“Yes.”
At first, the caress was tentative. It became more assured when she sighed and rolled her head back. The wicked finger entered her, slowly parting her folds. When it came back out, it was glistening with the proof that she was more aroused than she had ever been in her life. Aife watched, fascinated, as Torsten’s finger plunged inside her pink petals a second time, retreated and then entered her a third time, before another one joined in the sensual dance. He had such strong, masculine hands, she had never imagined they would ever feel so soft or handle her with such delicacy. The other day he had merely stroked the nub at the apex of her thighs, and skimmed at her entrance, as she had not dared tell or show him that she usuallyplunged her fingers deep inside her heat when she pleasured herself.
“So soft,” he rasped, “so hot, so tight, so wet.”
“Yes,” she breathed back.
“For me.”
“For you.”
She did feel slick and ready. And with every thrust of his fingers, every word from his mouth, she could feel herself melt further, her body grow hotter. He teased her a long moment, then brought his fingers to his mouth and sucked them clean, wickedness flashing in his eyes.
“Mm, so good. Even better than honey.” He gave a slanted, utterly naughty grin. “Can I get more? Lick you like you licked me the other day?”
Oh. She had been on the verge of begging for it, but wary of frightening him with her eagerness, had not dared. He had already stroked her once, but this was different, much more intimate.
“If you don’t want me to, I won’t,” he hurried to say, as if worried by her silence. “Only I’ve heard about this and I find that I… With you, I want to try.”
“Then yes, please, lick me. Do what you want with me. I’m yours.”
He crept closer to her, placing his hands on her hipbones, lowering his head between her thighs. By the gods, but this was going to kill her.
“So perfect for me,” he groaned, bringing his lips against her folds. “So sweet.”
His tongue flicked out, once, twice. Then he flattened it and gave a series of long, luxurious, utterly scandalous licks along her seam, before engulfing the now throbbing nub between his lips and suckling in much the same way he had suckled her nipples.
Where had he learned to do that? It seemed he was a natural at pleasing women. At pleasing her.
Aife soon stopped thinking and wondering what she had done to deserve such a husband. All her strength deserted her and she fell back on the pallet. She couldn’t watch anymore, she couldn’t hold herself up, she could hardly breathe.
“Ah, wait, Torsten, stop! No, don’t stop! I need more!” she cried. What was she saying? She would die if he stopped now. “More, I’m going to…ah!”
She did die then. But it was the best death anyone could hope for.
It took Aife a long moment to come back to herself. When she did, Torsten was kneeling between her spread legs, his shaft hard as rock and poised at her entrance, ready to push in. His long fingers had encircled her ankles, and he was holding her wide open. Her whole body spasmed in anticipation. How odd. Barely two heartbeats ago she would have sworn she was too spent to do anything, and yet here she was, undulating in invitation.
“Can I?”
Did he really have to ask? Couldn’t he see how desperate she was? “Yes. Take me,” she rasped.
Still, he hesitated. Something was obviously weighing on his mind. “You’re a virgin.” He made a grimace. “I am too, of course, but, unlike you, my first time will not hurt. It doesn’t seem fair. I wish it were the other way around.”
“I don’t.”
Not when he already had his own battle to fight. She might feel a stab of fleeting pain when he plunged inside her, but she was not the one confronting demons. Torsten would have to be far braver than she was. Besides, being taken could not hurt more than being denied was making her ache. She was ready.
“I’m sure it will be fine. I trust you. Please, I need you.” She would never get enough of him, of this pleasure. They were husband and wife, and she already knew they would spend all their nights thus.
He pushed his way in, gently but confidently. The shaft entering her felt like tempered steel gloved in precious silk. No need to worry about him being able to perform, she doubted any man could be harder without hurting himself. A sigh escaped her lips.
“All right?” he asked, pausing once he was fully embedded inside her.
“Yes.” It was more than all right. There was no pain, as such, only the odd but wonderful sensation of being stretched and filled, complete at last. Perhaps her nightly exploration had prepared her for a man’s possession, perhaps she was simply too desperate to finally make love to Torsten to register any discomfort. Whatever the reason, she was glad for it. She could, in all honesty, reassure him that he was not hurting her. “It didn’t hurt.”
“I need to move.” He sounded strained.
“Then do.” She needed him to move also.
