Chapter 31
GRACE
It was only the second time they had kissed, and already his lips felt familiar.
Her body surged toward his, though there was nowhere else to go, his arms holding her tightly against him.
And when his lips left hers, Grace prayed they came back, or were elsewhere, as long as they were on her, because she had just flirted with him, asked to be with him, if only indirectly, and she wouldn’t have the courage to say it out loud again or tell him she wanted this.
“My patience is running low.” He placed a kiss on her jawline, his hot breath on her skin, then moved to her neck.
“ Your curiosity is too obvious. And by God, I wish I were a better man and could give you more time. But I’m not so patient, not with you, Grace. You are driving me completely insane.”
Did he know how he made her feel? Unlike him, Grace didn’t dare to tell him what she wanted.
“Stay tonight,” he whispered.
His kisses felt hot, and so was his skin—so much skin, so bare, so soft over the hard taut muscles, so warm under her fingertips.
“Yes,” she whispered back, right away trembling at the decision.
But his lips took hers in a kiss. A kiss that wasn’t as patient as before.
Thoughts about this had haunted Grace for days. Would he like her body? Would he notice the scars on the inside of her forearm? Or the one under her ribs that was an ugly mark, from her childhood, made even uglier by the healing episode five years ago?
Grace wanted the lights off, wanted this to be quick, just to know what it was like, hoping he would not bring it up the next day.
These thoughts flickered in her mind but faded away as she lost herself in his kiss, his hands already undoing the buttons of her bodice.
“Take my trousers off,” he ordered, undressing her as she tried to calm her breathing and hesitated. “Grace?” he repeated.
She did as she was told, aroused at being in charge of undressing him, pushing his trousers down his hips. She undid his undergarments next and tugged them down, releasing him from the fabric.
He kicked away his trousers and undergarments, all the while kissing her, and she prayed he didn’t stop so she didn’t have to look him in the eyes or down, especially down.
He was so confident and glorious, standing naked in front of her. She was still almost fully dressed and nervous, shrinking into herself in white-hot shame.
“May I?” In seconds, he expertly undid her corset, as if he had done it before, then moved to her skirt, undoing it and pushing it down her legs, letting it pool at her feet.
He studied her with a soft smile as he dropped her garments on the floor, one by one. The camisole was gone, leaving her naked down to her waist. The undergarments followed, leaving her in nothing but her stockings.
Shame scorched her. Her hands, rigid as iron rods, pressed to her sides as she tingled under his gaze. It slowly lingered on her nakedness, taking it in, pausing on the spots that she wanted to hide the most.
And then her husband kneeled before her.
He rolled one stocking down, his fingers intimately grazing her skin. He did the same to the other. His face was so close to her abdomen that she held her breath. That scar—that ugly mark—was right there, in front of him.
He stroked her hips as his gaze leisurely glided up and down her naked body, taking in every detail.
Then his eyes locked with hers. He leaned in and kissed her right thigh.
Her face caught on fire. Heat burned through her.
He did the same to the left one.
She felt her need seep out of her, squeezed her thighs together, and trembled as his kisses went higher, inward, along her inner thighs.
She felt his soft lips inching closer to her junction, then his tongue licking her skin, taking a swipe between her legs, darting so shamelessly to her junction, then again, sneaking its way into her privates.
Shock washed over her.
She took a tiny step away from him.
“Shhh, darling,” he calmed her, reading her thoughts. He trailed kisses up her abdomen, all the while caressing her hips. “There’s no need to be nervous.”
She didn’t answer but let herself sink her fingers into his hair, let him touch her where he wanted.
She wanted to pull back when he cupped her breast with his hand.
Wanted to protest when he kissed it. But her body leaned into his touch, her need betraying her with the gasps she couldn’t hold back.
Slowly, Drasko rose to his feet. His hands didn’t stop caressing. His mouth didn’t leave her skin. His touches were everywhere, soothing and making her forget herself.
“Have you ever been with a man?” he asked against her lips.
How dare you…?
“No,” she said on an exhale.
He kissed her, insistently, so deeply it made her dizzy.
“Let me show you what a lover can do,” he murmured.
She had desires—it was too late to deny it. Being so close to him had some wicked power over her. Her body burned for him. She thought of him as a ruthless man, taking what he wanted, and expected him to be rough. Yet his touch was shockingly tender, left her weak and yearning for more.
Drasko picked her up like she was a feather and brought her to his bed. He lay her down on the sheets, kissing, kissing, making her forget the logistics of what this would be like or what she was supposed to do.
She’d thought she’d be an offering. Instead, he offered himself.
She’d thought he would use her and take what he wanted. But he didn’t seem to be in hurry, his hands and mouth slowly exploring her body.
His hand slid between her legs, cupping her, his fingers opening her up. There, right there …
She still tried to hold on to her modesty and covered his hand with hers, protecting what she thought belonged only to her.
He broke the kiss. “Grace, darling, let go of my hand,” he said softly but with authority. “Let go.”
She moved her hand off his, and his fingers resumed the strokes, circled her tender flesh, igniting the sensations that made her thighs fall apart wider, inviting more of his touches.
“Good,” he whispered as she echoed with a whimper.
His mouth took hers in a kiss again. His tongue stroked hers. Heat pooled between her legs as he touched her.
“You are so ready,” he murmured, settling between her legs. “Darling, look at me.”
She opened her eyes and met his. He guided her hand to his waist, leaving it there. “We will do it slowly. It might hurt. If it is too much, you tell me.”
She nodded timidly, taken aback by the concern in his voice.
She felt the pressure of him against her entrance, invasive and making her hold her breath. She closed her eyes, bracing for that pain she knew would come.
“No, no, no, eyes on me, darling.” His voice brought her back.
He kissed her gently, calming her. And then he was pushing inside her.
Quick sharp pain tore through her like fire, but she didn’t take her eyes off his as he searched her face for signs of how it felt.
He gently lowered his forehead to hers and pushed inside her again.
And the pain subsided, dissolved under his caring gaze and the unexplainable pleasure that started spreading inside her where he made her feel so full.
“Just breathe,” he whispered and kissed the corner of her mouth as he slid deeper inside her. “There.” He kissed her again. “There.” He thrust inside her, filling her up, then stilled.
“How does it feel?” he asked and cupped her cheek.
She rolled her hips, adjusting, wanted to be brave for him, to show him she could do anything, could be like those scandalous women who made men feel so good.
“I am going to move again,” he whispered.
And he did, gently thrust into her, this time the slight pain mixing with a physical craving for more of him.
“Ah,” she whimpered in surprise, rolling her hips at him.
His hand was down there again, stroking her as he thrust inside her in slow rhythmic movements.
She tried to catch up with the spark of pleasure that was starting inside her. And then she caught it. With the friction of his thrusts. Under the stroke of his fingers.
His hand moved to cup the back of her head, holding her in place. He thrust into her deeply but gently, in rhythm with his tongue that invaded her mouth again, seeking out hers. His gold chain fell onto her chest, tickling her as he moved, his body so big and yet not heavy at all.
She didn’t understand the way her own body reacted to his.
He was already weaving himself into her, slowly, like a sensual tune weaved into one’s mind, the phantom of it echoing off one’s lips for hours afterward.
But the tunes were temporary, and Drasko was a constant.
He was hard to ignore or resist, and every day, she found herself seeking out more of him.
Her body now did too—responding to him, so sensitive to every movement, to his bare skin against hers, the silky sheets under her back, the mattress under her toes that she dug into, riding that wave of pleasure.
Everything felt different, the scents and touches too sensual, her surroundings too vague, his lips everywhere on her, while the sensations in the spot where the two of them fused together saturated her body with a wild need that grew in giant waves.
The orgasm caught her by surprise, washed over her like the most wonderful bliss, tearing moans out of her. The feeling was powerful yet too short.
Drasko grunted into her neck as he carelessly kissed it and stopped moving.
Suddenly, Grace felt empty, void of that bliss that was quickly leaving her body. She wondered why it couldn’t last longer, if it possibly could, and if they could do it again.
It felt so raw and somehow unclean, too physical but so much more erotic than what she had been led to believe. It had taken away her nervousness, like the effect of an opium tincture.
But now she was too aware of herself again, the way Drasko eased out of her. The silly books she read—they were too romantic. This , this felt like a dirty secret, delicious and improper at the same time. Right away, she wanted to tuck it away, hide her nakedness, run, so as not to meet his eyes.
Drasko kissed her cheek.
“Not what you expected, wife?” His smile touched her lips in a more possessive kiss.
He pulled back so he could meet her eyes. He stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers. That twinkle in his eyes, his gaze dropping to her lips, the way he said the word ‘wife’ felt almost… scandalous. The two of them naked, still wrapped in each other, felt outrageous.
He pushed away and lay on his back. Grace stilled, not knowing what to do.
Now that the euphoria was gone, Grace was shy again.
Would he taunt her?
Would he mention her moans?
She had moaned, hadn’t she?
That very moment, his arm slid under her shoulders and pulled her into him. And she lay against him, rested her hand on his chest, afraid to say a word.
They lay like this for a while as she was acutely aware of both their naked bodies next to each other, her thigh on top of his, skin against skin, the sensation bewildering yet intimate.
His breathing grew even. She still didn’t look at him, but at last, untangled herself from him and sat up, her back to him.
This was it. She needed to go and was praying he was asleep and wouldn’t confront her.
He shifted behind her and sat up. His arm wrapped around her waist, making her hold her breath, and his body pressed against hers from behind.
“Running away?” His hot breath in her ear made her tingle with a promise of more.
His muscled forearm moved up her torso, pushing her breasts up, her nipples shamelessly perky.
He pressed a tender kiss on her shoulder. “It’s perfectly fine to want more. You don’t have to hide.”
His fingers tilted her chin up so she had nowhere to look but him, his warm green gaze unraveling the memories of their lovemaking.
“Do you know what makes me unexplainably happy?” he asked. That she enjoyed it? “That I am and will be the only man to ever touch you and have you all to myself.”
“Two nights per month, right?” she blurted out without thinking and right away felt like a stubborn child.
She shouldn’t have said that and regretted, regretted right away her silly reminder.
“If you are afraid, Grace, you can leave. If you resent me, go. I won’t stop you.”
Disappointment pricked her. She didn’t resent him. This was all too new, and her nervousness got the best of her.
“The night isn’t over,” he said. “We have five hours until dawn, and then with the first light, you can forget this ever happened. Though you will not.”
His words started a brush fire inside her. Another feeling laced with her desire—curiosity.
“You… you can do it again?” she asked.
His body shook against hers in a low chuckle.
“What do you think?” He bucked his hips against her, his hardness pressing into her thigh.
His lips pressed against the sensitive skin behind her ear in a soft kiss, making her slick with need again.
“Did it hurt?” he murmured against her skin.
She let out a needy whimper, trembling with need at the way his fingers grazed her nipple. “Not much.”
“Are you sore?”
A wave of hot shame washed over her. The words were so open and concerning, that she wanted to scoff and tell him it was none of his business.
“No,” she lied, wondering what he would ask next.
“Then you tell me,” he whispered, kissing her neck, sending pleasant shivers down her body, “how many times you can take me, and I will show you many ways I can do it. Come here.”
He pulled her into his arms again.