She tried to kiss his mouth.
He evaded her.
She opened her eyes.
He waggled his eyebrows. “I, Lizzy, promise to take off every stitch I am wearing and let my husband enjoy feasting on the sight of his pretty bare wife. This I solemnly swear and may I be punished else.”
“Punished?” she squealed.
He let go of her wrists, abruptly.
She went for his trousers.
He had his hands inside her petticoats.
She gasped.
He stripped off whatever she was wearing, and she helped him, and then he stood back and did just exactly that. Feasted his gaze on her, looking her up and down and then up again and then down. And then lingering here and there, and the expression on his face made something turn over inside her core. He made a noise in the back of his throat, and he sounded nearly devastated. He reached out his palm to her.
She put her hand in his.
He pulled on her, leading her across the room and spreading her out before him on the bed, and then he treated her like she was a feast for the tasting. He put his mouth positively all over her, tracing her breasts and teasing the tips of her breasts quite taut, kissing the undersides of her breasts and her belly and herhip bones and her mound and then nuzzling between her thighs to lap at her.
She was assailed by the sweetness, as it went on and on.
More than once, she said she was ready, that she wished him to remove his trousers, as he had promised, and he put questing fingers against the center of her and said she wasnotready, not yet, that he needed to make entirely sure she was very, very slippery.
When he finally agreed, slipping his clothes off, and she saw that thick and hard member of his, she was struck again by the idea that this was absolutely impossible, that she could not, atall, have that in her.
She bit down on her lip, a flutter of nerves going through her.
“We don’t have to,” he said, noticing.
“Yes, we do,” she said.
“We could wait,” he said, bending to plant a kiss between her breasts. “We have been waiting, and this has been quite nice, and we can wait longer.”
“It will still be that size no matter how long we wait,” she said.
“Well, that’s all right. I don’t ever have to breach you, not once.” He kissed the tip of one of her breasts.
“Yes, you do.”
“No, no, you have a very clever mouth, as I already know, and—”
“You have to have children, Fitz, so I think—”
“Well, you remember all the business about insemination, so I think we shall find a way—”
She reached between their bodies and tucked the tip of him into her, and his words cut off in a sharp grunt.
She made noise, too. “Oh,” she said, eyes opening wide, wriggling her hips as she felt herself stretch around him.
“You know,” he was panting, “I have even now just told you that we do not have to do this. If it’s hurting you, give me but a moment, and I know that I can remove it. I’m positive I can. Just… one moment.”
She angled her hips to take more, and she could not say anything except, “Oh.” She slid herself up, getting him deeper, inch by inch, and she just kept saying it, “Oh, oh,oh.”
“It isn’t hurting you,” he managed in a guttural voice.
