Epilogue #2
In the carriage, they did not waste any time. They kissed more deeply, keeping their moans to a minimum, lest they scandalize the coachman. Tristan’s hands were all over Cathy: her face, her neck, and her breasts. They moved with fevered and possessive passion.
By the time the carriage stopped at Baxter Hall’s front steps, husband and wife were disheveled.
They tried to catch their breath before descending the carriage, but there was nothing to be done about their appearance.
The footmen remained as stoic and expressionless as possible, but Cathy caught their wide eyes before they were able to revert to their polite indifference.
Tristan did not care one bit. He practically dragged her up the grand staircase, with the two moving not like a noble couple but like a couple of unruly children.
Once in his bedchamber, he kicked the door shut. Cathy burst out laughing again, thinking about how loud it was and how the staff must have been shaken by such a display.
It was afternoon, and they had not eaten their midday meal.
But they were hungry for something else.
Tristan was already unbuttoning his waistcoat as fast as he could.
There were no more courtly gestures here.
Every move was urgent. His eyes raked her body as if she were already naked.
Then, he reached for her and began to unfasten her dress, as well.
“No ledgers tonight. No calculations,” he commanded, primal need thickening his voice. The order did not stop him from pulling the silk and lace off her body.
“No more,” she echoed, as she helped him take the rest of her dress off until she was left in her chemise.
Cathy trembled. It could have been the autumn breeze or the fact that she was stripping him of his clothes this time.
He stripped the rest of his clothes, and again she was left in awe.
Cathy had always been aware of how muscular and toned Tristan was.
He liked working with his hands. He did not like the idea of leaving all the work to his servants.
But this time, she also had a much clearer glimpse of his erect cock.
It stood proud and hard. All this began that morning she woke up with her hand around his cock.
Therefore, she knew how big he was. But now, her eyes could confirm it.
Her mouth opened, and she hoped it was not watering.
“I... I know I asked for us to consummate our marriage, but I do not truly know how...”
“How what, darling?” he asked, edging even closer to her until she could feel him against her belly through the fabric of her chemise.
“How can that fit into me? It will hurt, will it not?” she squeaked.
“Only for the first time, Cathy,” he said gently, his face softening. “We will take it slowly.”
“And for you? How will it feel being squeezed tight?” she breathed, thinking of how he would fit into a virgin like her.
He groaned at her words.
“It will be pleasurable. More than you can imagine,” he assured her, his voice taking a husky tone.
He moved against her, letting her move backward until her legs were against the foot of the bed. Then, he gently laid her on the bed, where her eyes immediately closed. The bed faintly smelled of him, and the mattress felt wonderful against her weary back.
Tristan followed her, hovering over her body. He parted her thighs to make space for him, while his hands rolled up her chemise until she was naked from the waist down. Her thighs instinctively clamped together.
“No, Cathy. Spread those open for me,” Tristan said softly.
She thought that he would just put himself inside of her, but he did not. Instead, he pressed his lips against hers. She started relaxing into the kiss. It was hungry and exploring, opening her mouth to his. He sucked her tongue, and she moaned.
His hands were everywhere. To her shock, he ripped the front of her chemise open, revealing her breasts. Her nipples were ready to salute him, hard and pebbled and eager to be sucked.
“So beautiful,” he murmured, licking his lower lip.
Then, he lowered the sleeves gently as if he were not the same man who just tore the garment to pieces a mere second ago.
He peppered kisses on her healing scars, and she whimpered not because of pain, but because the sight and feel of him doing it reverently tugged at her heart.
He kissed them slowly, setting her on fire but also healing her.
Healing her of memories associated with Anne and everyone else who had treated her badly.
“You are mine, Cathy,” he whispered, his voice urging goosebumps from her body. “Do you understand that? You are mine forever, and I will never let anyone hurt you again.”
“You are mine, too, Tristan,” she replied.
He licked a trail from her neck to the valley of her breasts, where she inhaled his scent before pulling a nipple deep into his mouth to suck while he kneaded the other.
She liked how he pulled at her breast with his hot mouth as it made the desire coil tighter in her belly.
He switched to the other one, giving it the same amount of attention.
He laved, licked, and nibbled until her breath came in gasps and her hips started a rhythm as old as time.
He reached between her legs, slipping a finger in and stretching her slowly.
She bit her lip to keep herself from crying out when he thrust the finger in and out while rubbing her clit.
The pleasure kept on building, but there was still something missing.
It was like being at the peak, yet unable to soar.
Finally, he murmured, “You are ready, Cathy.”
She felt a keen sense of disappointment when he slid his finger out.
But then she realized his intention when he gripped her hips and rubbed the tip of his cock against her slit until he slowly entered.
He did it slowly, almost laboriously, inch by inch.
She felt a slight sting of pain as he became fully seated in her.
“Breathe, Cathy,” he murmured, as he kept still.
A drop of sweat fell from his forehead to hers.
She knew that he was waiting for a cue from her.
So, she breathed. At first, it hurt. Then, the hurt changed into a mere feeling of fullness, until there was just pure pleasure.
Everything else was forgotten, then. All that remained was the rhythmic force of their shared need.
It was a language they both understood. It spoke not only of love and lust, but also of apologies and promises.
Cathy explored Tristan’s body just as much as he did hers, clutching his buttocks to urge him further. Miss Priggish had long left the room. She squeezed her eyes shut to remember every bit of him, his skin on hers, and the way he moved inside of her.
She was unraveling. She felt her brain go blank as her body took over.
Pleasure crested, and she rode it with him.
They had found their bodies in seamless synchronization.
Her fingernails dug into his back as she clung to him.
She could not imagine being a separate entity from him again.
Then, it came. He had drawn her pleasure to the brink and let it crash before, but this time, it was more.
She opened her eyes wide, meeting his heavy-lidded gaze as he thrust in and out some more to urge that feeling out.
Her whole body shuddered, squeezing him tightly until, not long after, his body shuddered to his own release.
“I love you so much, Cathy.”
“I love you too.”
Later, they remained in bed, in angled sheets, as the sunlight faded outside. The oranges and reds of emerging twilight cast magical colors upon them. Cathy’s head rested on Tristan’s chest, her fingers trailing a path on his sculpted abdomen.
“Be careful with that hand,” he warned. “You might be tempting me to take you one more time. As I remember, you have a remarkably firm grip.”
“I am not sure I should take this as a compliment,” she teased.
He caressed her hair in response.
“You should. Have I changed your mind, then?”
“About what?”
“About possessing a firm character to match your grip?”
Those words made Cathy laugh out loud. “Yes, I believe we make an excellent pair, especially when it comes to ledgers.”
Tristan laughed at that, his chest heaving underneath her. The rich sound filled the room, and she could not wish for anything more.
“Oh, I would spend a lifetime checking the figures on your ledger, Cathy,” he promised with a growl.
Then, he rolled her over so that he had her pinned on the bed.
The End?