As Esme looked down at his pale blue eyes, she felt the warm flush of desire as his strong hands so securely held her.
"I trust you."
Cleav smiled. "Then you won't mind if I do this," he answered as he turned his head slightly and leaned forward to plant a gentle kiss on the mat of springy brown curls at the apex of her thighs.
"Oh!" Esme's startled exclamation momentarily captured his attention. "Can you do that?" she asked, plainly shocked at the idea.
"I can do it," he said. "If you want me to do it."
Esme's face was flaming bright red, which in itself was miraculous, because all the warmth and feeling in her body at that moment seemed completely concentrated in the damp, heated area where his lips had been.
"I ... I think it'd be all right, I guess," she stammered.
Not waiting for further invitation, Cleav bent his head forward to take that most intimate of kisses.
When his tongue touched the aching swollen nub hidden within her sensitive flesh, she cried out, half in astonishment, half in delight.
"What is it?" she asked him as her knees gave out completely, and he lowered her to the pallet beside him.
"It's pleasure," he told her as his hand clutched the hot, damp heaven that had felt his kisses. "Man-woman pleasure."
He moved to place light, teasing kisses on her breast and throat.
"It's supposed to hurt," she told him.
He feathered light, loving pecks across her eyes and the bridge of her nose.
"This is not the part that hurts," Cleav answered. "I'm going to try not to hurt you at all," he said. "But I want you so much. I'll try to be easy."
With that in mind Cleav began a gentle persuasion of sweet kisses and confident caresses meant to reassure rather than enflame. Esme reveled in his attention. As his hands explored her naked flesh, his teeth and tongue tutored her lips on pleasing them both.
Esme moaned low and lusciously from the depths of her throat and arched her back to offer herself. Cleav held her even closer as he wedged his thigh hard against her gentle parts.
Squirming enthusiastically against him, Esme whispered words of unintelligible encouragement as her head moved back and forth on the rose crepe de chine pallet.
Cleav unbuttoned his fine linen shirt, and Esme's hands eagerly sought to push it over his shoulders. When she finally had, she gasped with delighted surprise. She'd never imagined such a refined gentleman as Cleavis to have such a thick, silky mat of curly black hair on his chest. She ran her fingers through it until he finally stilled her hands.
"God, Esme, help me get these trousers off."
The eagerness in his voice spurred her to action. Her fingers deftly released the buttons at his fly and underdrawers. Eagerly she peeled the fabric from his hips.
The thick phallus that pressed at her belly was disconcerting. Esme avoided it by clutching the smooth muscular buttocks that she'd so admired earlier.
A strangled sound came from Cleav's throat, and he gritted his teeth harshly.
When Esme hesitated on her sweet exploration, he tried to reassure her.
"Oh, yes, sweetheart," he whispered hotly against her flesh. "I love your touch, but I can't wait much longer. I need to be inside you."
Tenderly caressing the paleness of her inner thighs, he spread them before him and raised himself in position to take her.
Now! Esme's mind screamed to her. Now he was going to make her a woman, his woman, for all time. Now she would know all that there was to know about the dark mystery of sex. Now she would have the blessed capacity of bearing his children. Now! Now!
"This is the part that hurts," Cleav warned her as he tried to ease himself inside her.
Esme's tiny cry came from her throat as Cleav pressed his way into the outer reaches of her womanhood.
"Are you all right?" he stopped to ask.
