Well, she would take advantage of that,most certainly.
As he watched, she ran her hand up and down his erection, feeling the heat of his arousal under the soft velvet of his skin. When her fingers danced gently over the swollen head, he closed his eyes as though in pain. But when he opened them again, there was no pain in sight.
No, notpain...
“You like this?” she asked, tracing down the sides until she reached his base and the hair that gathered there. So like her in that respect.
“Ido,” he muttered through gritted teeth. “Here. Grip me like this.” He folded her fingers around him until she was cupping him in her palm, her fingers wrapped tight. This time, when she moved her hand, the loose skin came with her, and she marveled at it. He made a different noise this time—a hoarse grunt. Even she had to admit that there was something unmistakably erotic about seeing her hand on him, and the slow, steady way it moved.
“You don’t need to fear,” he said as she continued her exploration, finding a slit in his head and pressing a finger to it. Her finger came away damp. “I’ll ensure you’re fully ready to take me.”
“…Will it hurt?”
He hesitated, but evidently decided that even in this moment, she deserved the truth, no matter how unsavory, because he said, “Most likely. This is my first time with a virgin, but as I understand it, the experience can be painful. You might bleed.”
Painful. That wasn’t precisely what she had been hoping for, but she would endure if it meant having him. And he would be gentle with her; she knew that much.
“Then do it,” she whispered, releasing him and lying back, spreading her legs wide. “Please.”
“Do it?” The corners of his eyes creased with a smile even as he leaned over her, pressing her into the mattress with the weight of his body. They fit together so perfectly; it was hard to imagine being made for anything else. “I have no need for romance, Aurelia, but I would like a little more than that.”
She laughed, covering her face in embarrassment. “Then lie with me, husband,” she said, peering through her fingers to see if this had satisfied him.
He watched her with a contemplative air. “Ask me to make you mine,” he said instead.
At the words, her breath caught. But she felt no hesitation. If he wanted to be hers, she would ask him to be—and she would offer herself to him. And finally, she would have what she had come to want: her husband. Every part of him.
“Sebastian,” she began, reaching up her hands to cup the back of his neck, looking into his eyes with all the earnestness and need she could muster. “Please, make me yours.”
A small groan escaped him, and he brought his erection to the slickness between her legs, rubbing himself there against her delicate flesh. By the dark pleasure in his eyes, this brought yet more pleasure.
Still, before he entered her—as she had expected him to do, and was bracing for the pain—he brought his fingers once again to her entrance. As he rubbed her with the head of his erection, he pressed first one, then two fingers inside. To her surprise, they entered easily, and he worked her with his fingers, moving them in different ways until she thought she might go mad with the pleasure of it all.
Could one go mad from pleasure?
She would certainly find out.
Finally, there was a stretch as he pressed a third inside her, too, taking his time as he moved within her, still rubbing and sliding, the dual sensations overwhelming in her body.
“Are you ready, my shepherdess?” he whispered, and she saw in his face it was a genuine question that required an answer.
“Yes.”
Finally, he withdrew his fingers and pressed his erection to her entrance, tilting his hips and pushing,pushing. First, his head slipped inside, followed by a slow, sensual slide of the rest of him. And this—this—was the meaning of fullness. She had thought his fingers had been a stretch, but this made her so full it ached. It almost burned. As he sank inside, the sensation straddled the border between pleasure and pain, and she wasn’t sure which it became, whether it was ever one without the other.
He met resistance. Without meaning to, she canted her hips a little, changing the angle, and he sank the remainder of the way inside, right to the hilt, fully seated inside her.
A sharp pain flooded her, and she hissed, tensing. Sebastian tensed too, balanced on top of her, and propped himself on his arms so he could watch her face. Though she felt him twitch—felt it because he was inside her, and the sensation was so odd, and so intimate, her head spun—he didn’t move a single muscle.
“Aurelia…” he murmured, kissing one cheek, then the other. “Are you all right?”
“Yes, I—” She broke off, unsure how to describe what was happening. The sting was fading now, replaced by that sensation offullness. She had never known what it was to be whole before he came to make love to her.
Surely this waslove. Surely, surely it could be nothing else. He watched her with such tender awareness; her pain mattered to him, and he wanted to soothe her, alleviate it, as quickly as possible.
Her chest swelled and, impossibly, her eyes grew damp at the very knowledge that he surrounded her. Inside her, above her, all around her. He had conquered every part of her—no, she had offered herself willingly.
The pain fled. She slid her hands along his shoulders, then to his sides, and wrapped her legs around his hips, opening herself still further and holding him to her. They were locked in this dance until it ended.
