Chapter 23 #2
There, he caught her around the waist and pressed her down into the soft blankets and feather mattress.
Her gaze flitted down to the intimidating protrusion at the peak of his thighs, as he maneuvered between hers.
She still did not know how such a thing would fit within her, but she supposed she would soon find out.
“Will it hurt?” she asked, somewhat nervous.
He bent down to kiss her, letting her settle into the comfort of his mouth.
All the while, however, she was aware of his hardened length, straining against her sex.
Was this coupling? She did not know, but she liked the way it felt, as his manhood slid back and forth along the sodden furrows of her heat.
Whenever it slicked against the root of her pleasure—that small, intense place that she had never known about—an explosion of pulsing sparks erupted in her stomach, scattering out across her abdomen and chest. Like embers from an unchecked fire, the vibrations burned in her lungs, in the best possible way, stealing every full breath she tried to take.
“Owen… My goodness, Owen—” She writhed against the swell of his manhood, raising up her hips to feel the delicious glide of him all over again. Indeed, she could not get enough.
He stilled for a moment: the thickness of him resting at the entrance of her silken well, just as his fingers had done before. Only, they were narrow and insignificant in comparison to the pressure of his manhood, pausing there in wait.
“It might hurt,” he told her, “but it willnae hurt for long, if there’s pleasure enough to relax ye.”
She nodded. “I think there is plenty of that.”
“If it’s too much, ye can tell me to stop,” he urged: his eyes bright with desire.
She would not have dared to push him away, in case it took that gleam out of his gaze, for it was a shine she hoped to see every day for the rest of her life.
A look that said, “You are wanted. You are loved. You are cherished. You are my gift.”
Looking lovingly into her eyes, Owen pushed his hips forward, inching through the gateway of her pleasure realm.
The shock gripped Heather first, for she had never felt anything like it.
His fingers had given her a taste, but they could never have prepared her for the sensation of him sinking into her, filling an absence that she had not realized was there, inside her.
Then came the pain he had warned her about, though it was not nearly as bad as she had anticipated. A stinging sensation prickled for a moment, neither pleasant nor unbearable. It was just something to be overcome, so she could welcome the pleasure that he had promised.
“Are ye well?” he croaked: his voice thick.
She braced her hands against his shoulders. “I am, my love.”
A minute later, after he had stilled within her to let her grow accustomed to the feeling, she found that she meant it. The sting faded to nothing, and all she knew was the exquisite wholeness of him. To reassure him, she pulled his head down and kissed him hard, eager for what was to come.
Relaxing against her, and kissing her back with a renewed fervor, Owen slowly drew his hips backward. The slick friction ignited a fresh burst of showering sparks that charged through her body, making her feel invincible.
A moment later, he plunged inside her again, teaching her the rhythm of his desire.
A swift study, she lifted her hips to meet him as he withdrew and pushed into her depths again.
The motion and the fullness of his length drew a cry from her mouth, which she stifled against his lips, hungry for more of what he could teach her.
“Tell me what feels good to ye,” he encouraged, rolling his hips against her secret bud with every measured stroke.
“That,” Heather panted. “Keep doing that.”
He smiled and kissed along the curve of her neck, obeying her command.
Though, there was more to his talent than she anticipated, as he propped himself on one hand and slid his other across her stomach and down between her thighs.
He found her secret pearl once more, and let his fingertips strum that center of bliss.
“Oh goodness—” Dizzy with ecstasy, she had no other words. Why had no one ever told her that lying with a beloved man was so transformative? As far as she was concerned, it could not have been anything but actual magic or a gift from the divine.
Emboldened by the thrilling rhythm of his body, Heather smoothed her palms down over his back, feeling every rippling muscle beneath her touch.
She mapped the curve of his spine and smiled as she came to the rise of his firm backside.
Gripping that tight muscle, she urged him onward, pushing him deeper and harder until she was writhing upon the bed, utterly overcome with bliss.
Nevertheless, he did not rush. In the sound of his groans and gasps, she could feel he was holding back, concentrating upon her pleasure first. Evidently, he did not know what those glorious sounds did to her, for they were as powerful in creating her pleasure as his touch.
“Yes, my love! Mmm… yes,” she gasped, as a now-familiar sensation gathered in the core of her stomach. Every thrust and strum stacked the feeling higher, until she felt as though she were soaring toward the sun.
Sensing the change in her, as her bliss peaked and peaked, Owen began to move more quickly. His hips rocked back and forth with a new kind of abandon, though his fingertips never ceased in their measured strumming.
As the delicious friction hit the mountain of her pleasure, she felt herself cresting the ridge of it. From there, she would feel that exquisite dive into ecstasy—a freedom like no other.
Half a minute later, his measured thrusts and diligent attentions tipped her over the edge into the most powerful conclusion of her life, thus far.
Every muscle clenched tight as she plummeted, her breath halting in her lungs, her fingernails digging into Owen’s back, her mouth open in an “O” of anticipation.
Then, she soared. The flight of bliss swept through her like a storm, pummeling through her veins and turning her limbs limp in its wake. For a moment, she worried that the force of it might tear her apart, for how could a mortal body contain so much divine bliss? Surely, it was not possible.
Yet, she swiftly discovered that it was, as the intensity subsided into a series of fluttering pulses that twirled and tingled throughout her.
Her body relaxed into the mattress, where she became a panting, flushed creature of delirious joy.
Indeed, she was now fearful that she would never emerge from her chamber again, for what was there out in the world that could surpass this?
“Och, love… me love—” Owen moved his hips faster, groaning as Heather spurred him on, raising her hips to meet him.
She held onto him as he came toward his own conclusion, finally allowing himself to plunge into her with everything he possessed.
It thrilled her, for if she had known he could move so swiftly within her, she would have encouraged him sooner.
Every thrust ignited a smaller version of her grand conclusion, until she was crying out his name again.
“Och… och, me love.” He caught her mouth with his, groaning as he stilled within her. Her muscles tightened and she felt the pulse of him, that inspired an echo of pulses up into her abdomen.
He plundered her depths twice more, before he collapsed against her and rolled them both onto their sides: his arms wrapping tight around her as he panted against her cheek. His skin was hot and full of life, and she was glad he had not withdrawn, for she liked the way he felt.
“I love ye,” he murmured, kissing her neck lazily.
She hugged him tighter. “As I love you.”
“I cannae wait to have ye as me wife. Although, ye should ken, in me head, ye already are.” He smiled at her, as his breathing slowed back to normal.
She beamed with glee. “I cannot wait to be your wife, though I daresay I have already shown you that I consider you my husband.”
“Nevertheless, we’ll make it legitimate. A week from now, maybe?”
She nodded. “That sounds delightful.”
After all, there was one hurdle she needed to overcome first. It was not something she wanted to think about until she had slept in Owen’s arms, but it would have to be implemented the moment she awoke. A letter, sent to her father, to explain everything.
It would not alter her decision, but she hoped it might make amends. If her father could not agree, then he would simply have to come to terms with the fact that he had lost both his son and daughter. She prayed it would not come to that but, when all was said and done, she had made her choice.