It seemed ridiculous, however it was also a considerate gesture. He tapped his knuckles on the center of the solid wooden door, then opened it, drawing the line at waiting to be granted permission to enter.
The chamber was bathed in soft candlelight, the fire in the grate banked to a red glow. A quick glance revealed that Emma was already in bed.
Anxious or terrified? He was about to find out.
Raising his own candle higher, Jon approached the bed. For a long moment he simply looked at his bride. Her breathing was slow and steady and he wondered if she feigned sleep. Was she dreading the consummation of their vows?
A depressing thought.
He stepped closer. The flickering light gleamed across Emma’s womanly form beneath the sheets. He imagined himself spreading a slow path of tender, erotic kisses down the length of those luscious curves, heating her body to the edge of passion and then bringing them both to a screaming release.
She mumbled suddenly and turned onto her back. Her unbound hair spread across her pillow like a silken cloth, strands of amber mixed within the brown. He wondered how many brush strokes it had taken to untangle that monstrosity of a hairdo she had sported at dinner.
“Emma,” he whispered.
She stirred again, murmuring. The covers slipped, revealing bare shoulders. He drew in a sharp breath. She wasn’t wearing a nightgown. She wasn’t wearing anything.
The chamber suddenly felt very hot.
Jon went still as seductive fantasies took hold. There was something deeply erotic about a woman prepared and waiting to be awakened with physical pleasure. Taking a deep breath, he sought to temper his hunger and rein in his burgeoning desire.
Establishing a physical bond between them would bring a sense of normalcy to their marriage. But not if he fell upon her like a ravishing beast.
He cleared his throat. Loudly. Emma’s eyelids fluttered and she slowly opened her eyes. The uncertainty he saw there hit him like a bucket of frigid water, effectively dousing his ardor.
He had no idea what had possessed her to leave her nightgown off. Maybe her sister had advised it. Whatever the reason, it did not negate the fact that she was inexperienced.
He needed to move slowly or else this could turn into a disaster for both of them. This first taste of pleasure they shared as husband and wife should be more than the urge to satisfy a physical need.
Tenderness and sweet words would help make that happen. He could be tender and gentle. But the sweet words? Could he say them to a woman he didn’t love? Would it sound forced? Insincere?
“Jon?” Her eyes were fully open and she was watching him with a mixture of curiosity and unease.
“Were you expecting someone else?” he joked nervously.
She seemed startled by his remark. Wincing slightly, she sat up, affording him a delicious view of her gorgeous breasts before hastily pulling the sheet to her neck. He’d never seen a woman with such fine skin, creamy white with a faint glow of a blush-colored rose.
“Whatever do you mean?” she queried.
“A joke, madam, and a poor one at that.”
Silence hung between them for what felt like an eternity. Yet in truth it was but a few moments.
His gaze roamed her face and form. The bed was so high they were nearly at eye level.
“You’re shivering, Emma,” he finally said.
“Nerves,” she replied.
He put his hands in hers. “Do you want me to leave?” he asked, calling himself ten times a fool for suggesting it. But if that was what she wanted . . .
“’Tis our wedding night.”
“There will be other nights.”
She worried her lower lip between her teeth. “Do you want to go?”
Hell no! He swallowed, adjusting the front of his dressing gown to hide his bulging erection. “I want this part of our marriage to be enjoyable for both of us,” he admitted.
She blushed. “A sentiment that I share.”
He moved closer. “You are a virgin.” He said it deliberately, not as a question but as a statement to avoid insulting her.
“Are you?” She bristled.
Jon smiled, ignoring the indignant challenge in her tone. Even nervous and uncertain, Emma’s strong spirit refused to be crushed.
“There is no judgment in my words, only inquiry,” he clarified. “Women are usually shielded from the facts of carnal relations, which in turn can lead to all sorts of misinformation and anxiety.”
Rather than appreciating his forethought, she appeared affronted by it. “I’m not naïve or ignorant. I know what’s going to happen. Dorothea explained everything.”
“Ah, understanding and experiencing are two very different matters.”
A deep frown appeared on her face. “Yes, well, of course.”
“Is there anything you would like to ask me?”
Eyeing him cautiously, she shook her head. “You are not a virgin,” she said, copying his prior tone, making her words a statement, not a question.
“Does that bother you?”
Both of her eyebrows lifted. “I suppose ’tis best if one of us knows what to expect.”
His lips quirked into a grin. “Now why do I get the distinct feeling that you would prefer to be the one with the knowledge?”
She smiled and lowered her chin. “I don’t care much for surprises.”
“Nor do I.” He reached down and touched her cheek with his knuckle, stroking it slowly. “I want this to be pleasurable for you, Emma.”
She raised her chin. Her eyes opened wider, sparkling and clear as a summer sky. “I trust you,” she whispered.
Damn! Such a simple, pure statement, yet it touched him deeply. “An excellent beginning.”
It was time to make Emma truly his wife.
* * *
Emma rubbed the soft sheet between nervous fingers and tried to steady her breathing. She had fallen asleep waiting for him. Jon. Her husband.
She hadn’t heard him enter her bedchamber. She’d been dreaming. Strange, disjointed images had swirled through her unconscious mind, leaving her feeling restless, unsettled. Then the soft, whispered sound of her name had pulled her back to reality.
And now Jon stood beside her bed, silhouetted in the romantic glow of candlelight, dressed in a long silk robe. The sight of his solid, powerful frame raised the hair on the back of her neck, bringing a tingling sensation through her body.
He said that he wanted this part of their marriage to be pleasurable. She believed him. She remembered the kisses they had shared in his workshop. They had been enticing, exciting, sparking her curiosity. She felt an attraction for him that she concluded was desire.
Yet she was still nervous. This was the most intimate, vulnerable act between a man and a woman. Was she ready to experience it with him?
Jon leaned forward and gathered her in his arms. The palms of her hands rested against his chest. Even through the layer of his robe, Emma could feel the solid strength of his muscles as he eased himself against her.
“Forgive me for waking you,” he said huskily, his fingertips skimming over her hair. “You must have been very tired.”
“I haven’t slept much these last few nights,” she admitted.
His eyes gleamed. “Then I shall apologize in advance for keeping you from your slumber again tonight.”
Jon’s face was so close that Emma could feel the clean warmth of his breath, and her senses went weak with anticipation of the kiss that she knew would be forthcoming.
She lifted her arm to hold him close and felt the sheet slip as her breasts popped from the covers. She had not intended to come to bed naked, but the delicate nightgown Dorothea had suggested she wear had been ill-fitting, pushing so tightly against her breasts it had been difficult to breathe.
Emma had removed it, trying to decide if she should search through the wardrobe for one of her plain, simple nightgowns. Instead she had slid naked between the covers and the comfort of the bed and the soft feel of the
sheets had brought on a relaxed languor to her tired limbs.
But now she was very much awake. She watched her husband from under lowered lids, breathlessly waiting for him to capture her lips, but instead he strung a sweet line of kisses along her throat. A shiver went through her as his clever lips found the most sensitive spots.
With a moan catching in her throat, Emma angled her head so their lips would meet. He kissed her teasingly, sliding his tongue along her lips before parting them and slipping inside. She quivered at the contact of his hot tongue thrusting fervently between her lips, excitedly exploring her mouth.
Jon drew back. He flung off the robe and lay beside her, propping his head up on his elbow. The mattress gave beneath his weight. Chest still heaving with excitement from his kisses, Emma spent a moment admiring his naked physique. Not dispassionately with her usual artist’s eye, but as a woman.
She was fascinated by the strength and beauty of his body. He was firmly muscled with a narrow waist, slim hips, and long legs. Her glance started at his broad shoulders, drew across his chest, then followed the lean contours of his stomach to his waist. The candlelight glinted off the nest of hair covering his groin, his aroused penis standing tall.
A slow smile curved her mouth. He was magnificent. She liked what she saw. Liked too that he was so comfortable in his own nudity. Unable to resist, she ran her hand across his chest, along his ribs and down to the narrow trail of hair over his belly, marveling at the rigid muscles.
She looked up into his face and saw his eyes darken with passion. His chest rose and fell sharply, his flesh trembling beneath her touch.
“Don’t stop now,” he whispered throatily.
Emboldened, Emma went lower and closed her fingers around his stiff penis, feeling the weight of him in her palm. Beneath the rock hard length, his flesh was hot, the skin soft. It was a moment of raw, sensual discovery that gave her a heady sense of power and delight.
“Do you like it when I touch you?” she asked throatily.
Teasingly, she ran her fingertips along his length, rubbing the moisture that seeped from the head in a slow circle, coating it in sticky warmth. His hips arched and he grabbed her chin, lifting it.
His eyes were dark with passion. He groaned, low and deep, bucking against her hand, pulsing and growing larger. “Hold me tighter,” he grimaced, his face contorting in both pleasure and pain.
She did as he asked, stroking and squeezing. He moaned and reached for her, his warm hands cupping her full and aching breasts. He thumbed the nipples and they stiffened, arching into his palm.
Heat swelled inside her. She pressed closer, nuzzling her face beneath the strong cords of his neck, burrowing deeper. Jon’s hand glided downward, moving over her rib cage, brushing the tops of her thighs.
The fingers clutching his penis grew slack and he pulled himself away. Deprived of her sexy new toy, Emma cried out in protest.
“No! Come back,” she exclaimed breathlessly.
“In a few minutes,” he murmured, his voice low and husky. “When you are ready to take me inside you.”
His warm, wet lips pressed against the curve of her breast. Emma twisted, allowing him greater access and he greedily accepted her invitation.
Pulling the nipple into his mouth, he sucked. Emma held back a moan of excitement. Her mind was spinning out of control and all she could do was bask in the arousal.
Jon’s mouth left her breast and traveled lower. Down her side, across her stomach. He kissed her inner thigh, then spread her legs wider with his strong hands. She could feel the warmth of his breath on her damp curls as he bent his head closer. Though her body throbbed and ached, she tensed, unsure if she was ready for such intimacy.
“Jon, I . . .”
“Relax,” he cooed.
Was he joking? Wantonly spread and exposed before him and he expected her to relax?
Emma’s hands flailed at her sides as she concentrated on trying to conquer her embarrassment. His fingers joined his mouth and tongue, kneading and stroking and she cried out. She could feel her inner muscles tighten and she became lost in a web of passion.
The languid strokes of his tongue over her delicate flesh drove her wild. Restlessly, Emma spread her legs wider, her body straining toward him. The embers of desire caught inside her, spreading heat throughout her trembling body.
“Let it happen,” Jon coaxed.
She groaned and felt her inhibitions slipping away at the excitement of his wicked caresses. His tongue darted out, licking and laving her sensitive core. Shivering, Emma buried her fingers in his hair, moving her legs and lower body urgently as the sensations built and climbed within her.
The rush of blood pounding in her ears reminded Emma of the sea. The world around her slipped away as she concentrated only on the wild pleasure that Jon was stirring within her. Biting her lips to keep her screams at bay, she struggled to reach fulfillment.
Then suddenly, unexpectedly, it broke over her. Brightness lit behind her eyes and Emma threw back her head and gasped as the heat spread from her core and crested through her entire body in a shower of hot ecstasy.
Emma shuddered, willing her heavy breathing to steady and fighting the urge to pull the sheet and cover her face. Abandon. Total and utter abandon. The feeling was indescribable—raw and exposed, yet amazingly joyful.
Her thoughts and body floated and drifted as she basked in the afterglow of pure pleasure. Gradually she became aware of a tender caress starting on her thighs and ending at her ankles. She looked down the length of her body.
Jon raised his head and gazed into her eyes. He was still positioned between her splayed legs. Emma blushed, hoping the candlelight hid her reaction, then laughed at herself for being so foolish.
Now I feel flustered and inhibited! After letting him . . .
Emma’s thoughts scattered when Jon loomed suddenly above her, bracing himself on his forearms.
“You enjoyed it,” he said, a note of smug pride in his voice.
“What gave me away?” she quipped, hiding her shyness with humor.
His mouth opened over hers and he kissed her deeply. She smoothed her hands down his broad back, down the valley of his spine then up to the ridge of his tight buttocks. He adjusted his position and laced his fingers with hers, raising her arms above her head.
Then he sank down, covering her body with his. Heart to heart. Following her instincts, Emma lifted her hips and twined her legs around his, opening herself. He responded by pressing against her entrance, slowly, firmly, steadily.
She felt her body stretch to accommodate his length as he claimed her, going deeper and deeper and then a sudden, sharp, stinging pain made her catch her breath.
“You are a virgin no longer.” He stilled. “Do you need more time to adjust?” he asked, his gaze wide and searching.
Emma wiggled her hips, trying to escape the burning fullness. Somehow, he remained still. She could feel the trembling in his shoulders, the rock-hard strength of his body.
“Could you wait?” she inquired, marveling at his control.
He let out a sharp, hollow bark that quickly turned into a groan. She felt his fingers sliding over her breasts, down her stomach and twisting between their bodies. He pressed firmly on her womanhood, sending a tingling, restless feeling racing through her.
“Better?” he whispered.
She licked her lips and felt the now familiar ache tugging low in her belly. “Yes. Oh, yes.”
Jon growled and started rocking back and forth, slowly, gently, each thrust stretching her as he pushed deeper inside. Emma closed her eyes and arched her back, straining toward him. They moved together in a slow, sensual rhythm, her hips rising to meet his thrusts. There was a slight soreness, but the sensations were too wondrous for her to care.
His eyes fluttered closed and she noticed the rhythm become faster and deeper. Her excitement mounted along with his and she felt the beginnings of a second climax, the restless waves seeking completion. They gathered
and pulled at her until they suddenly tore apart.
She cried out in fulfillment. Jon crushed her to his chest and thrust harder, his body jerking into hers. He, too, cried out and his seed flooded her womb, pulsing, warm and alive. She braced herself, expecting him to collapse on top of her when the shuddering ended.
But instead he bestowed a sweet, tender kiss on her lips, then rested his forehead against hers. His breathing was ragged, his body covered in a fine sheen of sweat. Staring into her eyes, he asked calmly, “Are you all right?”
Her throat closed with a sudden burst of emotion. Fearing her voice would crack, Emma nodded.
He shifted off her. She felt his flesh withdraw from her body and experienced a piercing sense of loss. He lay on his back beside her, his arm bent at the elbow covering his eyes.
Emma turned on her side, squirming closer to lie against him. She wrapped her hand around the thick muscle of his upper arm and pressed her face against his shoulder.
“That was—” She sighed, unable to express her emotions in words.
He pulled himself closer and kissed the tip of her nose. “Try to sleep, Emma. ’Tis late,” he commanded.
Sleep? ’Twas impossible. Not after what she had just experienced, what they had just shared.
She opened her mouth to protest just as Jon turned onto his stomach. He curved his arm around the pillow beneath his head and Emma’s lips fell silent as she admired the broad lines of his shoulders and back.
They were perfectly formed, as if carved from marble and polished to a shine. With his eyes closed and his features relaxed he looked young and carefree. There was a faint, self-satisfied smirk upon his face and she felt a stab of pride knowing that she had managed to put it there.
Her husband. The man she was bound to for the rest of her life. And possibly beyond, if scripture was to be taken literally.
Gracious!
Trying not to dwell on the thought that she was a married woman, Emma followed her husband’s dictates and closed her eyes.
Within minutes she was asleep.
Every Bit a Rogue Page 13