The hazel eyes flew open, startled by the tone of his voice. They found a place just over his shoulder upon which to fixate. “Yes, my lord,” she whispered. Her cheeks were very pink, and her youthful form leaned away from him.
He yanked her hard against him.
“Oh!” She struggled, but he would not give way, and Philippa felt every inch of her husband’s lean hard body as it pressed against her. Her gaze met his.
“Now, Philippa,” he told her, “I intend caressing every inch of your delicious little body, and I intend that you caress me in return. We will kiss as well. And when our lustful natures have been well aroused, little one, then we shall come together as man and wife, and you will cease this prudish nonsense. The joining of two bodies can, with God’s blessing, produce offspring, but it can also offer pleasures unlike any you have ever known before, and that is good. I suspect the queen has never known those pleasures, and for that I am sorry. But you will know them!”
“The queen says a wife should say the rosary and pray without ceasing when her lord mounts her,” Philippa informed him primly.
“Not a bead, girl, or a prayer when we come together. The only noise I would hear from your lips should be cries of delight, and pleas for me not to cease. Do you understand, Philippa?” His big hands fondled her bottom, squeezing the twin halves.
Philippa started, surprised, and in an effort to escape those wicked hands pressed against him. But then her eyes widened with greater surprise. There was something hard pressing against her belly. “Oh!” she gasped, and tried to back away but he would not allow her to do so. “Crispin!” she pleaded, using his name.
“Aye?” he responded, his eyes dancing with merriment.
“Please,” she said softly.
“Please what?” he replied.
Suddenly a tear rolled down her cheek. “Oh, you are cruel!” she told him.
His tongue reached out and licked the tear away. “Aye, but sometimes a man must be cruel to be kind,” he told her.
“I do not understand,” she said, and she was trembling now. His tongue on her cheek had been the most sensuous gesture she had ever experienced in all her life.
“Nay, you wouldn’t,” he answered. “Not yet, little one. But you will.” Then he lifted her up in his arms and carried her to the waiting bed, where he gently deposited her.
Her eyes could no longer avoid him. He had an elegant body much like the statues in Lord Cambridge’s gardens. It was far more beautiful than his plain face. She cried out softly when that body covered hers.
He had seen the admiration in her gaze when she had looked at him, though her eyes had not lingered on his manhood at all. He was careful to position himself so that he did not crush her. Taking her face into his two hands he began to kiss her again. He was ready, but she was not, and he would harm her no more than was necessary to capture the prize of her virginity. His lips brushed over her lips and her face. To his delight she responded shyly, returning his kisses, her arms going about his neck once again. He rolled them so that he was now beneath her, and she atop him. She gave a little cry of surprise, but did not protest. He drew her forward until her breasts were within easy reach of his mouth. First he buried his face in the valley between those small fruits, and then, unable to restrain himself, he began to lick her nipples, first one, and then the other, back and forth until she was moaning so softly that at first he wasn’t even certain the sound was coming from her. His mouth closed over one of those tempting nubs. He suckled hard, and she cried out, but the sound was neither of fear nor distaste. When he had taken all he could from the first nipple he moved to the second, drawing on it with pleasure, taking delight in her as her head moved back and forth, the auburn hair tumbling about her.
“This cannot be right,” she gasped.
His teeth grazed the nipple teasingly.
“Oh, Crispin!” But she did not ask him to cease.
He rolled again, and she was beneath him once more. He began to bathe her body with his fleshy tongue. First her round little breasts, then her throat, and he felt the pulse leaping beneath his caresses. He rained kisses from her shoulders to her hands, each in its turn, and sucked suggestively upon her fingers. His tongue then foraged its way across her shapely torso. He kissed the small mound of her belly, considering carefully his next move. He wanted to taste the virgin nectar of her, but she was much too innocent for so powerful a passion yet. Instead he moved to lie next to her, cuddling her, while his hand explored her further, brushing across the curls on her mons, pressing a finger between her moist nether lips.
“Oh, you mustn’t,” she cried weakly when he did.
“Aye, I must,” he told her. He found her sensitive little jewel and began to worry it, gently at first, and then more insistently.
“Oh! Oh!” Philippa half sobbed. What was he doing? And why did it feel so ... so ... absolutely wonderful? This could not be right. The joining was for procreation, but then a small part of her reason deliberated that they had not yet been joined. She shivered with the small wave of pleasure that washed over her, not realizing at first that he had pushed a single finger into her love channel.
God’s nightshirt, the earl silently swore to himself, she was very tight. And his finger quickly found her maidenhead. It was fully intact, proving her innocence. He moved the finger within her, and suddenly aware, Philippa cried out.
“No!”
“Aye, little one, ’tis time,” he said, and he mounted her quickly, pulling her resistant thighs apart and positioning himself for the attack. He had been ready almost from the moment he had entered their bedchamber. He was hard as rock, and he could feel his member throbbing with its eagerness to do battle. He began to move forward.
“No!” Philippa cried again. “No!”
He gently restrained her as his manhood pushed past her nether lips and into the entry of her love sheath. Despite her protests she was very wet with her budding desire. Slowly, slowly. His knob pushed into her, the ring of intimate flesh closing tightly about him as he moved his length forward, pressing deeper and deeper until he was met by the barrier of her maidenhood. He stopped.
“I cannot bear it,” she sobbed. “You are too big. You will tear me asunder!”
There was nothing he could say, he knew, that would soothe her. He must take her virginity quickly. He thrust hard, and the tiny shield of flesh gave way before him.
