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He shuddered, and not just from the exquisite sensation of her lips, or the sweet sound of her saying his name—something he did not think he could ever get enough of—but also from the truth that shined deep in his chest in that moment: he did trust her. More than he had ever wanted to trust anyone ever again.
He let loose a ragged breath and nodded, loosening her fingers. All too soon she undid the fastenings, releasing his member to the cool night air, and was pushing his breeches down over his hips and off his legs.
He lay there in shock, waiting for the panic to set in. He did not have time, however, for after a faint rustling she was back with him, stretching over him. And his shock was compounded as her silky skin, warm and utterly bare, dragged against his own.
Heaven. Ah, God, it was utter heaven. He groaned at the sensation, and it mingled with her faint gasp until he could not tell where one sound ended and the other began. How was this exquisite torture even possible? How did people ever leave their beds? But he also knew they were far from done. And he was suddenly eager to experience everything.
Just then her hand found his straining member, and he nearly bucked right off the bed. Not that they would have time tonight to experience everything. He would be lucky if he didn’t spend himself in her hand right in that very moment.
“No,” he gasped, pulling her hand from him though all he wanted was to pump himself into her fingers and into oblivion. “Too close.”
She chuckled, a low, throaty sound he felt clear to his toes. After a moment’s shock he found a smile lifting his lips. Was this part of it, then, this wonderful camaraderie that enhanced pure physicality?
Feeling suddenly and inexplicably playful, he nipped her shoulder gently with his teeth. “Minx,” he growled. “You would laugh at my lack of control?”
Which only made her laugh harder. There was something incredibly joyous in the sound, as if she’d been freed from captivity and had seen the sun for the first time.
Which was a feeling he could relate to. What else was she to him but the sun, lighting everything that had, up until then, been dreary and dark and hopeless?
Grinning, he said in as menacing a voice as he was able, “You wound my manhood, madam.”
Once again her hand found him, brushing with the lightest touch against the hard length of him. “I have only the deepest respect for your manhood.”
His breath stalled in his chest as he was caught between delight at her teasing and a raging need for her. But the latter quickly took precedence until it was all he was. Gripping her hips, ignoring the pain in his thigh, he rolled her beneath him.
Her laughter died as quickly as it had started. “Daniel,” she moaned, her fingers diving into his hair. Trembling, he trailed kisses over her cheek, down the long length of her neck, across her chest, just as she had done to him. But there was nothing to hinder his progress. Lower and lower he went, the taste of her skin filling him, the sugared violet scent of her driving him mad with need. When he reached the softness of her breasts he thought he would lose his mind entirely. And then his questing lips found her nipple, and he drew her deep into his mouth.
She cried out, arching up for more. The very idea that he could bring her pleasure sent him completely over the edge. He filled his palms with her breasts, plumping them in his hand even as his mouth devoured her. He could have kissed her there forever, so glorious was the feel of her, soft and supple and gloriously delicious, under his lips.
Until Margery took hold of one of his hands and pulled it away from her breast. He did not have time to worry that she wished him to stop, however, for he quickly realized where she was guiding his hand: down, over the fullness of her stomach, her hips, to the downy mound of hair covering that most sacred place.
He had heard of women becoming wet from loving. But he had never dreamed of the glorious heat and slickness he found at the center of her. He rubbed a finger against her folds, transfixed. To his shock a low cry escaped her. And then she was pressing up into his hand.
“Daniel, now,” she begged, tugging on his shoulders.
He went willingly. With an ancient instinct he settled between her trembling thighs. And then her legs wrapped about his hips and she guided him within her.
“Margery,” he groaned against her shoulder as her heat enveloped him. She was tight, so gloriously tight around him, and he could not imagine there could be anything better than this. He took a long moment just to feel her, to make certain he never forgot this moment and how she felt wrapped around him. Then he began to move.
How wrong he had been.
***
Fullness, such glorious fullness and stretching, with Daniel deep inside her. Margery’s breath left her on a long exhale. How she had missed this, the connection to another through lovemaking, the physical intimacy of such an act. But as wonderful as it felt, having him inside her, having his strong body pressing into her with a welcome weight, she wanted more. So much more.
But would he know what to do? Did the fact that he was a virgin—or rather, had been, for he certainly wasn’t one now—also mean that he would not know how to proceed? A silly thought, perhaps. There was such a thing as instinct, after all.
The longer he lay still, however, his arms trembling on each side of her as he held himself above her, his breath ragged against her neck, the more doubt crept in. But perhaps it wasn’t his lack of knowledge that had him pausing. Mayhap it was his injury. Was he in pain? Should she say something? Or would it shatter the moment?
Before she could decide how to proceed, however, he began to move. And all coherent thought vanished.
Her low moan as he slowly pulled out, only to push back within her with the same exquisite slowness, was echoed by his own deep groan. “My God.” He repeated the action, his voice hitching on a breath, “Margery. You feel—you’re—”
“Yes,” she whispered against his temple, her hands diving into his hair. She pressed her heels into the soft mattress, angling her hips to take him more deeply within her, and he shuddered.
“Heaven,” he managed, his lips brushing against her shoulder with that one word, his hot breath bathing her skin.
And it was heaven, in every way. His body was pure bliss in her arms, the feel of his member, large and throbbing within her, quickly bringing her aching body to heights that her hands and fingers had only hinted at over the years. His movements became frantic, each pump of his hips bringing them both closer to the precipice. She soared, higher, faster. Until, with all the force of a wave in a storm-raged sea, the pleasure crashed over her head, drowning her in exquisite completion.
