Chapter 14
Chapter
Fourteen
Like a blossom, her mouth opened to him, and his tongue delved into the inner recesses of its moist haven. In and out, over and over, he tasted the clean fragrance that was her. Her tongue met his, danced with his, and then she groaned.
At the sound, he died a little. He wanted her; he was ready for her. And she wanted him, no mistake. Yet, if he were to remain honorable, and he must, he knew he had to ignore the urgings of his body.
He ended the kiss, let out a sigh and sat up. She followed him into a sitting position. Leaning forward, she reached up to spread her arms around his neck.
He grasped hold of her arms, as though to remove them from around him, yet he couldn’t quite manage it.
Instead, he turned his face in toward her, rubbing his head along the skin of her upper arms. After a while, he said, “You surely test me. But you know we cannot carry on in this manner much longer. Already I fear I will obtain little sleep this night.”
“Indeed?”
At this very moment, something in her abdomen moved. He felt it.
“Is this a movement of your child?” he asked.
She looked surprised, as well as he. “I think it was. It is the first movement I have felt.” She grinned up at him. “How delightful it happened now. I believe he might approve of what we are doing.”
Black Lion returned her smile and placed his hand over her stomach. “Maybe he will move again.”
As she eased her hand over his, Black Lion let his gaze wash over her, and he would have had to be a blind fool not to recognize the raw hunger illuminated within her eyes.
But he shut himself off from the sight. It did nothing to help his resolve. Delicately, she rubbed her hand over his, then smoothed the backs of her fingers over his cheek. He groaned, even while his stomach took a steep dive.
“Your cheekbones are high,” she commented, “and your skin is soft.”
“I am not soft.”
“Well, perhaps soft is the wrong word. What I mean is smooth-shaven. Have you a beard?”
“Not as the white man has,” he responded quietly.
“There are a few whiskers which grow on my face, perhaps, but I, like my fathers before me, pluck these, and they are not many. I fear it would be a wasted effort for me to shave as does the white man. And if I let the hair grow on my face, I would still never have a full beard.”
“It is interesting, I think. You are so different from everything I am accustomed to. I wonder about your chest.”
He swallowed, holding himself rigidly back from her. “My chest?”
“Yes. Do you have hair on your chest, or do you shave it?”
“Shave it? I have no hair on my chest, nor do I have any on my arms or legs, as the white man does.”
Again, she traced her hand over the contours of his face. He grabbed hold of her hand, and then, without ceremony, she placed the fingers of her other hand over his lips, requiring him to, once again, keep control, not only over himself, but of their situation.
She said quietly, “I would like to see your chest.”
He almost lost it. “Do you try to seduce me, even after all I have said?”
“No, well…maybe. It is only that I am curious.”
“Curious? Perhaps I should also remind you I am doing all I can to keep your honor and mine close to my heart.”
“And you do it very well. I would still like to see it.”
“My chest? Now?”
“Now would, indeed, be a most fitting time.”
He smiled at her slightly. He could not very well help doing so, and he said, as though in challenge, “If I take off my shirt, will you lower your dress for me so I may also see your bosom?”
Her eyelids lifted to reveal the blue depths of her eyes, which stared up at him so innocently. She whispered, “Do you dare me to do it, then?”
“If you are to see me without my shirt, then I think it only fair.”
He was playing with fire and he knew it, for he had no intention of undressing her…or did he? As though struck by a tomahawk, a realization came to him.
What was wrong with him? There was more than one way to give and receive satisfaction. Yes, the old ones had spent many hours lecturing the young boys on the duties of a husband, but this didn’t mean he had to be stupid about it.
She was his wife. She deserved pleasure, as did he. There were other ways of making love, and the thought of those ways almost sent him spiraling out of control. But again, he held himself in check.
“My wife, I will show you my chest, if you like, but realize if I do this, there will be no going back for us. Once we begin going down this path—”
He had no more than started speaking when she threw herself into his arms. “Would you stop talking?”
“Hau. I can stop talking.” He gently lowered her back to the ground, whereupon he followed her down. “It is cold.”
“I am not cold,” she uttered.
“Still, we will place your cloak under you, for I intend to see you naked.”
“Oh.”
“But I may need your help, for the white man’s clothes confuse me, and white women wear so many of them.”
She smiled at him, and he grinned back. “I do not think this will be a problem.”
“Good,” he said. “It is good.”
Kneeling beside her, he removed his shirt, and Suzette stared at him as though he might have been a Greek statue, rather than flesh and blood.
Of one matter, it was certain: he rivaled those Greek specimens as to the image of the ideal man.
Firm muscles met her vision, a view completely unhampered by the unsightliness of hair.
Light and shadows danced over his silhouette, causing her to wonder, was it simply her perspective of him?
Was it the way the moonlight shone on him? Or was he truly beautiful?
Here in the deep shadows of the place where they had said their vows, the moment seemed somehow sacred. Perhaps it was only right for them to consummate their marriage here.
Exactly how this deed would affect their future life, she could only speculate. In sooth, such reflections didn’t seem important. Right now, all that mattered to her was him and the way he gazed at her as though he adored her.
She whispered, “I think you are beautiful.”
He shook his head. “No,” he murmured. “You…you are the one who is beautiful. I have always thought so, from the first instant I saw you. Though our first words to one another might have been said in anger, this does not make a man blind. And I have much admired your physical beauty. Perhaps it was not in jest for me to have proposed to you on that day. Maybe I was wise in ways I do not understand. I can only now thank the Above Ones for giving me the sense to suggest what I did to you. But come, I am much ready for this, as you are, too, I think. And I have yet to undress you.”
“Yes.” She sat up, and turning slightly, she presented her backside to him. “I will help you. There are buttons at the back of this dress. I think you could undo those easier than I.”
“Hau.”
She felt his fingers against her, and she shivered as tingles raced over her skin.
“Are you cold?”
“No,” she replied. “I am…wanting this…very much, I think.”
At last it was done, and he lowered the front of her gown, but far from being naked, there were yet other layers of clothing to be considered.
“It is a chemise and a loose corset,” she whispered, “but these I can easily remove.”
“I am glad. This one piece of your clothing looks unmovable to me.”
“There are hooks and ties that hold this garment together, and you may have to help me again, for the ties are at the back of the corset.”
“Hau, I see them. They are tight. Ah, now I understand why the white woman has an uncannily tiny waist. She is helped.”
“Indeed.” Suzette grinned and glanced at him over her shoulder. While working over the lacing, he returned her smile and placed a kiss along her cheek.
At last, it was done, and Suzette felt the relief she always experienced upon the relaxing of her corset. But the garment looked as though it were glued to her, for it continued to hug her curves. At least it did until he released her from it, pulling the clothing away from her body.
Then, still kneeling at her back, he reached around to caress her breasts, showering her neck with kisses at the same time. She sighed, leaning back into him, opening herself up to him. “Oh, what you do to me.”
He mumbled, “And what you do to me.”
“Hmm…” she purred. “But I wonder, what would it be like to experience the solid contours of your chest up close to mine? Its rigidness against me?”
“Hau, let us discover this.” He turned her around to face him, pulling her in so close to him their bodies might have been one.
The sensation was achingly exquisite, and she twisted in his arms, back and forth, up and down, as though she would imprint his image on her. He moved with her, rubbing his body next to her, as if they both were involved in the sensuousness of dance.
He growled, the sound low in his throat, and she moaned, then murmured, “Your skin is a superb shade of brown, though slightly red in undertone—do you see how it looks against the paleness of mine? I wish I were as brown as you. The color is delicious.”
“Hiya. You are perfect as you are. I would not have you change for me or for anyone or anything.”
“How you flatter me.”
“No flattery. Truth. But I think we talk too much.” Leaning down, he pressed his lips to the bud of her breast.
He growled, the sound reminding her of his namesake. Moreover, hearing it aroused her, sent her insides into a frenzy, and casting back her shoulders and head, she offered herself to him, as though she were a feast.
Indeed, he did partake, first suckling on one breast, then the other, his hand kneading the one mound while his lips and tongue relished the other. His free hand slipped down to her pantalettes, pushing them down, until they pooled at her knees.
Still kneeling before her, his fingers found that throbbing place—down there, at the so very private junction between her legs. She moaned. In reaction, the rigid form of his sex jerked against her stomach. Ah! She moaned again.