"Here, let me get out of the tub. You finish cleaning yourself and then I’ll do the same. Sit and wait for me on the bench when you’re done. I’m going to shave so I don’t rub your skin raw by mistake."
He got out of the tub and stood at the washstand without a trace of self-consciousness. She admired his buttocks, his proud jutting manhood, his impressive curves down to his thighs, the wonderful golden colour of his flesh. How could anyone call him black?
"You look like the statue of a god," she said, not even trying to hide her stared.
"So do you. A goddess of fertility," he said with a smile. "All lush ripe breasts and hips and graceful cushiony thighs, just perfect for cradling my whole body."
The image was a powerful one which had her thoughts swirling anew with the most erotic images. She could barely soap herself below the waist she felt so aroused.
"And you’re like a divine being sent down from Mount Olympus. Your huge hands hold me so tenderly. Your wonderful fingers whisper over me, thrilling me to the core. And your rather impressive and awe-inspiring set of male attributes I can’t seem to take my eyes off do the most remarkable things to me. Your lips and tongue too. And I just want to do all the same things to you." She reached out to stroke one thigh.
"But not now, love. Not unless you fancy me either fainting with desire for you, or cutting my own throat with this razor by accident," he said unsteadily, halting her hand’s progress.
"Sorry, love."
"Don’t apologise. I adore having an inquisitive bride. We just need to go slowly."
"I guess patience isn’t such a strong suit of mine after all."
He laughed at that. "You won't hear me complaining. But it’s a condition of the mind. Fish that soap out of the tub and meditate on it while I finish up here."
She did as he asked, admiring its color, texture, scent, until she was startled by the sound of his voice.
"You’ve been diligent, I can see," he said, gazing down at her with an odd expression on his face.
"How can you tell?
"I called you name twice before, but you didn’t hear me."
"Oh, sorry." She blinked, wondering where she had gone in her mind.
"No don’t apologise. It’s a good thing." Ash gave her a loving smile. "Excellent focus. You can come out now and I’ll dry you, and then have a quick wash and head up to our rooms."
"Rooms?" she echoed.
Ash flashed her one of his excited boyish grins. "You’ll see."
Chapter Twenty-three
Once they got upstairs to Ash’s wing of the house, the first room he led her to was decorated sumptuously with thick Turkey carpet under foot in a burgundy and deep blue, with matching solid-coloured hangings and curtains.
It was warm and inviting, with a fire burning in the large hearth. It was a room intended for a couple, with a huge four-poster bed, and matching rosewood furniture, including several dressers, two mirrored wardrobes, two comfortable arm chairs and two desks.
She noticed that some of the things she had brought over from Jerome Manor already decorated one of the dressers, and she saw her practical red flannel dressing gown laid out on the bed as if it had always been there.
She clutched the silk wrapper he had given her around herself more tightly, enjoying its sensual caress. It was as if it were a part of her, a part she had tried to deny….
She shivered at the thought. Well, if she had, it had also been denied to her by all the men who had tried to toss her on her back like a strumpet, with no thought for her pleasure or needs, only their own.
But Ash was different. That was why she had married him. And if this room was anything to judge by, he wanted nothing but beauty and warmth in their lives.
"Oh, it’s lovely, Ash, truly," she said as she stared at everything in awe.
"This will be our regular room, for sleeping and dressing and reading and being withdrawn away from the rest of the world either by ourselves or together. I hope always together. But this," he said, leading her to a door on the left, "is our special room, our boudoir of bliss."
He opened the door, and she gasped. She could hardly credit that he had created anything so spectacular for her at such short notice. She wondered with a shiver of barely suppressed desire if this was what a harem looked like.
Much of the room was draped with silks in iridescent gold, copper and bronze, from the tables to the low wide divan bed. There were also some fine brocade sofas, cushions of all different shapes and sizes, silk throws, and hassocks in the same tones.
"They’re actually sari fabric. Mother helped me decorate sensibly but inexpensively."
"Still, they look like real silk."
"They are."
She stroked down the fabric on the sofa. "Oh my, they’re exquisite. And that divan," she said admiring the Drouget pattern in gold and deep brown and green, with a silk throw draped over one end of it.
"Yes, that was a real find."
"It all was, by the looks of things."
She admired the multiplicity of cushions and then the table, which was laden with all sort of little luxuries, strawberries, a bottle of champagne, chocolates, marzipan fruits.
There was a fire burning in the the grate and a small pot for making tea nearby. The room was redolent of rose petals and heady incense. The low candles gave off a lambent light which made the room glow and sparkle seductively.
"The bathroom is through there, by the way," he said, pointing to a closed door in the corner. It adjoins both rooms. I didn’t want to spoil the surprise so we bathed downstairs. You’ll be happy to hear that the tub in this one is big enough for a family of four. The nursery is next door to the main room, by the way."
"My, you have thought of everything," she said with a smile.
"I’m a bit new to this, but I have tried. And now, I think I’d like to share a few more romantic things with you again. Unless of course you’re hungry." He indicated the spread. "We have bread, cheese and fruit—"
She shook her head. "Not now. At the moment the only thing I’m hungry for is more knowledge and pleasure."
"Very good then. Lie in the middle of the bed—"
"Which, the blue, or the gold?"
"Whichever you prefer."
She chose the gold pallet in the bower of bliss.
"So lie directly in the middle, on the pillows, on your back. I’m going to pleasure you just by kissing and touching your face."
She smiled gently. "That’s easy. One kiss from you and I melt."
"The same for me, dear. But I need to concentrate."
She rested her hands on her belly, but he moved them to lie flat on the mattress.
"You can touch yourself, of course, but let’s just start out with you concentrating on the sensations I evoke."
She felt a moment’s consternation as Ash got into the bed, but he told her to make sure her legs were tightly together so she didn’t feel nervous.
"I gave you my word. But I wouldn’t want to touch you by accident either if it’s going to worry you."
"Accident? But surely you’re going to-"
But he was soon all over the bed on both sides of her, and even above her head as he experimented, trying to kiss her from every possible angle.
From light pecks to butterfly kisses with his eyelashes, to a deep driving thrust with his tongue which mimicked the act of love itself, he nuzzled, licked, kissed and nibbled, leaving no part of her face untouched. Remarkably he did not even use his hands.
She could see why he had shaved as his cheek stroked up and down over her face. She was sure she must have climaxed three times, though the third time, when she understood what was really happening to her, he resisted her hands trying to pull him onto her body. Her first two orgasms were the steady buzz of continuous pleasure he had spoken about.
But as his lips locked over hers and his tongue filled her mouth with one long glide, she lifted her hands from the mattress and arched up against his body. He pinned her down with his
mouth and shoulder. At last she lay still and panting, scarcely able to open her eyes.
He cradled her lightly against his body, making no move to crush her against him. The smooth glide of his skin was a caress all of its own. "You cheated a bit there, my dear, but we’ll forgive you your impatience. You certainly are a most passionate woman."
"You evoke it within me."
"You don’t know how much that delights me."
"As much as it delights me, I hope," she said with a grin and flutter of her eyelashes.
He lay there kissing her for a time longer, and then said, "Ready for more?"
She nodded wordlessly. He offered her hand up and had her sit on the divan with her back against the arm. He brought one hassock over to place it nearby and sat on it. She noticed he had picked up a hairbrush from the small mirrored dresser and now explained, "I’m going to do your scalp and hair. Just make yourself comfortable."
He took down her long tresses with infinite care, and started with his fingers kneading her scalp all over from base of her neck to the crown of her head.
By the time he swept the brush down over her silken blond tresses, she was on fire.
"Oh Ash, please kiss me."
He cupped the nape of her neck and tilted her head backwards until she was suspended over the back of the arm of the divan and their lips met, nose to chin. The tip of his tongue began to trace her lips in a round ‘O’ and she felt herself bubbling over just under her skin, just at the entrance to her womanhood.
He moved his lips over her until their mouths were angled acutely and he pressed in. She reached for his hand and moved it toward her breast, but he placed it on her neck instead. Now both hands began to explore that part of her fully. He lifted his lips and she was almost wild-eyed with need.
"Oh, darling, I love to taste you, feel you against me, feel you inside my body," she said, and it was no lie she told. She loved suckling his tongue, despite having thought once not all that long ago that kisses were the most repellent things imaginable. But nothing was disgusting about Ash; every inch of him was glorious.
"You need to relax, keep everything simmering. So we’re going to have a little snack."
"How can you think of food at time like this?" she muttered, rather peeved at his rock-hard control.
"Ah, because food and drink can be a wonderful stimulant that can even be incorporated into the lovemaking."
He popped the champagne cork and grinned. He brought one glass and a bowl of strawberries over to the divan and sat facing her cross-legged. She could barely take her eyes off the huge swell of his loins, but he demanded gently, "Look into my eyes."
He bit into the end of the strawberry slowly, his golden eyes glowing. He leaned forward to kiss her and she could feel the flesh of the fruit sliding in between her own lips. She shuddered and started back for a second, her face flaming with desire, her nipples instantly hard.
"Oh my. I’m sorry. That was well, remarkable," she said, around the piece of fruit.
"Now give it back to me."
She giggled a bit, but did as he instructed.
"Now the champagne."
He took some in his mouth to swallow, then took a second sip and pressed his lips to hers. She opened her mouth, and the wine poured in. She groaned and swallowed convulsively, almost unable to breathe with wanting him.
"Try again, only this time, give it back to me," he whispered.
She moved closer. He kissed it into her mouth. As he leaned back, she leaned forward and poured it into his mouth. They alternated strawberries and wine for a time, until she begged, "Please kiss me deeply."
He did as she asked, allowing his own flesh to glide fully into her mouth, the fizz of the wine and tang of berries still on their tongues heightening the pleasure until she could feel herself climbing to ever more dizzying pinnacles.
He reached over and took up a marzipan fruit, which he bit into lightly. He placed his mouth upon hers and they both began to nibble at the sweetmeat, passing it between them.
Next they heated some dark chocolate by the fire. He added milk and a spoonful of honey and brought it over the bed to share as well. It was warm, wet and inviting and she reached for his hand. He did not place it on her body, but began to massage her hands instead as they sipped.
She put down the cup and held her breath as his fingers worked a magic all of their own up her hand and then her wrists. She began to explore his hands in turn, and their mouths joined every so often in tender kisses which began to deepen. He pulled away shakily at last and took a deep breath.
"We need to go to sleep, dearest. This is far too thrilling for me."
"And me."
"I’m glad. But it was a big day for us both and I’d like us to rest now." He scooped her up into his arms and carried her back to their regular bed chamber and laid her down gently.
"Are you not getting in?" she asked, disappointed.
"I was waiting to be invited."
"Well, we are married."
"I just need to warn you that most men wake up on the alert, as it were. I don’t want you to be frightened. Sometimes it’s just physical, and other times it will be with sexual intent. For me it will always be intent with you by my side, but I promise you I’m not going to jump on you."
"Pity, really," she said, eyeing him with unabashed interest.
"Now, now, good things come to those who wait."
"But I’ve been waiting weeks," she said with a pretty pout.
"Ah, yes, but anticipation makes it even more exciting."
She sighed. "I’ll take your word for it."
"How about I give you one of my special kisses, and then you’ll sleep?"
"All right," she said doubtfully.
But he was not exaggerating. She felt so overwhelmed by her feelings as he kissed her that she collapsed with exhaustion and slept, leaving her husband safely outside the covers, burning for her with an acuteness bordering on agony, but pleased overall with the first night of their married life together, and looking forward to so much more to come.
Chapter Twenty-four
While their wedding night had not been one in the traditional sense of the word, Ellen was glad in a way, for she still felt the tension within herself at Ash’s presence.
But her fears, doubts and embarrassment were gradually eroding under his tender regard. She adored being with her husband, feeling so safe, yet loved. She was in a perpetual state of pleasant excitement which tingled all over as they walked, ate, or simply held each other.
They spent their first day unpacking and generally playing house. Ellen marvelled at the novelty of spending so much time with her spouse in such a wanton manner.
Ash had insisted she put on one of the silk robes he had bought for her, and to leave her hair unbound and flowing.
He had lovingly fed her breakfast from a single plate and fork they had shared, and insisted she go back to bed for a rest afterward.
His idea of resting including kissing and caressing her lightly. Once again she revelled in the fiery sensation which scorched through her.
In the evening after their bath and another bout of kissing and caressing, he rose and moved her back to the divan, picking up a small jar as he went.
She raised her brows questioningly.
"Honey."
"Oh my."
"Would you like to go first?"
"And do what with it?"
"Anything you like. But I’m going to start with your fingers and see where it takes me."
They reclined on the pillows facing each other. He poured the honey onto his hand and then grasped hers. He began to lick the dripping golden liquid from each of her digits, while she did the same.
She felt another huge surge between her legs and tried to drag his hand downwards. She bent her knee and rammed both their hands against her delicate whorl and gave a small cry. He moved one finger against her and she almost rocketed off the bed.
"Easy love, easy," he said, gentling her hair
back from her face as she sobbed out her passion against his mouth.
"That was wonderful. It just keeps getting better every time," she said in wonder.
"I’m glad."
"But what about you?" she asked after a time. "Are you still simmering?"
"See for yourself. "
She dared to look down. "May I touch him now, do you think?"
"Yes, you may. I’m going to probably not be able to resist you after all of these most wonderful delights, but I can try."
The Rakehell Regency Romance Series Boxed Set 5 Page 59