Chapter Eight #2
He smoothed her hair away, and then he tilted his head just so and kissed her.
Her arms came around his neck and he deepened the kiss.
Gently urging, but in no hurry to make her open her mouth.
She’d get there. He led her with movements, tilting his head right then left, then he parted his lips and licked her bottom lip.
Her hips curled into his and Tristan prayed the tied sash would do him the favor of disguising his hardened cock.
She moaned, bowing into him, swiveling her head and exploring his mouth before she made the move he’d been waiting for.
She opened her mouth, just a little. Tristan licked the soft skin just inside her lip and she opened further, curious, he’d guess, about where this went.
He opened his mouth and waited, inviting her in.
He slowed his breathing, unhurried, but anxious for her to do it. To feel the probing wet velvet and finally taste her.
She dipped her tongue into his mouth, and Tristan gave her an encouraging squeeze, running his hand down her spine but going no lower than the middle of her back.
She tried again, slower, touching the tip of her tongue to his and it took every ounce of will in him to not ravage her mouth.
She grew bolder, and Tristan moaned into the kiss, breaking to catch his breath and give her a chance to process.
“You taste divine, Flick.”
“Show me what to do.”
He sealed his mouth to hers, sliding his tongue against hers, showing her how they could thrust and tease, until they were both breathing frantically, and now, he had both arms around her, crushing her to him.
He broke away again, sucking in a breath and trying to clear the fog of lust from his head.
He’d been celibate for too long. Every touch was magic.
His cock pressed demandingly and painfully against the seam of the placket on his trousers.
Her hands were in his hair, and he had trouble remembering what he was supposed to be doing other than kissing Flick witless.
“We have to stop.”
She sighed. “Why?”
“Because kissing you is too damn good.” He couldn’t say he was losing control. That might scare her. But he could feel his damn pulse in his cock. He had to get a hold of himself.
She touched her forehead to his shoulder and Tristan closed his eyes, using deep breaths to calm the storm inside him. His ardor cooled, and he could take a step back.
She gasped.
Tristan looked down. His trousers were obscenely tented.
“Is that what happens to men when they are aroused?”
He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Unfortunately.”
“Why is it unfortunate?” She was still staring at him, and it only made him harder.
“Because it is difficult to hide.”
At last, she looked up at him and she blushed. “This is because we were kissing?”
He nodded. Was this becoming another lesson? He might die if she asked to touch him.
“I’m glad I don’t have an appendage like that. Seems bothersome and in the way.”
Tristan swallowed a laugh and cleared his throat. “Well, yes. But it does have its perks.”
Wariness bloomed in her eyes. “What sort of perks, might that be?”
“It brings me and women pleasure.”
She stepped back further. “I don’t see how being stabbed with a man’s appendage can be pleasurable.”
Bollocks, that took a turn, but perhaps this conversation needed to be had.
Tristan stepped back and sat on the edge of her bed. Now she stood over him, a position of power.
“What do you know about the act of lovemaking?”
“The act of procreation? I understand the basics. Though I don’t think love is involved. That’s just poetic drivel.”
Tristan raised a brow at that. “Well, poetic drivel aside, a male’s cock is designed to fit inside a woman. In the heights of pleasure, a man releases his seed and that takes root in the woman’s womb and a baby grows.”
“I’ve attended a birth. My mother is our village midwife.”
“That’s good.”
“Is it? There was lots of screaming and blood.”
“I’ve never witnessed birth other than in farm animals so I couldn’t tell you if that is normal.”
“Not all women scream. I know that. When you say that organ can bring pleasure I don’t understand how.”
“What happened to you was not what consensual relations are. You were attacked. Harmed. It won’t be like that with a future husband.”
“How? Won’t it involve the same motions?”
“Yes and no. Where there is attraction and desire, like what we share, our bodies respond to it. Mine like this,” he gestured toward his groin.
Thankfully his ardor had cooled. There was nothing romantic or sensual about this conversation, but it was necessary.
“Yours is different.” He ran a hand through his hair.
“I’m certain Dr. Sloan would have a better way of discussing this in a more straightforward manner. ”
She moved to sit beside him. “I’m sorry.”
“Do not apologize. You’ve done nothing wrong. It is I who am lacking in this specific area of education. I can show you, but explaining it is beyond me, unless I use poetic drivel.” He shrugged.
“All right. Start with the drivel.” She waved for him to continue.
Tristan laughed. “Very well, here I go. A woman’s pleasure is like . . . Bollocks, I’m not poet, either. I didn’t plan for this.”
She smiled. “I won’t judge too harshly.”
Tristan sighed, searching his brain for a good analogy for a woman in a state of arousal. He knew how to make a woman come with expertise, but how to describe it?
“When a woman is feeling passionate and wants to engage in intercourse, her nether—”
She frowned.
“Not nether, then.”
“Vulva? Vagina?” she offered. “Those are the scientific terms.”
“But those terms don’t illicit desire now do they? No. This isn’t a lecture, so I’ll stick to poetic drivel since it does have a reputation for its uses in seducing women.”
She scoffed and he chuckled.
“Imagine the lips between your thighs are petals of a flower. When you want me to touch you, taste you, that flower will bloom, opening for me, the soft petals slicken with your own arousal and that makes that act of my body joining with yours not painful, but smooth and sweet like warm honey. My cock fills you and strokes to life the deep pleasure center inside you.”
She shifted, her cheeks once again pink and his cock swelling as he realized he’d made his analogy specifically about them.
“Then show me,” she said.
Much to his surprise.
His cock agreed, but Tristan had just enough sense to think clearly. “No. Not tonight. Not the first night that we embark on this journey. I said we’d go slow, and I mean it.”
She twisted toward him. “You said I was in control.”
“Trust me, Flick. You’re not ready. If I removed my clothing, then removed yours, you’d be fine?”
She straightened and tucked her hands in her lap. “I see.”
“But I can leave you with some instructions for the rest of the night. When you go to bed and blow out your candle, I want you to think about me and touch yourself.”
She covered her face with her hands. “You don’t mean that. Please tell me you’re teasing.”
“I am serious. You must find pleasure on your own.”
“I wouldn’t know how.”
Tristan shifted to adjust his trousers. Talking about this was getting him hard all over again.
“You’re going to use your hand to caress yourself.
You’ll know what you like and don’t like based on how it feels.
When you’re touching the right place, the bundle of nerves at the top of your sex, the sensation will make your body beg for more.
Between your thighs you’ll grow hot and slick.
That wetness is your body’s natural fluid, and its purpose is to bring you pleasure by allowing my cock to thrust into you without pain.
We both would enjoy it, I promise you, not that we’ll get the chance. ”
She dropped her hands. “What?”
Tristan swallowed. The words tasted bitter on his tongue. “Your husband will be the next man to take you to bed. It can’t be me.”
Bloody hell, she looked disappointed. So was he. It felt wrong to think of her in another man’s arms. That would be the end of them, of this.
“I don’t want to think about that right now.”
“Nor do I. When you slip those curious fingers between your thighs, I want you to imagine it’s my hand.
I want you to think of me in this bed with you, kissing you, stroking you, hearing you cry out my name as stars flash behind your eyes and the sweetest rapture you will ever know claims your body. ”
Her breathing had quickened as she held his gaze. “Rapture?”
“The climax when the body reaches the pinnacle of pleasure. You’ll see.”
“I don’t think I will. I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“You do. It’s instinct. And if not, next time I will help you, if you’re ready for me to touch you. Until then, this is your solo mission for the evening.” He stood, straightening his rumpled jacket. He winked at her. “I expect a full report in the morning.”
She rolled her eyes, but she smiled, and Tristan considered it a win.
“Goodnight, Flick.”
“Goodnight.”