Part 17 (2/2)
He scarcely felt the pain in his ribs.
Resting his head on her thigh, he blew softly into that sensitive junction where he wished to be.
”What are you doing?” she asked sharply. But she didn't lift the sheet.
”I'm waiting for you to relax your legs. I can't do what you request without your cooperation, as you no doubt comprehend.”
She did comprehend, but her cool mind did not have total sway over the impulses of her body. No matter how much she wished it otherwise, she was still an untutored virgin with her first man, and she couldn't command her knees to part.
He felt the quiver as she tried, and said, ”Let me help.” He inserted his thumb in the s.p.a.ce between her thighs and nudged up until he touched the place he knew she would like. ”There.” He rubbed her. ”More relaxed now?”
She tensed so much he feared she would splinter. It was going to be tougher than he'd first realized. Lifting his head, he pressed his hand to her diaphragm. ”Breathe,” he instructed.
She inhaled with a deep gasp that told him she'd been holding her breath. When she'd absorbed enough air, she demanded, ”What are you doing?”
”Pleasuring you.” He rubbed her again. ”Is it working?”
”I know not. I only know it makes me want to...”
She moved her legs restlessly, and he consolidated his position with his knee. ”To do what?”
”To jump up and run or fly or...I can't think when you're doing that.”
”Good.” His free hand rode the s.h.i.+ft up from her calf to her hip. He kissed a mole which appeared to the right of her pelvis, then kissed it again because he enjoyed it.
The movement of his lips on her skin brought her to a half-sitting position. ”I wish you'd get out from under that sheet!” she said in her most annoyed tone, but her voice trembled.
”Why?” He poked his head free of the cover and grinned at her indignant, too-flushed face. ”It's where I've dreamed of being since the day I met you. Lift your hips.”
She opened her lips to argue, then shut them and did as he ordered. Free of her weight, the s.h.i.+ft billowed up around her waist, leaving her bare below, and she s.n.a.t.c.hed at the edge of the sheet again.
”Beautiful.” Ducking his head, he tried to submerge again.
She caught his hair. ”This is not what I'd planned.”
”If you'll lie back on the pillows and kiss me, I'll do whatever you tell me,” he promised.
”Do you so vow?”
”Whatever you tell me,” he repeated.
He could see her examining his statement, trying to see a trick, but she couldn't conceive of herself so far gone with pa.s.sion that she couldn't speak or even think, and so she slid back on the pillows and crossed her hands over her bosom. With a crooked smile, he took her hands and placed them on his shoulders. ”It just makes it seem as if we're doing this together.”
She didn't comprehend the jest, and when she tried to ask for an explanation, he kissed her.
Kissing she comprehended. Kissing they'd done before, and from her response, she enjoyed the touch of the lips, the slow penetration to the mouth, the first taste.... He groaned when she thrust her tongue into his mouth, and he wanted very badly to lever himself over the top of her. But first...his hand tangled in the laces of her s.h.i.+ft. They had enticed him long enough, and he slipped the knot free and spread it with his hand. He didn't like this s.h.i.+ft. He didn't know why he'd told her he did. It was too long, too revealing, and horribly in the way. He wanted it off, and when he placed his palm in the middle of her chest, the thud of her heart encouraged him. She tore her lips free when he cupped her, but he chased and captured them again. She didn't fight, but caught fire easily, and he began to hope.
Familiarity warmed her, obviously, and whatever he did, he had to do twice. Once to show her, once to incite her. Inching closer, he stroked the s.h.i.+ft all the way open. Her shoulder slipped free, then her arm, then her hand. Lifting her with his arm around her shoulders, he removed the linen and flung it away.
She struggled to semi-awareness. ”David.”
But he didn't want to hear her behest, so he touched her as he'd touched her when he'd been beneath the covers. She bucked and moaned, her head falling back on the pillow, her red hair spread across it like writhing flames.
He was right. He was right. All he had to do was accustom her to each movement, and she followed his lead. He could do that. He could do everything twice.
Everything except...well, by then he'd have her so far gone with pa.s.sion she wouldn't notice. a.s.suredly, she was a virgin, but men exchanged stories on the night before battle, and he'd heard that a virgin of advanced age softened. He'd been told muscles relaxed and barriers broke with activity.
With his finger, he entered her, testing the truth of it. She seemed tight, and he frowned. Then she shuddered, and he saw her face. She struggled to regain control so she could evaluate this initial contact. Quickly he withdrew and caressed her as he'd done before, and he vanquished her restraint. Her hands grasped his shoulders and her close-cut nails sank into his flesh. She began the rhythmic motions that invited him inside, and he praised her with a kiss so intimate, it brought tears to his eyes.
His body hummed with triumph, with gratification, with pure carnal energy. She was his. He knew how to manipulate her now. She was his, and he wanted inside her so badly...of their own accord, his fingers sank deep within her.
He watched, but while her eyes opened, she didn't focus. All of her attention centered on her own body, on her own reactions.
A selfish loving, this first time, but he never doubted she'd return the favor another time, and what he felt now could scarcely be repeated.
Was she ready? He was. He was so ready he feared to trust the damp evidence on his hand. But the men around the campfire had said something else, something he'd not understood at the time. The difference between an old virgin and a young virgin, they said, was that an old virgin followed with caution while a young virgin leaped after new adventures.
That he had confirmed. Now he could only hope their other wisdom proved as true.
Rising up and over her, he spread her legs and rocked against her.
This time she focused, saw him, and she stilled as she adjusted to the dominance of his position. He rested on his elbows, holding his weight back, not wanting to frighten her, and he remained still while she thought about how it felt and what would happen.
Then he rocked against her again, and again, and her already sensitive flesh began to respond. He moved into position slowly, holding himself in suspense as each moment he waited and feared to hear her logical voice instructing him. But although she remained silent, not giving vent to her pleasure, her body reacted to each of his thrusts with first timid, then sure thrusts of her own.
”That's it.” He crooned in her ear. ”When I'm inside you, do just that.”
He shouldn't have said anything, he guessed. He wanted nothing to distract her now, but he was too close and it was going to be so good, and so easy...
He entered her, but she fit him almost too tightly, if such a thing were possible. He trembled as he held himself in check, moving slowly, slowly. Then he found her maidenhead, and it in no way responded to his gentle movements.
The men had said older virgins were easy. But the men didn't know Alisoun. Alisoun was now and would always be contrary.
With an effort, he held himself still. Reluctantly, he opened his eyes and looked down into her face.
Pa.s.sion no longer held her in its grip. She laid beneath him, perfectly composed, waiting for more pain.
”Alisoun...” He groaned.
”Don't worry. You haven't hurt me badly, and I was prepared for this.” Her hands slid off his shoulders. She folded them across her bosom and closed her eyes. ”Go ahead and finish.”
He wanted to scream, to pound his fists on the pillow, to kick like a three-year-old throwing a tantrum. But he didn't want to frighten her, and the second time...he moved forcefully, and she cried out in one uncensored feeling...the second time she would be accustomed, and she'd be everything he ever dreamed.
12.
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