Rose
“There’s a good wife,” Grady praises me.
He stands from his chair, his tall frame casting a shadow over mine. Heat pulses through me. The fine hairs along my arms straighten as my skin tingles with awareness.
A man’s never seen me naked.
My mother and her friends spoke of sex as something to be endured. But I’ve seen the distant ways they kiss their husbands. More air than cheek. Eyes darting away as if in disgust.
Nothing about Grady disgusts me.
We married over an hour ago and my body still hums with the warmth of his kiss.
Now, alone in our home, there’s no audience to interrupt us. His hands reach for my hips. No dress, corset, or even chemise to hinder his touch. With a gentle tug, he pulls me into his embrace. The course fabric of his shirt brushes abrasively against the stiff points of my nipples.
I nearly kneel over at the wave of warmth that pools between my thighs.
“Whenever you need me, I want you to come to me just like this,” he whispers against my lips.
“Bold of you to assume, I will ever need you.”
“Oh, my darling Rose,” he laughs. “You will. Mark my words. Once I’m done with you, you’ll never mention separate bedrooms again.”
He kisses me then, smooth lips brushing mine, as heat curls low in my belly. He doesn’t stop until I’m dizzy with the need to breathe.
“Come here,” he growls.
Pressed against his front like a wanton harlot, I don’t immediately catch his meaning.
Then his hands abandon my waist and slide underneath my bottom.
Cheeks burning I sling my arms around his neck and give a little hop.
He catches my weight swiftly and effortlessly lifting me up until my legs can wrap around his waist.
With my thighs squeezing his hips, my core presses against the fly of his trousers. Hot with need, I roll my hips seeking friction.
“Answer me honestly,” he says as he begins walking back towards the bedroom. “Do you want me to fuck you, Rose?”
My breath catches, pulse hammering in my throat.
“I do.” The words mirror our vows. I promised myself to this man then and I’m promising myself to him now.
“Tell me you want me.”
He leans over the bed, depositing me gently onto cotton sheets that smell like soap.
“I want you,” I whisper back.
He stands up straight, dark eyes gleaming in low light. The buttons of his shirt slip out one by one as his nimble fingers pluck at them. I get my first look at my husband’s chest. The muscles his shirt failed to hide, ripple as his hands drop to the button of his trousers.
Noticing the prevalent wet spot from where I rubbed myself on him, I scarcely have time to blush before his trousers drop.
I’ve seen illustrations. I’ve heard married women whisper behind white gloved hands. Neither prepared me for the hard length of him.
Thick from base to tip in a shade lighter than the thick muscular thighs it hangs heavily between, it draws my curiosity. I reach out, gripping it softly and running my hand down its length.
Grady shudders above me, a low painful moan pouring from his lips.
“Did I hurt you?” I ask as my hand freezes midway through another pass.
“Fucking hell Rose,” he says through gritted teeth. “If you touch me like that I won’t last long.”
Squeezing him gently I stroke his length again. He’s so responsive to such a simple touch. His muscles tense, arms flexing as he locks his fingers behind his head.
I only have a minute to marvel at the warm weight of him in my hand before it jerks slightly and white pearly seed coats my hand and arm.
He groans loud and long above me as more liquid spurts out of the tip. His dark eyes meet mine as I dip a finger into my mouth. Salty musk bursts across my tongue as he leans forward to kiss me again.
“Lie back, wife.”
Knowing the practical application I’m surprised when instead of sliding his hips between mine, he settles lower on the bed. The hair that he wore slicked back has lost its shape. Strands hang over his forehead as he leans down.
I start to ask what he’s doing, but the first touch of his tongue to my core silences me. I don’t care what he’s doing.
All I know is that it feels wonderful.
He kisses my center, tongue slicing through my folds, and licking deep. My toes curl and my eyes roll back as he thrusts inside me, slick and hot. The ache between my thighs grows. My essence drips onto the bed beneath us, but I can’t be bothered.
His tongue is rough against my sensitive folds. My pleasure crests making my back arch as my muscles clench. Fists clench sheets. My core clenches around his tongue.
Lying back onto the bed, all the tension melts out of my body as bliss blankets my mind. Grady’s arms bracket my head, his hips sliding between mine until the tip of his length rubs against my slit.
“Every second I’m not inside you feels like dying,” he whispers into my ear.
He presses his hips forward until I take every last inch. There’s a small moment of pain as my body adjusts to his, but then when he withdraws pleasure races along my walls.
“Bring me to life, Rose.”
Clinging to his shoulders, my hands slipping along his arms with heat pulsing through my core all I can do is hang on to him. Dizzying waves of pleasure ripple through me, suns burst behind my eyelids, and my entire body shakes.
I whisper his name and he moans above me. Warmth fills me as his length twitches in spurts. His dark eyes lock with mine as he settles his weight over me.
“Do you still want your own room?” he asks with a lazy smile.
He’s entirely too confident. I should lie or demure to tamp down his ego, but I can’t bring myself to do either.
“Hell, no.”
He kisses my smile until I melt against him. His length slips out soft and spent, but it’s not long before he’s nudging my thighs apart and sinking into me once again.
Later when Grady’s breathing deepens and sleep claims him easily, I slip from the bed. The basin water is cool against my skin as I wash, for once not avoiding my own reflection in the mirror.
I’m the same woman I have always been. The uneven line along my jaw, the tightened skin that pulls when I smile. I trace it with my fingers, for once not mourning a different face.
I think of Grady’s mouth against my skin, of the way his hands held me. As if I were not broken or ruined or less than whole.
I smile, testing the movement. The skin pulls. It always will. It just no longer bothers me.