour herself a glass of wine, hoping some spirits might settle her. She tried to sip the wine, but had little success because her stomach was a knot of nerves. What will he do exactly? What am I supposed to do? I am nervous. I want to please him. Aunt Wilton said it might hurt the first time. Oh, dear God!
IN his own room, Graham was pacing the floor in his robe, his hair unbound, swaying with his steps, contemplating his own anxiety as he turned the handle of the connecting door. Gentle and slow. She’s a virgin. Help me to do this without terrifying her. I hope I can manage to—
The door swung open with a groaning creak, ending his absurd nervousness. It was time to claim his bride once and for all. The chamber was lit softly with candles and the glow from the fire when he stepped in, but he did not see her.
“Chérie? Where are you?”
“I am here,” she answered, her voice tremulous.
He followed the sound to the dressing screen where she stood behind it, the outline of her shape showing clearly in shadow. “Do you need more time, chérie?”
“No.” He plainly saw the shaking of her head.
“Then why are you still back behind there? Are you hiding?”
“No…I don’t know,” she whispered.
“Are you afraid, chérie? I hope not. You’re so lovely. I can tell just by seeing your shadow through the screen.” He saw her take in a deep breath. “I’ve seen you before in your nightdress, you know…and you were so beautiful then. ’Twas only a week ago, that night in the library, and you weren’t scared.” He heard a little gasp come from her. “Can you come out, chérie? I want to see you, and hold you in my arms. I love you so much, and I just want to show you, that is all.”
Silence met his entreaty.
Patience… Give her what she needs.
“I’ll wait until you are ready to come out,” whispering the last part very softly, but knowing she heard, he saw her breathing get faster before she started to move out from behind the screen.
Glinting hair flowed over her shoulders and down her back; her gown had slipped a bit off one shoulder, the hem of it making a slight train. The shawl he’d given her was wrapped around her shoulders, but it had slipped down as well.
Glorious.
“Chérie, you take my breath away.” He bowed to her first, and then held out his arms. It was the perfect gesture to break the tension, just what she needed apparently, because she came right into his embrace. To hold her, finally, after the long day’s events was pure heaven. He tilted her chin up, “I do not have speech to express how beautiful you were just now, standing there for me.”
“Your hair is loosed,” she said in answer, reaching a hand up to smooth a portion lovingly behind his ear. “That I may see you like this,” she whispered, completely unaware of the effect her words were having on him.
Graham bent and took her lips. Gently at first, he held her and kissed caressingly in the only way he knew how to be with her.
No more waiting to make you mine.
SHE felt his teeth graze her lips as the kisses grew stronger and more insistent. He pushed his tongue into her mouth and tasted. She followed his lead, but the pace escalated quickly, and soon all possession of her mouth was completely taken over by him. It was a conquering; there was no other way to describe what he was doing.
She stiffened a little in his arms and he felt her. Pulling back right away, he searched her face. “Chérie? Are you afraid? Does this worry you?”
“A little,” she admitted. She took in a deep breath, trying to be brave. “I feel—I do feel your love, but I confess it is—” she swallowed hard, “I am unsure about how to—how to be a proper wife to you—”
He stopped her by gently placing his fingers over her mouth and whispered, “Let me love you. Never have fear of pleasing me, Imogene. If you were any more pleasing to me, I’d probably not be able to bear it.” He brought his hands to her face; one stroked her cheek with his thumb, the other, her hair. “I want you to think back to the time before the wedding, when this had to be held in check for the sake of propriety?”
She nodded in remembrance, feeling her neck and shoulders flushing with heat.
Smiling admiringly, he remarked, “It is so very pretty when you blush for me.” He feathered kisses along her neck and throat in between his words. “Now, we do not have to hold back. Things are finally as they should be between us, chérie. Please do not fear it…do not…do not ever have fear of me.” Returning to her lips, he resumed the kissing, slower now, but just as demanding as before.
“Just relax, chérie, and let me—”
Being touched, surrendering to him in this way, did feel divine. She gasped in a deep breath of air at the touch of his tongue on her neck.
He moved back to look deep into her eyes as his hands began slipping off her shawl. “I want…I want to see you, chérie?” It was whispered in the way of a request.
She nodded her agreement with the slightest movement of her head, and it was enough for him to proceed. Her shawl was laid on the settee, and his hands came to the ties of her gown. As he worked to untie them, Imogene met her husband’s gaze and was mesmerized by the look of longing to be seen in his green eyes. She remembered Aunt Wilton’s words: ‘He will lead you in the ways of what he desires.’ He wanted to see her—all of her. And he was going to.
Oh, I cannot breathe. He is—he’s taking it off!
The ties undone, he pushed it open to her shoulders. The fabric began to slip off and bunch at her waist. The weight of the gown caused it to continue to fall, slipping lower until gravity took over, sliding it completely off her body and into a pool on the floor. It required everything she had to keep her hands from clutching back her gown to cover herself.
She was bared to him and his raking eyes.
He stared, his eyes moving over her from head to toe. Graham studied her naked body as she tried to remain standing for him, and to remember to take in breaths of air.
“You are resplendent, chérie. You look like Botticelli’s painting of Venus—‘Venus Rising From the Sea’ with your hair streaming down over you.”
The next thing she knew Graham had swept her off her feet and was carrying her toward the bed. She felt so slight in his strong arms as he tenderly laid her onto the mattress, supporting her head before he released her, gazing down at her for a moment.
“I am undone by how lovely you are. Do not fear this, chérie. It is just me and I going forward together. I love you with all my heart.” He said the words to her as he untied his robe. Slowly he shrugged it off his big shoulders until it fell down his back, and then he opened it and allowed it
to fall away down to the floor.
His shoulders were not the only part of him that was big. Imogene knew what a cock was, but she’d never seen an adult male cock, and not in the condition which Graham’s appeared at this moment, so rigid and…enormous. Dear God, how on earth would this work between them?
Imogene remembered the part of Aunt Wilton’s advice about allowing him to lead her, and trusting him. The more she looked, the more she became unable to look away from the beauty of his body, so hard, and strong, and pulsing with need. For her. Imogene understood that much. He wanted her, but he was also asking her to accept him. He needed a kind of consent from her.
She opened her arms to him and he took her invitation swiftly, joining her on the bed, pressing his hard body up against her much smaller and softer one. As soon as she offered herself to him, an understanding seemed to fall into place, and Graham took the lead.
Hands and mouth moved over her, exploring, tasting, and giving pleasure to her senses. Especially when he put his mouth to her breasts and took her nipples into his mouth and sucked on them.
Imogene completely and utterly gave herself up to him and what he was doing. She yielded, mentally as well as physically. It was the only way for her to get through the experience, as she could hardly comprehend it. His touches were shocking in their liberty and all-consuming in their intimacy. He brought his fingers to her cunny and stroked the sensitive nub at the centre, making her sex wet and slippery. She could not imagine anything past the next second in time as she bore the pleasurable sensations his touch brought. Would it continue forever? How did it end? She trembled, moving under him, needing something, anything to complete this sense of teetering, but never falling. She became desperate. “Graham, please—”
He silenced her with his mouth. “I know…I know.”
His eyes locked onto hers as he crawled up her body and moved her legs apart, bending them at the knees. Staring at her nakedness again, his eyes widened at the sight of her spread open and exposed no doubt. She could hardly comprehend what was happening to her—
“You’re so perfectly beautiful, Imogene,” he whispered as he lowered his hips to align with hers.
She started to shake, impassioned and nearly out of her mind when she felt the kiss of what was certainly the tip of his cock at her cunny. She closed her eyes.
“It is well, my beautiful chérie,” he soothed her. “Please do not be afraid…you’re ready for me…you are. You’re so beautiful right now. God.” His forearms rested on either side of her. His breath came quicker as he held her face with a hand. “Look at me. Look into my eyes. I want your eyes on mine…so you can see how much I love you when I—”
She opened her eyes and felt a great pressure pushing in at her sex.
Graham held her face to him and thrust forward with his hips, his green eyes flaring wide.
“Ohhhhh,” she cried out as a sharp stab of pain broke through the waves of sensual pleasure she’d felt before.
Graham groaned over her but held the side of her face up to him, waiting for her to settle and become used to the feeling of him inside her. He remained still, but continued to stroke her hair and face, to kiss over her lips and jaw. “You feel so good, so perfect,” he said lovingly.
After a few moments he began to move his hips, shallowly at first, sliding his cock in and out in a steady rhythm. The sensation was one of great pressure more so than pain for Imogene, but still overwhelming in feeling as well as mind, for she had to accept what was actually happening between them.
Bodies moved, lips kissed, pushing, pulling, sliding, stroking skin-on-skin at the most intimate of places. Captor to captive, husband to wife, lover to lover, they began the ancient rite. His movements started slowly, but then gained in strength and intensity as he took total possession of her. He claimed her body, plundered her, made her his. Time paused, didn’t matter. She sensed his need and let herself go. It was her way of accepting this new experience. He was different than he had ever been with her before, uninhibited and utterly impassioned when she felt him grow even larger and impossibly harder inside her.
Graham cried out her name in a deep guttural groan, thrusting hard and deep one last time before shuddering over her, looking like a beautiful pagan god from a Greek myth.
GRAHAM collapsed down to his side and pulled her firmly, possessively against him, not capable of much more than just holding on to her. His arm and leg were strewn over her, his head nestled right in above her shoulder. For now, he just floated along in the ocean of her. Heaven. Bliss. Love. Relief. Mine.
He felt Imogene’s fingers moving through his hair. She was quiet. They stayed like this for moments, hours, days; who knew, for time ceased to be. He kissed her shoulder and caressed. Then he opened his eyes. She remained on her back. Her profile was stunning in the firelight; her dark golden hair spread about wildly on the sheets; breasts bared for him to see and touch; brown eyes looking toward the ceiling; graceful lashes sweeping up; red lips parted and swollen from all the pillaging he’d done. He saw a streak of water reaching from the corner of her eye to her hair. With a stab to his insides so sharp it burned, Graham realized it was a tear. She is crying? No! Please, no…
He shot up, looming over her.
“Imogene, have I hurt you? I can’t bear it if I have. Are you all right? Was I a beast? Why do you weep?”
Panic overtaking, he fired questions at her, dreading that his worst fear had come true: that he had given pain, and terrified her. She couldn’t possibly understand how she affected him. He couldn’t help it. He became completely crazed, a senseless creature who could think of nothing but possessing her. He should have gone slower, been gentler. It was her first time. He despaired, agonizing at the idea of her distress. Damn me to the bowels of hell.
She turned her face to look at him. “No. I am fine…and well. I do not know why I weep, truly, I cannot say. I felt suddenly overcome. Emotional. It stirred me and…it was powerful of sensation. I feel close to you. I am ignorant of this I know, but you did not hurt me, nor are you a beast. You could never be that, Graham. ” She brought her hand to his face and reassured him. “I’ll have to learn what you need to please you better. I am bereft for words to explain...” She pushed her face into his shoulder as if she might be feeling shy.
“And you believe that you did not satisfy me well enough just now? That I find you wanting in the experience?” He was incredulous.
Imogene nodded just a fraction, her face still pressed against him.
“That is not possible.” Relief flooded through him that she was not offended by the fucking. He brushed his fingers under her chin, and forced her to look at him. “Let me relieve you of your anxiety, chérie. I was spent from the pleasure of you. I simply could not speak any words. Time ceased to be present, so lost was I…in you. I have dreamed of making love to you for so long. I was out of my mind with desire for you. We will learn together, but you must know, my lovely, brave Imogene, that you were perfect in every way, and I am very, very pleased.” The thought she believed she did not please him enough was so absurd, he almost laughed. But he did not. Instead he kissed her gently, letting his hair curtain over her face; feeling her relax and melt into him was a comfort. He wanted her to know she was his precious treasure.
He relished the feel as her hand idly began stroking his hair once more, her other hand grazing over his skin. The warmth from the fire radiated throughout the room. Graham knew the cause of her worries. Imogene was feeling maidenly self-conscious to be sure, but she had not reached fulfilment, and did not yet truly understand what was possible between them. Thus the bereft feelings she’d tried to explain.
“Chérie, I think I understand. Now, you must trust me and allow me to help you. It is my duty as your husband to give you pleasure. Let me show you. Just me and me together, loving each other—that is all this is. No more worries or fears about anything. I wouldn’t want you except just as you are. You are perfect, and have always been perfect to me.”
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“I do...trust you.”
That was all he needed to go forward, and the next minutes were spent doing just that—trusting.
He urged her legs apart and slid two fingers between her thighs, up against the folds of her quim, now slick from the seed he’d spilled in her before. She gasped and jerked when he first touched her but seemed to accept the sensation once he started stoking the swell of her clit in a circular motion. She looked so beautiful submitting to him it was hard not to bury his cock deep into her again. He knew he needed to wait and give her this pleasuring first, but his beastly desires were raging nearly out of control.
“Just feel, chérie. Feel, and let the pleasure embrace you, let it take you over the edge.”
In moments she was breathing heavy and panting his name. She rocked her hips and arched her back, thrusting her breasts closer to his lips. He took the beauteous offering and sucked on a dark pink nipple, loving the sound of her pleasured moan. Graham didn’t stop working her slippery nub, pushing her closer toward a satisfying end.
Imogene’s breath grew short, “I—I do feel something—”
He kept her going, in complete awe of her beauty and the sight of her body being overtaken and ruled by pleasure. Fulfilment that he gave to her. Her hands gripped his hair, anchoring him to her as she grew closer to her peak. Graham relished the power of giving her this first taste.
She cried out his name at the end, clenching her lovely tight cunt around his fingers. It was a beautiful thing to witness.
When she could speak, Imogene stared up at him, wonderment glowing in her expression. “Is that what it feels like for you?” Her brown eyes glittered with a passion and knowing that had not been there before.
“It would appear so, my beautiful lover…mon bel amoureuse. You are a priceless jewel; do you know that? Your pleasure is my pleasure, and my happiness is now totally complete.”