20. One Couple, One Night #2
She was unaware of how he had already pulled away and was suddenly over the top of her, his manhood replacing his tongue as her body continued to spasm.
Sure he was too large, she sucked in a breath as he entered a few inches and then retreated, as if he, too, knew he couldn’t possibly fit inside her. Then he entered her again, this time more slowly.
“Breathe, my love,” he whispered, his lips leaving a trail of kisses along her jaw.
Catherine did his bidding as she resisted the urge to hiss.
Although she didn’t feel pain, she did experience a moment of feeling his fullness, of feeling as if she would burst. When he moved again, though, she relaxed.
When he entered her yet again, this time she knew he had pushed his manhood in as far as it would go.
The sensation of his ball sac pressing against her quim had her inhaling sharply, and not from pain.
He must have noticed, for he dipped his head until their foreheads were touching and said, “I am in heaven.” Whilst kissing her on the lips, he began the rhythmic motions of an ancient dance, one that Catherine was soon able to match, her hips lifting to meet his thrusts, her thighs lifting to cradle his hips.
Matthew’s growl filled the bedchamber, the sound the only warning Catherine had of his impending release. She watched in wonder as he suddenly stopped moving and threw his head back, his breaths loud in the night.
“You are heaven,” he whispered, lowering his body to hers before he rolled off of her. He landed on his back, his eyes closed.
Catherine stared at him, a combination of concern, disappointment, and the sudden loss of his heated body causing her to turn and lift herself onto an elbow. “Are you well?” Despite the chill, a sheen of perspiration covered his body.
Raising a bent arm and dropping it above his head, he chuckled. “Very well.” He turned his gaze on her. “Oh, dear. Were you…? Did I hurt you?” he asked, raising himself onto an elbow.
She shook her head. “No. It didn’t hurt,” she claimed. “However, I think I should…” She glanced around the room.
“Wash,” he guessed. “Yes.” He rolled off the other side of the bed. “Stay there.”
Watching as he disappeared into the dressing room, Catherine worried she had left a stain on his bed linens. When he emerged, he was wearing a light dressing robe and carrying a much heavier one.
“Let’s put this on you. It’s a bit cold in here,” he said.
She stepped off the bed and winced. “I’m so sorry. I think I…”
“It’s all right,” he said, wrapping the robe around her shoulders. “There’s hot water in the bathing chamber,” he said. He grabbed the lantern and indicated she should follow him.
Surprised, Catherine wondered what he meant by hot water until she stepped into the chamber and saw a candle flame beneath a large jug sitting atop a metal frame. A spigot hung over a sink, and on a counter on the other side of the sink was a pitcher and ewer.
“Hot, cold,” he said, pointing out the two sources for water. He handed her a bath linen before helping himself to another. “Do be careful, though, for sometimes this is too warm,” he warned.
He turned the spigot to wet his linen, testing it. “You should be fine.”
Catherine watched as he used the linen to clean his manhood. Not wanting to get caught staring, she quickly turned around and helped herself to the warm water. Before she could begin her own ministrations, he pressed his chest to her back and placed a kiss on the side of her head.
“I’m going to warm the bed,” he whispered.
A shiver passed through her, and she knew it wasn’t due to the chill in the air. “I’ll be there in a moment,” she replied.
She waited until he was gone before she began cleaning her thighs, wincing when the linen touched her tender quim. After a moment, the warm sponge bath had her restored to rights, and she sighed with appreciation before she returned to the bedchamber.
Although the lantern had been extinguished, more coal had been added to the fireplace, the flames casting the room in a golden glow.
“Are you all right?” Matthew was sitting up in the bed, his lower half covered with the blankets.
Catherine experienced an odd sensation at seeing him, the frisson reminiscent of the one he had caused with his earlier foreplay, and she gasped softly. “I am now,” she murmured, shedding the robe and joining him in the bed.
“May I hold you? Whilst we sleep?”
She nodded, marveling at how natural it felt to have the front of his body pressed against her back, his knees bent and tucked into the back of hers.
She was sure she could feel his pulse slow along with his breathing, and when she thought he had fallen asleep, she closed her eyes and sighed softly.
He lifted himself onto an elbow, leaned over, and kissed her cheek. “Good night, my love,” he whispered. “My future Mrs. Higby.”
Grinning, Catherine said, “Good night, dear.”
Saying such an endearment reminded her that not so long ago, she had never expected to say it to a man.
Marriage had been out of the question for her.
A roadblock to the plans she had for her future.
In only a short time, Matthew Higby had managed to convince her not only of his regard for her, but that he would help in seeing to it her dream was realized.
Had she agreed to marry him too easily? Perhaps.
Could she believe all his promises?
The question lingered as she felt him settle back onto the mattress. When he wrapped an arm around her waist, a slight frisson reminded her that without him, she might never have had the experience of this evening. The experience of shared pleasure. Of intimacy.
Even if she changed her mind—or he did—she would have the memory of this night.
She relaxed into his hold and covered his hand with her own. A moment later, and she was sound asleep.