Echoes in the Mist

by Echoes In the Mist (lit)

  Ariana's knees nearly gave way beneath her. Never had she imagined a man penetrating a woman in this manner... nor that it could feel so incredibly good. For a time she remained passive, letting him teach her how it was done, glorying in each sensual caress, opening her mouth eagerly to receive the suggestive invasion of his tongue. Then, with artless curiosity and grace, she touched her tongue to his, fencing lightly as he had with her.

  Trenton made a harsh sound deep in his throat, his body jolting with shock and desire. He tore his mouth from hers, his breath coming in harsh pants, and stared down in amazement.

  "Did I do something wrong?" Ariana whispered, seeing his intense expression.

  "No, my little innocent, you did nothing wrong." Trenton sounded as if he’d been running a great distance. "I just never expected such passion... not from you, or myself."

  A hint of a blush stained Ariana's cheeks, and she attempted to free herself from his grasp. "I don't know what you expected, but apparently I’ve disappointed you."

  Trenton's arms tightened like steel bands. "To the contrary, my extraordinary bride, you've exceeded my wildest fantasies." His lips curved slightly. "And believe me, I've had many about this night."

  Ariana ceased her struggles. "Oh." She gave him a quizzical look. "That's good then, isn't it?"

  He chuckled. "Very good." He bent to press his lips to the pulse beating erratically at her neck. "You smell like flowers."

  "Which ones?" she answered weakly, her bead reeling. "There are hundreds of different varieties of-"

  "Sweet ones," he interjected, taking light, nipping sips of her skin until he reached the delicate curve of her jawbone. "Ones that are new, untouched." He grazed the soft skin of her cheek. "With buds just waiting to be picked." He kissed her chin, her nose, the corners of her mouth. "Flowers that are ready to open to the sun, to be bathed in its fire, to drown in its heat." He buried his lips in hers, and she relented in a rush, melting into a boneless puddle of sensation. She clutched his arms for support, drowning in the inferno of their kiss.

  "Put your arms around me," he commanded against her mouth, urging her hands higher. "Hold me."

  Ariana obeyed without question, reveling in Trenton's low groan of pleasure.

  He molded her body to his, hungry and insistent, forcing her to know her effect on him, every hardened contour, every throbbing inch. And while moments before it would have frightened her, Ariana felt an answering leap inside her, an inner voice that, despite her innocence, knew just what to do.

  She pressed closer, moving experimentally against her husband, and was rewarded by the violent shudder that wracked his massive frame.

  Trenton lifted her from the floor and crushed her in his arms. "Say my name,” he ordered.

  Ariana barely heard him.

  "Say it, Ariana." He tore his mouth from hers. "My given name. Not `Your Grace'... or any other form of ducal address. I want to hear my name from your lips."

  She opened her eyes and stared into his, feeling lost and yet somehow not lost at all, knowing what Trenton needed... even knowing why.

  "Trenton," she whispered.

  "Again."

  "Trenton."

  Something profound and beautiful flashed in his eyes at her response. "Come to bed with me," he said hoarsely.

  Whether it was a request or a command, Ariana didn't care. The answer was the same: "Yes."

  He swept her into his arms, reaching the bed in two strides and lowering them both to the soft mattress.

  "Misty angel," he rasped, his voice harsh with need, strained with the discipline of holding back, "I want you... God, how I want you." He buried his face in Ariana's hair, his hands slowly exploring the soft contours of her body through the thin nightdress.

  Explosions of pure sensation seized her... raw, dazzling, galvanized sensation: the exquisite softness of the bed beneath her, Trenton's warm mouth and hands burning through her skin, his words of desire reverberating in her ears. No one had ever needed her like this, not ever. The reality was exhilarating.

  But it wasn't enough.

  Ariana squirmed, her body desperate for more, but of what, she had no idea.

  Trenton did.

  Slowly, gently, he reached up to unbutton her gown, lingering over each button as if to give her time to adjust to the inevitability of what was to be. Ariana lay quiet, her eyes wide open now and glued to his.

  "I won't hurt you," he promised, smoothing his thumb over the bare skin of her collarbone. "Don't be afraid."

  "I'm not," she breathed back, her chest rising and falling with anticipation and... yes, anxiety. "Well, maybe a bit," she clarified, her voice barely audible.

  He smiled at her admission, bending to brush his lips across her naked flesh. "Fear is not what I want you to feel," he said huskily, easing the cotton edges of her nightdress farther apart. "What I want you to feel is pleasure." He bent his head to the inner slopes of her breasts, exposed now to his seeking mouth and hands. "Flowers," he murmured, inhaling deeply. "Intoxicating flowers."

  "Trenton." Ariana said his name on a sigh, her trembling fingers sliding into his hair, unconsciously holding him to her. Her slivers of fear fragmented, splintered more completely with each brush of his lips, each tug of her gown, until she was nearly frantic to be naked to the total possession of his mouth. "Please..." she whispered.

  He didn't need to ask for what she was so desperately pleading. With one purposeful yank, the gown was down at her waist, trapping her arms within it and baring her breasts to his will. He didn't wait but drew one taut, aching nipple into his mouth, laving it with his tongue, scraping it lightly with his teeth.

  Ariana heard herself cry out, but she couldn't have silenced herself if she’d tried. She arched, needing more of Trenton's magnificent caresses, needing them now.

  Trenton obliged her by deepening the contact, sliding his arm beneath her back, lifting her to him and enveloping her nipple with a suction so powerful she had to bite her lips to keep from crying out again.

  "Am I hurting you?" he demanded hoarsely.

  She shook her head wildly. "Don't stop."

  "Never, misty angel. Never." He bent to claim her other breast, taking it with the same force as he had the first, evoking the same reaction from his bride. “Do you have any idea what you're doing to me?" he rasped, unwilling, unable to tear his mouth from her sweet, sweet flesh.

  "What I'm doing to you?" she responded weakly. "What about what you're doing to me?"

  Despite his raging, devouring passion, he couldn't help but smile. "What am I doing to you, Ariana? Tell me." He licked teasing circles around one damp, swollen nipple.

  "I'm drowning," she moaned softly. "And I don't know how to make it stop."

  "I'll make it stop. I promise you: I'll make it stop." He dragged the nightdress down her legs, crumpling it into a discarded ball at the foot of the bed.

  Ariana opened her eyes in time to see Trenton's ravenous gaze rake her nakedness, lingering hungrily on the auburn curls between her thighs. Instinctively, she reached down to cover herself.

  "Don't." He caught her hand in his, a look of stark longing on his face. "You're exquisite. Don't ever, ever hide yourself from me."

  Ariana's protest dissipated, not at his command, but at the genuine emotion on his face, in his voice. She relaxed, silently giving her husband free reign of her body.

  Trenton brought her hand to his lips, kissed her fingers. "Close your eyes,” he instructed softly. "Close your eyes and feel."

  Ariana's eyes drifted shut.

  She felt his breath tease her sensitized skin as his warm mouth descended, and her stomach contracted with pleasure.

  "Do you like this?" he murmured, pressing hot kisses across her abdomen, cupping her hips and massaging her soft bottom with the tips of his fingers.

  "Yes... oh, yes..."

  "Good. And this?" He knelt between her legs, lifting her foot to his mouth, kissing the smooth arch, the dainty sole, wetting her tingling skin wi
th his tongue, biting lightly to intensify the sensation. Ariana moaned. "Good," he whispered, moving to the curve of her ankle, her calf, the delicate slope of her knee. Ariana shivered uncontrollably, whimpered for him to stop, then sighed with disappointment when he complied.

  "Don't..." she protested in a breathy whisper.

  "I won't."

  Ariana's body leapt with pleasure as Trenton turned his attentions to her other leg.

  "And this? Do you like this, misty angel?" He shifted a bit higher on the bed, his open mouth caressing her warm inner thigh.

  The ecstasy was so acute she couldn't answer.

  "Good," he replied as if she'd spoken. He eased her legs apart, settled himself between them. Open-mouthed, he teased first one thigh, then the other, moving higher and higher, tasting every satin inch of skin until he'd reached the exquisite joining that defined her womanhood. "And most especially, this,” he breathed, burying his mouth in her sweetness.

  Suspended on the dazzling threshold of passion, Ariana never uttered the token protest that formed in her mind, for it dispelled into nothing before ever reaching her lips. The rapture erupted inside her in a blaze, every nerve ending screaming with pleasure so acute it was like pain. She tossed her head on the pillow, taut with a need she had never imagined and an urgency she didn’t understand. All she knew was that something inside her coiled so tightly, clawed so powerfully, that if it didn't ease she would die. She called out to Trenton, begged him to help her, greedily arching into each wildly erotic plunge of his tongue.

  Abruptly, he stopped, and Ariana sobbed a protest, beyond coherent thought, beyond any thought at all.

  He loomed over her, his body shuddering more powerfully than hers. "I'm too selfish," he ground out. "I want you with me, not alone." He vaulted from the bed, leaving Ariana dying.

  "Trenton... please..." she pleaded, pride insignificant beside the unendurable ache he'd created inside her. "I can't... bear it."

  "You don't have to." He tore off his robe, lowering his sweat-drenched body over hers, providing Ariana with her shocking first glimpse of a naked man. "Open to me," he commanded, his face, his tone, harsh with need. "Let me in...deep, deep inside you. Filling all of you with all of me." He lifted her legs, placed them around his waist, leaving her totally open to his penetration. He paused. "Ariana, look at me."

  Ariana tore her gaze from his huge, rigid erection, looking up at him with stunned eyes.

  "My bewitching misty angel," he murmured, stroking her cheek with a shaking hand. "So dazed, so passionate." He inhaled sharply. "Are you frightened?"

  Ariana's body screamed for relief. "Will it hurt?"

  He fought the reflexive motion of his hips, already urging him into her. "At first... yes."

  Ariana closed her eyes, totally, maddeningly on fire. She felt her husband lock his arms on either side of her head, battling for a control he no longer possessed. And all because he didn't want to cause her pain.

  Slowly, Ariana's eyes opened, gazing directly into Trenton's tortured stare. With quivering fingers and innate perception, she reached down and guided him into her, feeling his body jolt with urgency, his life pulse beneath her fingertips. "I'm not frightened," she whispered.

  "Ariana..." he choked out, his features contorting with passion. He pressed deeper into her, stretching her delicate flesh with his powerful invasion, filling her so totally she gasped.

  Instantly, he stopped. "Does it hurt?"

  "Not really," she answered in breathless wonder.

  He eased deeper, deeper still, until he reached the thin veil of her maidenhood. His chest heaved with each breath, his hips circled spontaneously, readying her for his possession. Slowly, gently, he slid his hand between them, finding and caressing the delicate, swollen bud of her passion, gliding his thumb over her dewy wetness, repeating the caress again and again until Ariana cried out, arched her back for more.

  "Yes, misty angel... like that, yes." He thrust into her, taking her from girlhood to womanhood in one famished, irrevocable stroke.

  Slices of pain cut through the cresting pleasure, and Ariana bit back her anguished cry, digging her nails into the sheets and squeezing her eyes shut. She felt torn in two, filled to bursting, raw and aching.

  Trenton held himself completely still, balancing his weight on his elbows and staring down into his wife's pale face. Two tears slid out from beneath her long lashes and trickled down her cheeks.

  "Don't cry, sweetheart," she heard him murmur. "I won't have to hurt you anymore. I promise." He slid his fingers between them once more, stroking ever so lightly, bending his head to her breast, drawing the still-hard nipple into his mouth and bathing it with his tongue.

  Ariana felt the impact of his ardent seduction, her body responding on cue, coming back to life beneath his expert touch. But it was the tender concern in his voice she reveled in, opened her eyes to, gave herself to.

  Moving sensuously, eagerly beneath him, she curled her arms around her husband’s neck, showing him she wanted him with every fiber of her being.

  Trenton gritted his teeth. "Is the pain gone?"

  "Nearly." Ariana shifted restlessly into Trenton's caressing hand, the movement driving him deeper inside her, increasing the exquisite friction where his rigid shaft stretched her moist, sensitive softness. Ariana whimpered with pleasure, and Trenton threw back his head, emitting a low sound of pure animal need.

  "Damn it, Ariana," he growled, his eyes darkening to nearly black. "I'm not a saint." He was already moving, unable to hold back any longer.

  "That feels so good," she whispered, awed and totally oblivious to Trenton’s warning.

  With a husky laugh, he bent his head, covering her mouth with his, gliding his hands beneath her silky bottom to lift her into his thrusts. "Ah, misty angel, my beautiful, innocent seductress," he murmured, drawing back only to press deep within her once more. "You burn me down to my soul." He bit lightly at her lower lip. "Tell me what you want, sweetheart."

  "You. I want you, Trenton." The frantic feeling had returned, her body wild for release.

  He stared down at her for an endless moment, taking in her rosy cheeks and flushed breasts, her shallow breathing, the helpless arching of her body beneath his. A look of raw, naked emotion crossed his face just before he took her mouth purposefully, ready to give her what she so desperately craved.

  Penetrating her mouth with his tongue, Trenton drew Ariana's hips up to meet the powerful surge of his. Again and again he repeated the dual motion, possessing her so totally she couldn't breathe, nor did she want to.

  The tidal wave of sensation roared to life inside her once more, drowning her in its wake, and Ariana struggled recklessly for that elusive relief that hovered just out of her reach.

  "Don't fight, love," Trenton panted into her open mouth. "Let me take you there. Trust me."

  Ariana stopped struggling at once.

  She felt Trenton's hands tighten on her hips, his thrusts become deeper, more powerful, faster. Ariana's nails scored his back, her cries mounted with each plunging thrust. Fervently, her body tightened around his, beneath his. And all the while he breathed hot, explicit instructions in her ear, guided her from one shimmering plateau to another, until they teetered on the highest precipice, plummeted over its magnificent edge.

  The tidal wave burst, sending waves and waves of sheer, dazzling euphoria exploding inside her, cresting and falling with each spasm of her body. She cried out his name, heard his exultant shout of release, and then there was only the wondrous feeling of being crushed in his arms, the very essence of him pouring into her body, melding her climax with his own.

  And at last there was peace.

  Chapter Eight

  Timeless, languorous minutes elapsed.

  Ariana sank into the mattress, blanketed beneath Trenton's solid weight, dimly aware that his sweat-drenched body was still shuddering with powerful aftershocks. Reality held at bay, she drifted, her limbs weak as water, her mind floating on clouds of
contentment. So this was the glorious aftermath of passion, this feeling of incomparable oneness. She closed her eyes. Please, she prayed silently, never let it end.

  Long moments later, Trenton raised his head, gazing wearily down at his wife through sober, sated eyes.

  Feeling his scrutiny, Ariana forced her lids to open, and what she saw on Trenton’s face made her heart leap with happiness. His expression was unguarded, devoid of its customary anger and arrogance, filled with awe... and a touch of remorse.

  Instinctively, Ariana reached up, erasing the lines of concern from his forehead with gentle strokes of her fingertips, gliding her hand through the damp, silky texture of his hair.

  Trenton bent to kiss her soft, bruised lips. "Are you all right?"

  She nodded, giving him a shy smile. "Yes. A bit crushed, but fine."

  Instantly he eased off her, frowning when she flinched at his withdrawal. "You're in pain."

  "No," she quickly denied, unwilling to relinquish this wonderful new intimacy that flowed between them. Never having imagined such closeness existed, she longed to preserve the wondrous bond they had just forged with their bodies. "I'm not in pain. Just discomfort."

  She wanted to sob out a protest when Trenton rolled to his feet and left her, crossing the room to fill the china basin with cool water. Alone in the massive bed, bereft and unsure, Ariana felt abandoned, insignificant and utterly alone. For the briefest of instants, she seriously considered begging him to come back and hold her, then dismissed the notion as nonsensical. Trenton would think she had lost her mind.

  Perhaps she had.

  Raising her head, Ariana studied him candidly. He was bronzed, magnificent and as totally oblivious to his own nakedness as he was to the loneliness settling heavily on her heart. She sat up straighter, the sheet falling to her waist, making her abruptly aware of her own nudity.

  Hastily, she covered herself, wondering what Trenton expected of her now. She could hardly excuse herself and leave, as this was her bedroom. Should she rise and don her nightgown? Act nonchalant and pretend nothing was changed? Impossible.