The dress loosened under his insistent fingers, slipping away from Cecilia’s shoulders. Beneath it was another layer of fabric, another barrier to the alabaster smoothness of her skin. He ran one hand down her spine, fingers tracing a teasing path. With the other, he tugged the stiff material of the fabric down from one shoulder.
Suddenly, Cecilia pushed his chest, forcing him back into the plump pillows of the bed. He allowed himself to fall back and remained there as Cecilia mounted him, drawing up her skirts to allow her to straddle his legs, pinning them beneath her. She applied more butter to her fingers and began working one hand on each thigh. Fingertips, soft but surprisingly strong, kneaded the flesh, pressing hard. Pain that was almost indistinguishable from pleasure sparked in each thigh, but especially the left. Lionel let out a groan, reaching for her face. She batted away his hands, pushing and kneading his thighs, hands working up and then down.
She impatiently rolled her dress down to her hips, freeing her arms from it and then hauling her undergarments up from the waist. The tight waistband of the dress hampered her efforts momentarily but then gave up. The linen undergarments came off and went over Cecilia’s head. She tossed them aside, shaking her head to allow her mane of fiery hair to cascade freely. It contrasted with her pale skin and the pink of her nipples in the middle of pert and proud breasts.
For a moment, she looked down on him, half naked and unashamedly so. There was a look of wanton lust in her eyes that drove Lionel’s own passionate desire to a frenzy. He felt himself harden, pressing against Cecilia as she moved herself forward. Her loins lay atop his own, and when Lionel pushed his hips, he saw her eyes widen.
He reached for her, hands cupping her breasts, savoring the feel of smooth skin and perfect, curving flesh. Between his deft fingers, her nipples became erect, pushing out between the gripthat was making Cecilia gasp. She squirmed atop him, making Lionel moan in turn.
Cecilia grinned, shaking her magnificent red hair so that it fell across her face. Lionel found himself moving in concert with her. Their bodies were not yet joined but in delicious contact. He found himself yearning for that contact that would join them together but at the same time wanting to delay that moment, stretching out the anticipation as long as they both could endure it.
With one hand, he reached blindly for the tray of butter, scooping a handful, and then slathering it across Cecilia’s breasts. She squealed and Lionel sat up, effortlessly resisting her attempts to push him back.
He had allowed her to hold him down before but now demonstrated how powerless she was compared to his strength. Bending his head to her bosom, he began to lap up the warm, liquid butter that was trickling between and around her breasts. Cecilia put her head back and closed her eyes, moaning and wrapping her arms about her husband’s head.
He brought one of her breasts to his mouth, sucking it clean. Then, seizing her about the waist, he flipped her to the bed, rolling atop her with only the smallest twinge of pain from his leg. A trickle of golden, melted butter had worked its way to her navel and now Lionel intercepted it, running his tongue up her stomach to the hollow between her breasts. She ran her hands from her beautiful swan-like neck, down and over her nipples toher stomach. As she did she smeared the melted butter over her skin, giving it a sheen in the light from the fire.
Lionel kissed her lips with fevered passion, tasting the saltiness of butter there, feeling it greasing their skin as their bodies came together. Cecilia lifted her legs as Lionel’s body moved up and slipped in. The moment had been prolonged and now neither could delay it further.
Cecilia gasped, crying out as they came together. At first, it was slow and controlled, each thrust of Lionel’s hips joining their bodies deeper. Then passion overcame them both. Cecilia writhed and clawed at Lionel’s body, demanding more and craving release at the same time. Whenever Lionel looked down at the pale, shining skin of his wife, at the sight of her writhing pleasure, he could barely restrain himself. He craved her like a man dying of thirst craved a drop of water. His body demanded hers, sought her touch, her taste. The sight of her ecstasy was the single most perfect vision he had ever seen. No master artist could compose such an image to better communicate their fiery desire.
Finally came the moment of release, when neither could hold back any longer. It was shattering and glorious, leaving Lionel gasping and speechless as he lay atop Cecilia. She was unmoving, head buried in his shoulder, arms and legs wrapped tightly about him. They unwound themselves slowly, muscles becoming liquid. Lionel looked into Cecilia’s eyes, beginning to move to the side. But she held on tighter, reaching to press her hands to his firm buttocks.
“Not yet,” she whispered, “I want to feel you a little longer.”
Her face was flushed and her eyes, bright. Lionel brushed sweat-darkened hair from her forehead and remained where he was, savoring the feel of her body around his.
“I think you have given me a child,” she whispered.
Lionel’s eyes widened at that. “You can tell?”
“Not according to medicine,” Cecilia giggled, “but I feel it. It is different this time. There is a…” she seemed to flounder, searching for the words, “…a sanctity. A feeling that there is more than just the fulfillment of carnal pleasure at work. As though we have just done something far greater. I am probably being silly.”
Lionel considered his feelings for a moment. Had she said this after their first time making love, he would have believed it a clumsy attempt to trap him. Now, things were different. He was slowly beginning to accept his feelings for Cecilia, his desire for her, and his desire to be with her. It was more than just lust. He wanted to be her friend as well as her lover. Wanted her to be his confidante and he, hers. The idea of her becoming the mother of his child was beyond even his wildest imaginings. The revenge against Thorpe left little room in his heart. What room there was had been commandeered by Cecilia. Except he found there was yet more room than he had thought.
“Is it… is it wrong that I sincerely hope that you are right,” he breathed.
“You do?” Cecilia whispered in confusion, running gentle fingers down his face. “You have never mentioned it to me.”
“I have never mentioned it to myself.”
“But… but what about the separation?” she asked, brows furrowing.
“I am no longer certain. I never considered an heir. My mind was too full of other things,” Lionel admitted, “but presently, in this moment, I feel that I desire you to be the mother of my children more than life itself.”
“Children?” Cecilia laughed, “I spoke of a child.”
“And I would have you be the mother to many. This house needs the sound of laughter and joy.”
“I think we have taken our first steps in that direction. My body tingles with the magic within me,” Cecilia smiled.
In that moment, with a sheen of sweat and glowing skin, eyes alight with feminine mystery, Cecilia looked like a pagan goddess. A sorceress of ancient times, attuned to nature. Fey and powerful. Lionel was in awe of her beauty, of the aura in which she clothed herself. In awe and in love. The feeling had stolen over him without his being consciously aware. Acceptance of her as his wife had been the product of his rational mind. The love that he was now aware of was from somewhere deeper. More primal. He knew in that moment that he would kill or die for her.That if she wished it he would renounce his title and his lands, forsake his name and his legacy.
“I… I think I…” he whispered, but trailed off, a pit growing in his chest at the dangerous realization.Dangerous,for he was stepping into the very same trap he had sworn to never let ensnare his heart again. But the words came out of their own volition. “I think I am falling in love with you, Cecilia Grisham.”
Tears filled her eyes and she stroked his face, reaching up to kiss his lips tenderly. In those proceedings seconds, all his fears were vanquished like the final echoes of a fading storm.
“And I love you, my heart. I think I always have. From the first moment I saw you in the Great Hall.”
