Night Magic

by Susan Squires

  Jane walked out of the closet in Drew’s red négligée.

  Kemble nearly spilled his wine all over himself. He jerked his hand out from under the quilt. What must she think? Probably the worst, because she was blushing. Why wouldn’t she, if she thought he was, well, trying to get himself ready for her? Like it was a chore. She looked good enough to eat. And sweet, the way she blushed. She had courage all right, because she stood there even when she was embarrassed and afraid. She hugged her body to cover her breasts. She must not realize that just pushed them up into creamy mounds that were even more delectable.

  “You’re beautiful,” he blurted. But that wasn’t a bad thing, because the truth of his feelings hovered in the air. Jane’s look turned tentative, but maybe a little hopeful. “Do you think you might want to come over here?” He patted the other side of the great bed. She nodded. After a long pause she made her feet move and crossed the cavernous room to the bed. As she climbed up he scooted the stack of taupe and gray and white pillows on her side closer to him. The fringe of her lashes rose as she realized he meant for her to sit actually next to him. He tried to make his smile reassuring. He wasn’t sure he was successful. He was probably as scared as she was. But she’d dressed in the négligée. It was his turn to move the ball forward. She bit her lip as he took her wineglass from her, but clambered over the huge bed and sat beside him, pulling up the quilt around her waist. It wasn’t meant to be a sexy move at all.

  It drove him wild.

  He handed her back the glass. He felt like he was back in high school, awkward and unsure, as he slid his arm around her shoulders. Just touching her sent his wayward cock twitching. He really hadn’t touched a woman in a long time, if it could do this to him. He was hard as a rock and there was nothing he could do about it. He could only hope the quilt was enough concealment. They sat there stiffly, his arm around her, both of them apparently too stunned to think of anything to say. Their reflection in the wall of mirrors stared back at him. The two open closet doors gave the whole thing a macabre funhouse effect. Whose bright idea was it to put a wall of mirrors across from the bed?

  Then Jane started to giggle. Kemble stiffened further. Was their situation funny? Her giggle cycled up into a sort of a snort. She looked up at him apologetically, but she apparently couldn’t control the cascade of giggles that was fast turning into outright laughter. She pointed to the mirrored wall, as her laughter overtook her.

  The reflection of a stiff and outraged man with his arm still awkwardly around a beautiful woman shaking with laughter stared back at him. The smile he couldn’t help turned into a grin. He shook his head.

  “I guess we are pretty ridiculous,” he managed as the chuckles started to overtake him.

  Jane heaved in a breath as though to speak, but now gusts of laughter were rocking her body and her lovely gray eyes had started to tear. She just nodded convulsively, sloshing some wine on the quilt. He managed to put his wine glass over on the night table in spite of his own laughter and rescue hers before it gave up the rest of its contents. He held her as she leaned forward, gasping for breath between the little squeals of laughter that racked her. The swell of their lungs and the way their bodies were shaking together was wonderful. She was trying to say something.

  “Wha . . . what is it?” he got out between what could now only be called guffaws.

  “We look . . . like that . . . painting.” A peal of laughter caught up with her desire to speak.

  “What painting?” His chest was heaving.

  “A . . . American . . . G . . . gothic.”

  “The guy with the pitchfork?” She nodded. That set both of them off again.

  “Yeah. Maybe a little stiff,” he said, trying to get control of the laughter. He wasn’t sure whether it was his own nerves or whether he’d caught the laughter from Jane.

  “I . . . worried about . . . this . . . all day,” she said, sitting up, and managing a couple of deep breaths. She turned into him, and wiped her eyes and cheeks. Her composure was coming back, marred only by a couple of keening giggles.

  “Me, too,” he admitted, ending in broken chuckles. She lifted her face to his. The laughter had stripped all the fear out of her gray eyes. What was left was something naked, yearning, a little raw. He set her wineglass down on the table behind him without taking his eyes from hers. “Let’s not worry anymore.”

  She shook her head and did the most surprising thing. She melted into his embrace. “No. Let’s not.”

  Kemble found his other arm sliding around her shoulders. It seemed the most natural thing in the world to draw her in until her breasts pressed against his chest. Her hand slid up his chest and she looked up at him. He’d never seen lips more kissable. So he did. He had the sense to go slowly. His lips brushed hers. He felt a shudder slide through her. Was Jane aroused as well? God he hoped so, because the laughter hadn’t eased his erection one jot. Either that or he was on a quick recovery cycle he’d never experienced before. He wanted her. A lot. He slid his tongue over her lips and to his surprise, felt the tip of her tongue dart out to caress him in return.

  Why, Jane. You sly thing. You might actually want this. And why not? Just because someone was a virgin didn’t mean that they didn’t like sex. They’d just never had the opportunity to find out how much. He deepened the kiss and heard a tiny moaning sound from her. She wasn’t in pain. It occurred to him that he might actually like showing Jane the wonders of a conjugal relationship. He might not do this right tonight. He had zero experience with virgins. But that wasn’t the end of the line. They had time. They were married.

  Still, he felt honor bound to warn her. He pulled back. His chest was heaving a little with the breathless kiss. So was hers, to good effect. He liked seeing Jane’s chest heave. “That was . . . astounding,” he murmured. “I . . . I want you to know that I want to make it right for you tonight, Jane. But you should know I . . . I don’t have much experience with virgins. Well . . . any.”

  She sat bolt upright in his arms, stiffening. Had he screwed up all the good the fit of laughter had done them? “Who told you that?” Before he could decide whether to answer, she slumped a little and shook her head, resigned. “Why ask? Dear, meddling Drew.”

  “She wanted to be sure I was . . . good with you.”

  “And what if I didn’t want you to know I was a virgin? Now you’re all nervous about hurting me.”

  He gave her a tiny shrug. “It’s kind of hard to keep that a secret forever. Guess she thought forewarned was forearmed.”

  Jane heaved a sigh fraught with impatience. “Oh, well, she probably just didn’t want you to blame yourself if I was stupid enough to shriek or bleed a lot or something. She was trying to protect you.”

  “Protect me? I think she was trying to protect you.”

  She gave a half giggle then pressed her lips together, as if to stop another fit of uncontrolled laughter. “Maybe we should agree that she was trying to protect both of us and leave it at that.”

  “I think we’re doing okay without her. So let’s leave my sister out of bedroom talk,” he said firmly. “Definitely a downer.” He screwed his courage up again. “I just want you to know before we . . . start that if tonight isn’t the best experience in the world for you, we’ll have other nights. That’s all.”

  She smiled at him. God but that smile was almost enough to hold him together. “That’s kind of a nice thought, isn’t it? How we start may not be how we finish. In a good way.”

  “That’s a very nice thought,” he whispered. He reached behind him to find the dimmer switch for the lights and turned them down to almost nothing. He wasn’t chancing an encounter with the mirrored wall again. He pulled her in even closer and nibbled on her ear. “Now where were we?”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Jane looked up at Kemble’s dear face and saw the heat in his eyes, even in the dim light. Miracle of miracles, he wanted her, even if it was just because he hadn’t dated anyone in a long time. And she wanted him enough to
don Drew’s despised gift and somehow get herself out of the closet, enough to take the lovemaking he would give her on whatever terms he was willing to give it. She’d dreamed of this, somewhere down deep inside where her most cherished dreams hid because she didn’t dare even acknowledge them. And tonight was hers. She was going to make the most of it. She wouldn’t think further than that. Here, in the almost dark, with the man who was her husband, she could do things that the Jane who lived in the very proper daylight would never do. How delicious and sinful! She could be anything here in her marriage bed with the man she loved.

  She put her hand on his bare chest again, sliding it in under his robe. She was expecting the shock of feeling that shot straight to her groin this time. His nipple tightened as her fingers crossed it. That made her close her eyes, savoring. His lips whispered over her forehead and down her cheek to nuzzle her ear. Goosebumps shot over her body, down to her toes, making her shiver, though not in a bad way. She couldn’t help but press her breasts into his body. That made him groan. His arms tightened on her and one hand slid down to her derrière, pulling her in against him. The hard rod of his arousal pressed against her thigh, making her almost giddy with need. The tiny thong of Drew’s gift was already soaked with her juices.

  She slid both hands around Kemble’s neck and up through his hair. It was a little longer than he usually wore it, a mark of his distraction lately. She liked it that way. He worked his way back to her mouth and this time there was no hesitation. He kissed her thoroughly, his tongue probing her mouth. No one had ever kissed her like that. It felt like they were joined in a way already, their tongues twining, their breath sighing into each other. She could just do this forever.

  Except that suddenly she wanted more. More of Kemble, more of his body. Just more. As his hand cupped her breast, she reached for the tie on his robe and pulled. Goodness, but her breasts felt swollen. As he kneaded her breast, all feeling seemed to concentrate in her nipple. And that shot even more sensation down to her groin. She felt almost lightheaded.

  “Jane.” Kemble was breathing into her mouth, as his kisses grew more fevered. His thumb pressed her nipple, stroking and circling.

  She pulled one side of the robe off his shoulder. Oh, dear. She was really rather rough about it. He didn’t seem to mind, though. He took over and pulled his robe open and off. He tossed it off the bed, and there he was in the dim light, all that taut muscle and smooth skin. That’s what she wanted. “Better.” The guttural tone of her voice surprised her. She was becoming someone else, someone the old Jane Butler wouldn’t recognize. She ran her hands over the muscles in his shoulders and down to his biceps. Dear, dear. The quilt had been pushed down as he struggled out of his robe, and there, in the dim light was a very large and very engorged penis. She wasn’t entirely sure, but she thought that must be much larger than was usual with men. At least all the statues in Europe she’d seen hadn’t been that big. All that was going to try to get into her tonight. She should feel afraid. But somehow she wasn’t. Fascinated, more like.

  “May I . . . touch?” That seemed only polite, even though the staring probably wasn’t.

  “Please.” That growl came from somewhere down in his belly. At least it sounded like that. He pushed the quilt down and stretched back against the pillows. My God, he’s like every woman’s wet dream. The ribbed belly, the fine skin over his hip. She wanted to touch all of him.

  She reached out. Men’s genitals were very sensitive, at least from what she’d read, so she resolved to be gentle. She ran her fingers around it. The skin was silken. The vein that stood out along the length of it just begged to be touched. He hissed in a breath and she jerked back. “Did I hurt you?”

  “No.” He sounded a little strangled. “That was good.”

  “Oh.” She was pleased with herself. Maybe she could get the hang of this. It was good to give him pleasure. She did it again, and this time she came to a little moisture at the tip. He was leaking fluid there, so she rubbed it around the big head of his penis. A little lubrication couldn’t be bad, could it? His breath was coming in fits and gasps as she clasped her hand around the shaft. It was so hard inside the satin skin. His hand lowered to hers, clenching her fingers more tightly and moved her fist up and down. It was okay to clasp it that tightly? He must think so. She moved her fist up and down even after he let her hand go. In fact, her other hand seemed to reach out without her intention and caressed his sac. It was so full and high. His hips lifted. That might be a good thing. She actually felt the round stones of his testicles inside. She rubbed them together ever so gently, even as she continued moving her hand up and down. Kemble had clasped his hands behind his neck. What a lovely picture his rounded biceps made in the dim light. And the bunched muscles of his thighs as his hips moved a little in counterpoint to her grip on him were also quite delightful. The dark hair on his chest and belly, the nest around his genitals, were stark against his pale skin. That was so . . . sexual.

  He let her enjoy herself as she would. She was half tempted to reach down with her tongue and taste the fluid that leaked from the tip of his penis. She’d read it tasted salty and not bad at all. But that might be too personal for the first time they made love.

  When he unclasped his hands to still her hand, she stiffened. “Not good?”

  “Too good,” he rumbled. “I want to last tonight.”

  Oh. Did he mean he’d been about to have an orgasm? She’d almost given him an orgasm? That was so good. She might be able to do this after all.

  He folded her in his arms and began kissing her again. His penis pressed against her thigh, leaving dampness there. So engrossed was she, she was hardly aware that he’d slipped the straps of Drew’s gift off her shoulders until the whole thing fell away. His lips kissed their way down her neck and fastened on her right nipple. Dear God! She moaned and arched into his mouth. Her hands clenched at his biceps. She actually felt the gush of juices between her legs. Her nipple might never be the same. He was relentless, his tongue lapping at her nipple between bouts of sucking it. She realized she was making little, breathy, surprised sounds. Then he laid her down, his body glued to her side, his hips moving his erection against her thigh. She couldn’t help it. She moved her hand from his biceps to his back and then down, until she cupped that round, firm buttock. The way it clenched as he moved against her made her want to shriek. Men were so hard. And yet his skin was silky smooth. He was a contradiction in so many ways, Kemble was.

  He put his hand between her legs. It seemed natural to open her knees to him. At first he just palmed her mound as he moved his attentions to her other nipple. But soon she was thrusting against his hand, wanting to go further, though she didn’t know where. His finger slid inside her, then up her slick tissues to the front of her labia then back down and inside, and back up. Down and back. The sensation was almost excruciating. Her pelvis actually ached. She’d never felt anything like it. And all she wanted was more.

  She lifted her hips in rhythm with him. Down and back. Then he had two fingers inside her. Down and back. Three. She moaned into his hair. He tore his mouth from her breast and delved his tongue into her mouth again. Now his fingers stayed high in her labia, rubbing what she knew was her clitoris. He was relentless, right until he stilled. Just as she was about to catch her breath he started in again. Stopped. Started, until she was bucking against his hand and making little cries.

  The sensation, when it came, was like clenching every muscle in her entire body as tight as they would go and then releasing, all at once—a slingshot into some other place she’d never been, where all was light and sound. Was that her blood roaring in her ears? It was so loud she could hardly hear her own cries.

  When she finally came down, she felt like she’d been gone a long time. Everything was changed. Kemble was murmuring, “That’s my girl,” into her ears and kissing her cheeks. Were those tears? Yep. Because now she realized she was sobbing. She buried her head in his shoulder.

  “I’m so . . .
sorry,” she gasped through the sobs.

  “It’s okay,” he murmured. “It happens. Called release of sexual tension.”

  She used to hate all those girls he went out with in his younger days, but now she was so grateful that he knew what was happening and could reassure her. She had no idea women cried when they had an orgasm.

  “Been a while?” He smiled down at her.

  “I guess you could say that. This was my first.”

  He looked startled. And why wouldn’t he? She’d just all but admitted that she hadn’t even ever masturbated. That made her officially about the most uncool person in the world. But it had just never felt right to pleasure herself—all empty and pointless when she saw the person she wanted to make love with just about every day.

  She shouldn’t admit things like that to him. But what couldn’t she admit to Kemble? Besides the fact that she was head over heels in love with him when he wasn’t in love with her? Other than that, Kemble could know anything about her. She was an open book, his for the reading. And she could trust him with that. She’d trusted Kemble for most of her life. The only reason he couldn’t know she loved him was because it would hurt him. He’d blame himself for not loving her back.

  “You’ve, uh, never had an orgasm?”

  She shook her head and shrugged helplessly. How stupid he must think her.

  Instead of disdain, he got a wicked look in his eyes. “We’ll have to make up for lost time, then.” He held her against his body. His breath was warm in her hair. His hands moved down her back to her buttocks. “You just need a minute and then we can go again.”