Beatrice gulped back her cry of alarm. She tried not to let her fear paralyze her, but she couldn’t help tensing beneath his exploration. He continued to stroke her thighs, gently, reverently, until her body recognized his intent to give pleasure and she relaxed. Only then did he push her legs wide.
He was breathing deeply, his face a mask of taut control. “So brave, so trusting. You honor me, sweetheart. I won’t disappoint you. I promise you, you’ll like it.”
His words heightened her need even more than his fingers on her thigh. She opened eagerly for him without further coaxing. Her reward came when he stroked the soft, moist flesh of her womanhood. A heated, aching wetness pulsed to life in the secret place between her legs. She felt so strong, molten, throbbing … Instinctively she whimpered and arched her back, longing for him to claim her as no man ever had. To be his first, his only …
That brought her to her senses. He might be her only but she doubted very much he’d be satisfied with only his wife in his bed. Sadness mingled with her desire. A poignant reminder of how he could take her to the heights of pleasure but never really be hers.
Her mundane thoughts fled as, with exquisite care, his finger slipped between her cleft lips and penetrated her.
He captured her surprise with his mouth, his tongue stroking the inside of her cheek as his finger did below. She was overcome with sensations, squirming beneath him, but he continued his tender ministrations, exploring, probing, learning her secrets. It was too much when the rough pad of his thumb brushed the now slick bud of her femininity. She arched up off the bed.
She clutched at his shoulders, not certain she could bear any more, but knowing she’d die if he stopped. Thankfully, he went on stroking, surging and withdrawing, rhythmically driving her on to greater heights. Her ingrained feminine instinct took over, and her hips lifted and sought to match his pace. It seemed to please him, his kiss deepened, his fingers moved faster …
Desperation raced through her and she moaned and twisted under his hand, the coiled tension inside her growing more urgent with every stroke until she thought fire and need would consume her. All she knew was the devastating heat of his mouth on hers, the hot pounding of her blood, the fierce delight of what he was doing to her. She wanted more.
Then she was flying …
Stars burst behind her tightly closed eyes, the pleasure so intense she struggled to remain in her body. Frantic, she writhed beneath his possessive hand, yet sensations owned her, held her, until she was but a small bright dot in the room. Beatrice embraced wave after wave of hot, delicious release, never wanting the pleasure to end.
His hand rose to cup her face. “So beautiful, so responsive. I’m a lucky man in my choice of wife.” He bent and his lips traced the thundering pulse at her neck before his mouth feathered kisses over her flushed face.
“Open your eyes, sweetheart.” He tipped her face up, and lowered his head to hers. He studied her eyes as if searching for a truth. She didn’t even contemplate hiding herself from him.
He drew back. “Now I’ll make you mine. From tonight you’ll belong to me. There will be no other man for you. I insist on it. I will know any child you bear is mine!”
She refused to allow his insult to anger her. Her gaze focused on his lips. “Of course, you’re my husband.” She watched, mesmerized, as he drew in another breath as if he were trying to steady himself. She stretched up, drew his head down, brought her lips close to his and murmured, “I made a vow before God to share myself with only you. I won’t break that vow.”
He covered her lips with his, kissing her furiously. His hands trailed further up her body, pulling her night-robe with him, baring her skin; all the while his hands touched her like a whispered caress. Reverent. Worshiping. Claiming.
He pulled her into a sitting position and pushed the robe off her shoulders, and all but tore her night rail up over her head until she lay naked before him. Pulling her into his arms, he molded her close to him. Naked in his arms, she clung, and returned his kisses greedily, avidly, flagrantly encouraging him to seize, take, and claim. On a groan he pressed down on top of her, his hands cupping her bottom, pressing her to him, molding her softness against his erection while his tongue plundered her mouth, igniting in her a massive aching need.
How could she want him like this after he’d just given her such wondrous pleasure? Heat roared and fire took hold once again.
She pushed her hands against his chest and broke their kiss. “Can I see you too?”
At his inviting smile, with eager hands she pushed his robe from his broad shoulders, trapping his arms as he’d trapped her. She leaned up and placed her mouth to his bare chest. Silk over steel. She allowed herself the luxury of trailing her lips over each defined muscle until she found his hardened nipple. She licked and sucked and was rewarded with a loud groan and his hands cupped her breasts, molding and squeezing.
All too soon, with a curse, he rolled off her and sat up, dispensing with his robe before coming back to lie above her on the bed. Finally she had her hands on hot, rough, skin. She ran her fingers over his chest and stomach, the muscles beneath rigid and locked. His chest was a wonder of rough hairs; the dark mass tickled her hands as she ran them over his hardness. She leaned into him and licked again, wanting to taste him on her tongue. He tasted divine, all male, addictively so. She was exploring new, previously forbidden territory, her hands running over his skin, the long muscles framing his back flexed like a rapier. She counted his ribs as she traced the muscles leading down his sides, then caressed the rippling bands across his abdomen. They rippled like a pond at each touch.
Gaining courage, her fingers quested lower. He sucked in a breath and held it as she lightly traced his erection. He stilled, his lips on hers, his tongue in her mouth, when she wrapped her hand around him. His member flexed in her hand. She couldn’t help but look down. She swallowed. He was magnificent. She squeezed gently and he groaned into her mouth. Thrilled at this newfound power, Beatrice was no longer afraid. All she felt was excitement.
He was hot-skinned, so very smooth and so very soft, yet at the same time as hard as the stone this house was made from.
Sebastian let out another groan and closed his eyes, letting his head drop forward. He was entirely under her spell, focused on her hand and what she was doing. She let her fingers explore freely and learned the size and shape of him. He was solid, larger than she’d imagined, and a smidgen of fear resurfaced. He more than filled her hand. Perhaps it was time to be more than a little afraid. But she pushed those thoughts aside, determined to experience everything he offered.
Growing bolder, she closed her fingers around him. He placed his hand over hers and showed her what he wanted, what he needed. This time his groan was accompanied by a shudder.
She could feel his need escalating with each stroke, and need rose in her body too. She began to understand her body and the answering dampness between her thighs. She was aroused.
As if he knew what she was thinking, he said, “A man finds an aroused woman incredibly desirable.”
A flush rose up her body. “I don’t know what I’m doing, but I never imagined …”
“How pleasurable lovemaking could be?”
“Yes.”
His half smile was indulgent. “This is only the entrée, so to speak, sweetheart. There is more, so much more, that I can teach you about desire. And with your permission, I intend to spend the rest of the night showing you.”
Beatrice returned his gaze solemnly. She knew she would never have love from her husband, but she was quite prepared to share passion with him. For it would be a long, lonely marriage without it. Passion and friendship. She prayed it would be enough. Children would be the perfect reward.
“I am your husband, Beatrice,” he said, his voice a velvet murmur. “There is no shame in touching me. You may touch me for as long as you’d like.”
She had never thought much about the male form before, but he was so different from her. He posse
ssed a broad chest and narrow hips and powerful thighs, like the statutes of Greek gods she had seen. And his erection, springing from the curling dark hair at his groin, made her heart beat erratically. She didn’t fear the act exactly, but when she saw the size of him, neither was she in the least at ease.
He didn’t appear to be embarrassed at all. Of course he wouldn’t be. He was a rake of the first order and had probably been naked with many, many women. He obviously sensed her unease, because he began caressing her again, running his hands over her hair, letting the strands fall between his fingers like water. The unruly mess cascaded down her back as if a waterfall.
“You have beautiful hair,” he murmured, his fingers gliding through the silken tresses.
“My hair? It’s unmanageable.”
“Like you,” he whispered. “Shall I tame you?”
Suddenly the cool night air caressed her nakedness and Beatrice shivered.
“Your body is exquisitely lovely as well,” he said, his gaze sweeping her nakedness. “I intend to show you all the pleasure it was made for.”
Beatrice thought about trying to cover her nakedness, but there would be no point. She was going to spend the rest of her life with this man, she should get used to him looking at her now. She would certainly never tire of looking at him.
She should also get used to his touch, she thought as he ran a finger along her throat down to the tip of her breast, the erotic feel making her draw a sharp breath.
She reached up to touch his sensual mouth with her fingertips. “You promise it won’t hurt?” she asked him, her voice soft.
“I promise.” Tender flames warmed the depths of his eyes. He had beautiful eyes. Eyes that took possession of her wherever they looked. He once more moved closer, pushing her gently back onto the bed, lowering over her and bringing her skin into contact with his. The heat from his body leapt into hers, shocking, scalding.
Beatrice trembled at the erotic sensation, feeling her breasts graze the hairs on his chest, and below, the hot, throbbing maleness of him pressing against her stomach. Sebastian bent his head, his lips kissing a path along her cheekbone. As he felt a shiver run through her body, he said, “I hate the way that society keeps information about the marriage bed from young ladies. It places the most absurd fears in your minds. It makes you afraid to feel, afraid to touch, afraid to enjoy.”
Capturing her trembling hand, he enfolded it around the throbbing shaft of his manhood. “Touch me, sweetheart. Feel me …”
She gave herself over to the passion and lost her fear in the unique feel of him. The smooth velvet skin of his phallus. The granite hardness. The swollen marble-soft head, the soft curling hair and heavy sacs beneath. Yes, he was frightening, frighteningly beautiful. If she were honest, she would admit she found the differences in their bodies thrilling. His sheer masculinity called out to everything feminine in her. His hands rose to her breasts, cupping their lush swells. Beatrice closed her eyes and sighed. How expert he was, she thought dazedly. Yes, tonight would be memorable. And it would not be about pain.
His hands were a murmur against her body. Like a blind man’s, his fingertips glided over flesh, fanning over her breasts in deepening strokes; she was unable to resist the exquisite languor that had stolen through her limbs.
Like the Pied Piper, he called to her, to her senses, to her body. She responded without thought; her mouth sought his while she strained to get closer, straining to feel his flesh against her. A gratified murmur sounded deep in his throat.
She could not tear her gaze from his face. His heavy-lidded eyes compelling, he began to stroke her aching breasts again, his palms rubbing the taut globes, his fingers kindling arrows of impossible rapture in her tight nipples.
Beatrice found it easy to surrender herself into his care. It was magical to lie in his arms like this, to breathe in the warm, masculine scent of him, to feel his incredible touch. Then he bent his head, savoring her stiffened nipple with his mouth, and her breath fled her body. His hot mouth suckled and savored. Her head fell back. Her gasps shivered through the room. He was feasting like a starving man. He laved her breasts, suckled, nipped—sending arrows of heat to her core. His hot mouth gave such pleasure she prayed he would never stop. Her hands closed on his skull, holding him to her—she was never letting go. His mouth was heaven on her flesh.
She gloried in the feel of his hard body, the evidence of his desire never more real. Beatrice stroked his cock once, and he growled deep in his chest. Her skin was flaming, her body melting, all her senses heightened and in scattered disarray. He pushed his knee between hers, parting her thighs, exposing the musky scent of her arousal to the room. Beatrice was momentarily embarrassed when his muscled thigh, raspy with masculine hair, rode against her dampness, but his groan of admiration saw her glory in wanton incitement. He deliberately shifted, pressing against the most sensitive spot, knowingly winding her tight … Her breath tangled in her throat.
She traced the rock-hard muscles in Sebastian’s arms as he braced himself over her, his other knee joining the first, pushing her legs apart, spreading her thighs so he could settle between them.
Their eyes locked and silently communicated. He looked down to where their bodies would join. The angles and planes of his handsome face were sharp with desire. There was an elemental rawness of conquering male, and it thrilled her. She cupped his face and nodded. She was putting herself into his hands, into his body, regardless of whether she ever found a place in his heart.
He lowered his head to place a gentle kiss on her lips as he shifted between her thighs. The hardness she had been caressing probed her slick entrance.
“See how your body prepares itself for me?” His voice was husky. “Relax, my darling. Breathe slowly, I promise I will try and make it as painless as I can. But there may be a slight pinch.” He kissed her temple. “But it will only be for the first time. The hurt will go away and then all you will feel is pleasure.” His gaze plunged deeply into hers. “Trust me. I know you have no reason to, but if we could build a trust between us, we will have an excellent marriage.”
Incredibly, she did trust him.
He began to ease into her softness. He flexed his hips and pressed further in. She felt every inch of his hardness, stretching and filling her. He reversed direction and she let out the breath she had been holding.
“I know it will hurt the first time—why not just get it over with?” she said through gritted teeth.
He pressed back in, a little way further this time. “It doesn’t have to hurt. Patience.”
He repeated the process several times, each entry just that little bit further. Each short stroke enough to tantalize, to drive her insane. She moaned his name.
She was trembling with desire and he kissed her more deeply. She bent her knees and placed her feet beside his hips until her thighs hugged his waist. Not allowing any resistance, his powerful thighs kept hers parted as he slowly, slowly sank further, pushing forward an exorable pressure.
He continued teasing her, entering her and withdrawing until she was wet and open and almost delirious with desire, moving in a rhythm that was as ancient as time.
He took her mouth as he was taking her body, his tongue mimicking his delicious torture below. He slid deeper, and his tongue plundered, ruthlessly. He settled more heavily between her legs, and she felt the power and strength of him.
Beatrice stiffened, gasping for breath. She felt sure she could never accommodate his enormous size, and yet her body was opening for him, stretching … his unfamiliar hardness filling her.
She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to catch her breath.
He was not moving now. “Look at me, look into my eyes while I claim you.” When she looked, she saw tenderness as he gazed down at her.
He moved tenderly within her too, further on each gentle thrust until he was finally seated deep within her.
Only then did he hold still above her, raining kisses all over her face. “Are you all right?” The c
oncern was very evident in his voice and in the worried look in his eyes. He tenderly stroked down her side and molded his hands to her hips.
“Yes,” she said, and amazingly, she was. There had been a tight pinch on his last thrust, but no pain, just a dull ache, which was easing. All she could feel was him throbbing deep within her. He lay completely still, waiting for her to grow accustomed to his impalement and the feel of his thick member deep inside her. Eventually she couldn’t stand it. She had to move.
He brushed back a tendril of hair from her cheek.
“Someone’s impatient?”
Ignoring his teasing, she stirred her hips, tentatively testing. Sebastian rose up on his forearms and his eyes glinted down at her, the weight of his lower body holding her immobile as he looked down and watched as he withdrew and slowly, even more powerfully, entered her.
She followed his gaze and watched as he claimed her. She felt every inch as he filled her, felt her body tighten until she arched beneath him.
“Oh, it feels so good.” She struggled to catch her breath. “My body is on fire. I don’t know if I can take …”
“You can. You will.” It was a growled command. “Close your eyes and let it happen.” He continued to move above her and her body wound tight as a drawn bow. She did as she was told and closed her eyes and gave herself over to passion’s power. The intimacy of the moment sharpened as he slid deep and she felt the first stirrings of overwhelming passion.
She sent her hands sliding over his shoulders, running them over his back until she found his buttocks. She held on as they flexed. He began to move more forcibly than before; her hips lifted to match his rhythm, the friction of their bodies sending spiraling pleasure to her very core.
A Promise of More Page 9