Chapter Eight #4
“I cannot help it. I cannot stomach the thought that you might be thinking of him when I am the one touching you like this.” With that he slipped a finger inside her and stroked her deep and slow.
Her scent filled his nostrils and was more intoxicating than any wine he had ever had.
His lips brushed over her, and she bucked.
“Then take heart,” she groaned, “that ye are the one doing the touching, my lord.”
“Aye, my sweet, so I am, but I cannot help where your mind goes.”
She sighed and sat up. Propped up on her elbows, she levelled an impatient gaze at him, putting him in the position of seeming more like a stubborn child than a man lying in bed with his half-nude wife.
Embarrassed more than he could say, he instinctively buried his face in her belly. She stroked his long locks with care.
“Ye cannot know what I am thinking and never will. I can only say that when ye do these things to me, naught is in my head to contend with at all.” She tugged at the bit of hair in her hand. “I shall tell ye, though, that I am in no mood for further interruption.”
He chuckled, pressed his lips against her stomach, and blew a loud, wet noise against her skin.
She laughed outright, a sound he had never heard before in his immediate vicinity, and she tried to roll away.
With a firm grasp on her hips, he held her in place and delivered another and another until she gasped for air and tears slipped out the corners of her eyes.
He brought his face close to hers while she struggled to calm her quick breaths and brushed the wetness away from her eyes with his thumbs.
“That is a beautiful sound, my sweet. I long to hear it more often.” His lips touched hers lightly, lingering there for just a moment. He made an attempt to pull away, but she lifted her head and caught his bottom lip with her teeth, pulling carefully.
“Do not tease me any further, husband. I am growing impatient.” With that, she smashed her lips against his and jerked at his shirttails roughly.
Fabric ripped and his shirt came away in her hands.
He rolled over so she could pull the remains of the tattered cloth from his arms. She hovered over him, her knees pressed firmly against his hips.
Her eyes drank him in, and he marvelled at her sudden need for him. “Yesterday I hated ye,” she whispered.
“And today?”
“Today I hope ye never stop touching me.”
“I think you could hardly escape that fate, my sweet,” he replied, running his thumbs over her hardened nipples.
She fumbled with the fastenings of his breeches, managing to get them open and free him. Her hand brushed over him as she examined the curious bit of his anatomy. It was warm and pulsing beneath her fingers and when he moaned, she grinned wickedly.
“Elizabeth,” he cried.
* * *
She lifted her head, her eyes burning with passion and need. Boldly, she imitated his behaviour from the previous evening and pulled her tongue along the rippled, veined flesh of his organ. His body jerked even as his eye grew wide in disbelief.
“How odd,” she remarked, breathing slowly against his tip. “I was not aware I could produce such reactions. I rather enjoy it.”
“Elizabeth!” He moaned again. “I am pleading with you.”
She nodded, and he wrenched her breeches away then grabbed her hips and pulled her onto him.
The sensation was different than it had been before.
It was like she was able to feel more of him and not just deeper, but all around.
He filled her, surrounded her, crashed over her like waves in the sea and then she was still.
Slowly, silently, she rocked against him, his hands firm against the flesh of her hips.
The friction between their bodies increased, driving each of them to the very edge of consciousness.
Finally, Elizabeth's mind flashed, and her body flared and she collapsed against his chest as her insides became full of him.
He stroked her hair, pushing sweat-dampened locks away from her lovely face. His lips pressed against her cheeks and forehead again and again.
“My lord, Elizabeth, that was unbelievable.”
“Ye enjoyed it then? I am so glad I could be of service.”
“You maintain this brazen behaviour, and I am most likely to give up all my duties just to keep you in bed.”
“But, sir, whatever would that accomplish?”
He smiled, placing a soft kiss upon her mouth.
“I think it might accomplish a great deal. It would preserve that delightful swelling of your lips after you have been kissed for hours. You would keep my mind and body more agreeably engaged than most of the goings-on at court. And, perhaps, the most important reason of them all; you would never again be in clothes.”
“Ye hardly treated my attire as an impediment, my lord.”
“Well, in some instances, my sweet, clothing is a useful tool of seduction, but most of the time, it is an irritating barrier to the much longed-for prize.”
“And I would be that much longed-for prize?”
“The one I have looked for my whole life.”
He kissed the tip of her nose and wrapped his arms around her. They fell asleep and clung to each other all through the night.