by Golden Angel
Her offer of her bottom hole both amused and concerned him, because he knew she didn't like that very much at all. There was no way his wife was going to leave his bed anything but blissfully satisfied.
Pushing both of her arms up above her head, he grasped her wrists in one hand so that he could free up the other hand. "It won't ever hurt like that again, sweetheart. That was your virginity being breached. Now that it's gone, everything will feel much better."
The suspicious look she gave him would have been insulting if it wasn't so amusing. It changed immediately as he caressed down her body, pinching her nipple on the way, until he could flatten his palm across her hip and reach between them to rub her clitoris with his thumb. The expression on her face shifted to cautious wonderment as she clenched around him and then gasped. As soon as her muscles relaxed, Wesley took the opportunity to rock himself forward, thrusting a few more inches into her body.
"Oh!" Her back arched, thrusting her breasts up at him, as her head fell back and she offered up her vulnerable throat to him. Leaning down, Wesley nipped at the soft skin, continuing to rub slow circles over her clit, giving her as much additional sensation as possible to help with the slow invasion of her deflowered pussy. The tight channel fluttered around him as he pushed in, testing his self-control with its hot grip, making him want to sink into her over and over again, hard and fast, until he filled her with his seed.
One day he'd be able to do that, but not today when she was too new to the activity. He wasn't exactly small, or even moderately sized, and she was going to be sore enough after this.
"That feels... oh goodness..." Cynthia writhed as he worked himself deeper, her arms only tugging slightly at his hold on her wrists. In some ways, it was easier for her to accept him into her body now that she wasn't able to move or try and push him away. Besides, the way he was rubbing her clit had her clenching in pleasure, even though the stinging burn of inner muscles stretching hadn't quite subsided.
"Good girl," he whispered, before leaning over and capturing her lips. He shifted again, laying his full length over her as his hand traveled back up her body.
That was when Cynthia realized he must be fully inside of her.
He hadn't lied, the movements he'd made didn't hurt in the same way at all. Not from when he'd first entered her and not the same as when he'd gone in the bad hole. Now it just felt like she was stretched and so very full, but it felt much better and much less shameful than when he filled her other hole. The stretch didn't burn quite as much, it didn't feel as though she should be pushing him out... in fact, having him inside of her like this, with his weight on top of her, felt so wonderfully right than she thought she could stay just like this forever.
Then he started to move.
Even though his thumb was no longer caressing her clit, the little bud was swollen and sensitive, and when he fully sheathed himself inside of her again, his body pressed up against it in the most amazing way. Cynthia cried out, lifting her hips, trying to get more contact as the ecstasy buzzed through her body. His kiss was demanding as he slowly thrust in and out of her pussy, his tongue spearing her at the same time that his cock did, muffling her cries and moans.
She could feel every inch of him, rubbing inside of her, hard and hot and so very fulfilling. It was far, far better than when he'd put his fingers in her.
Slowly his movements began to come faster, harder, and his lips pulled away from hers as they both panted for breath. His expression was almost a grimace as he pumped his hips, making the most incredible groaning noises that seemed to pierce her right down to her core. Cynthia couldn't believe how wild, how primitive he looked. Naked and above her, joined with her, it was shockingly intimate and improper.
"Put your arms around my neck," he ordered as he released her wrists.
She obeyed with alacrity, wanting to hold onto him. To touch him. Her fingers slid into his hair as he changed his position slightly, both of his hands sliding under her body to grip her buttocks. The welts stung as his fingers dug into her fleshy bottom, forcing her to tilt her hips upwards, but that was nothing compared to the surge of ecstasy as his cock rubbed over the most wonderful spot inside of her. The pleasure soared higher as, at the end of his stroke, his body pressed against her clit and the two jolts of sensation connected.
Without realizing it, Cynthia clawed at his shoulders, coming apart beneath him as he ground himself against her sensitive pussy. The clenching tremors of her muscles nearly undid him, but Wesley grit his teeth and held on to his own release. He had his pride after all.
"Oh... oh Wesley... I can't... it's too much... I've never... OH!"
The shock and awe on her face were wiped out by rapture as she screamed with passion, obviously overcome by an immense climax, the likes of which she'd never experienced. It was exactly what he'd been aiming for, waiting for, as he'd positioned her so that both her inner and outer sweet spots had been stimulated by his thrusting. Now he could let himself go.
Cynthia screamed again, writhing and dragging her nails down his back as she shook with the intensity of her orgasm, which was only increasing as he began to seek his own pleasure. The pounding thrusts between her thighs had her pussy spasming. They came much harder and faster than before, as Wesley wallowed in the tight sheath of her body, fucking her as hard as he could.
He wanted every inch of her to feel him, to submit to him.
"Mine," he growled, feeling the tingling in the base of his spine that signaled his own oncoming orgasm. She was his, all his, and no other man's. Ever.
"YES!" she screamed, as he got even harder, thicker inside of her.
Tears were leaking down her face, which he was sure she was unaware of, her body straining against his. Her pussy convulsed and squeezed, and he groaned her name into her hair as he thrust home one final time and began to empty himself inside of her. They rocked together, his groin grinding against her clit and swollen lips as jet after jet of thick cream completed her deflowering.
He continued to rock, his movements becoming more gentle as she jerked beneath him, whimpering from the onslaught of overwhelming sensations. Slowly they came back to earth together as he kissed the salty tears from her cheeks, stroking her hair and soothing her... calming her... The tempestuous currents that had carried her away slowed and eddied, allowing her to relax her grip on his shoulders.
From the sting, he'd have marks there tomorrow. Possibly for several days to come. The thought made him grin.
"Oh!" she whispered, shuddering again as his softened cock finally fell from its warm haven. "That felt so strange."
Snorting, Wesley carefully rolled off of her, getting up to retrieve a cloth and wet it in the basin. When he turned back around, his bride was right where he'd left her, soft brown curls resting on the pillow, her arms at her sides, and her legs still spread. The sight of pink cream smearing her inner thighs made him feel both guilty that he'd hurt her when he'd taken her maidenhead and intensely, possessively, triumphant in a barbaric way.
She watched with half-lidded eyes, not the least bit bothered by any kind of modesty, as he carefully cleaned the mess they had made, sighing a bit with relief as the cool cloth swept over her heated pussy.
When Wesley returned to the bed, after wiping his cock clean as well, he pulled Cynthia to the other side of the large piece of furniture, away from the lingering dampness on the sheets. She snuggled into him immediately, her hand resting on his chest, making a sound of sleepy contentment.
"Well, baggage, what do you think of sex?" he asked, twining one of her curls about his finger. It wasn't the kind of question he'd ever asked a lover, but he was curious about her answer.
"It's not going to hurt at the beginning every time, is it?" she asked, her voice lilting a bit with sleepiness.
"No, sweetheart," he reassured her, feeling the smallest pang of remorse. "It was only this once."
"Mmm. Then it was worth it."
Wesley chuckled at the satisfied way she said it. His coc
k responded as well, but he knew she needed some rest. A nap. They had plenty of time for more bed play. Their whole lives in fact.
A year ago he wouldn't have thought it possible to be this satisfied, thinking about having just one woman in his bed for the rest of his life. But he was savagely determined that she be his, all and only his. And he would be hers.
******
"Well, I don't think they'll be coming back," Eleanor said, highly amused by Wesley's antics. His mother looked equally resigned and pleased as her son carried Cynthia away from the room. Probably weighing the social scandal (which wouldn't be all that great, really, as newlyweds were always granted quite a bit of leeway) against the possibility of grandbabies sooner rather than later.
Speaking of...
"Are you ready to go, my dear?" Eleanor's father put his hand down on her mother's shoulder, taking the Countess' attention away from Grace. Her mother looked up and smiled.
"Yes, I think so."
Before Eleanor could speak up, Edwin was already stepping forward, keeping one hand on the back of her neck. It was no longer a teasing touch, but more possessive than anything else. As if he couldn't bear not to touch her. She rather liked it, even if she didn't want to like anything about him right now. He may have stopped teasing her, but that didn't mean her body's needs had quieted.
"May Eleanor and I accompany you? We'd like some time with you before we depart tomorrow."
The Countess brightened, beaming at her son-in-law. "Yes, that would be lovely." She turned her head to look at Grace. "Would you like to come too, dear?"
The invitation was made out of social necessity, although Eleanor didn't mind if Grace was there when she and Edwin told her parents that she was with child. But Alex was suddenly standing beside his wife as well, holding out his hand to help her stand.
"Grace and I are staying in tonight," he said mildly, his voice ever so polite, but firm as well. "We have our own discussions that we need to have."
Grace bit down on her lip and shot Eleanor a look as she placed her hand in Alex's and stood. Eleanor could only shrug in response. Even though she did think that Alex and Grace should talk, she couldn't blame her friend for wanting to wait until tomorrow. But there was nothing Eleanor could do right now.
"Write to me, as soon as you arrive," she said to Grace, accepting Edwin's hand to help her stand. He came around from behind the chairs so that he could stand next to her, his hand on the small of her back. Again, not teasing, and yet her body reacted anyway.
Damn him.
"I will," Grace promised. They kept their voices light, but Eleanor was quite sure that neither of the men were fooled. Surprisingly, Alex just smiled at her.
Then again, perhaps she shouldn't be surprised when he'd praised her loyal friendship to Grace in the past. Still, she hadn't thought he would still be appreciative when it was his actions she was checking up on. That smile reassured her more than anything else could have.
Eleanor was sure that Grace and Alex could have a happy marriage like the rest of them, because she was sure that they were in love with each other. If only they could bring themselves to admit it.
"I wonder if Wesley and Cynthia will come visit when the others do," Edwin said, musing, on their way out. "Or if they'll be too ah... busy."
"They had better not be that busy," Eleanor said, her hand automatically going to her stomach, where her and Edwin's child rested. "I'll want friends around."
Edwin's dark eyes glowed as he looked down at her. Taking her hand in his, he raised it to his lips. "Then I'll make sure they’re there, love."
Frustrated with her husband or not, Eleanor's heart filed with warmth.
Chapter 13
It was such a lovely day that Alex chose to dismiss the coachman and walk with Grace back to their house. She seemed tense for some reason. Being cooped up in a closed carriage with him, even for a short period of time, probably wouldn't help, he decided. They had made a great deal of progress in becoming more easy in each other’s company, but today she’d seemed to take a step back from that.
Indeed, she relaxed the moment he suggested strolling home.
The hot air didn't seem to bother her at all as she turned her face to the sun, basking in its glow. Alex couldn't help but smile, remembering the scandalized high sticklers back at Wesley's wedding brunch, all of them horrified that he'd carried his bride off while it was still daylight. At his and Grace's wedding, he wouldn't have dared to do such a thing. They'd waited, very properly, for that night to consummate. Although he wished he'd had the balls to do as Wesley had.
He wished he had the balls to do it right now. It was probably fortunate that he didn't, as Grace would not thank him for carrying her off down the street. They were causing enough talk as it was, just by being in each other's presence.
"Did you have a good talk with Eleanor and her mother?" he asked. He already knew that she had, she'd been smiling the entire time, but he didn't want to spend the entire walk in silence. Perhaps they couldn't discuss the important issues, but he enjoyed conversing with her, and the more they did so, the more natural it was becoming again. Their conversations had become much less stilted, especially over the past few days.
"Yes, it was lovely to see Lady Harrington," Grace said, a sincere smile flitting across her face, before wariness edged into her expression again. She peeked up at him through her lashes, watching him.
It was something he'd seen a lot from her, both when he'd first started courting her, and since he'd demanded a reconciliation. As if she was watching him, waiting to see what he would do, and hiding herself from him until she was sure he wasn't a threat. Alex was fairly certain the tactic came from when she lived in her father's household.
As if making some kind of decision, her chin lifted a bit. "She and my mother are very good friends, you know."
"Yes, I remember," he replied, smiling as he looked down at her. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a passerby gawking at them. Possibly because they'd both been recognized together, or possibly because he'd been recognized and been seen smiling.
The smile worked on Grace. She seemed to relax and started to tell him about Lady Harrington's recent charitable activities around Bath, Eleanor and Edwin's intention to stay at the Manse for the foreseeable future, and everything else that she'd talked about with them. Alex was content to let her talk, occasionally adding his own observations or thoughts, and just enjoy walking beside his wife while she actually conversed with him. They were the very picture of matrimonial harmony. He just hoped they could become more than the picture.
******
By dinnertime, Grace was starting to feel hunted.
At first she'd enjoyed Alex's efforts to spend time with her after the wedding. They'd walked and talked, and it had been almost like old times. He'd listened quite attentively and never seemed to become bored or annoyed with her chatter, although she'd focused on the most mundane and trivial of topics. She'd been quite careful to avoid any conversation that could lead to the more serious issues between them.
When they'd returned home, she'd expected him to go to his study, which he had, but he'd joined her in the library after barely an hour when she'd thought she wouldn't see him again till dinnertime. At first it had been uncomfortable to have him sitting so closely to her, on the same couch, even if he was concentrating on his own book. After a bit, he'd asked what she was reading, and she'd been almost relieved to tell him about the silly Gothic romance she'd been pretending to read.
Pretending, because once he'd sat down, she'd barely been able to concentrate on the book. She'd turned pages, but only because she hadn't wanted him to know how distracted he made her. With his presence crowding the couch, his body heat so close to hers, she'd become rather tense, waiting for whatever he was going to do. Wondering if he would try to seduce her again. Kiss her. Or even touch her at all.
When he'd kept to his side of the couch, the tension had spooled about her unbearably, tightening with every pa
ssing minute. She'd started to wonder if she wanted his attention. If she wanted him to try and seduce her. His query about her reading material had allowed her to put the book down and stop pretending.
Strangely, he seemed almost interested in the ridiculous plot. Grace enjoyed her Gothic romances because of their darkness, their silliness... but she certainly hadn't expected to witness her husband chuckling at her villainous description of the Mad Baron and his evil plans. She'd almost jumped out of her seat when Alex had laid his arm out on the couch back behind her, leaning forward to inspect the cover of the book. Her heart had leapt up into her throat, fluttering madly, as he invaded her space.
Heat flushed her cheeks.
It wasn't that her reaction was new - it certainly wasn't - but it seemed to have intensified since last night. When she'd let him, begged him, to make love to her. At the wedding and the brunch, they'd been far enough apart that she could retain her peace of mind.
Now, alone in their house, it was all she could think about.
"I'm feeling a bit warm," she'd said, hastily getting to her feet. "I think I'll take a stroll in the garden."
Alex had studied her face as he stood, taking the book from her hands and placing it down on the couch. "I'll join you."
Once in the garden, she hadn't been able to think of anything to talk about, so she'd questioned him more about the estates. He'd talked to her of them on the carriage ride to Bath, but she hadn't been quite in the mood to listen at the time.
Listening to his enthusiasm about the estates, she was again reminded of the Alex that she'd married. He didn't just tell her about his plans or what was happening, but also what he hoped to achieve in the future, what he would like her to look into... the small things that indicated he saw her as a wife and partner and not just a figurehead. Not the way her mother had been part of the pretty family picture her father had painted, the way he'd expected Grace and her sisters to become similar pictures. She wondered if, once he heard that she and Alex had reconciled, she might be able to see her mother and sisters again. They'd all adhered to his edict of silence when it came to her, which she didn't blame them for. Besides, it meant she hadn't had to listen to pressure or guilt from them about her behavior; equally it meant that her scandalous behavior hadn't reflected upon her sisters once they'd begun looking for husbands. It was well known she was the black sheep of her family and that they'd cut her off.