Alys laughed and grasped his face with both palms, pulling his lips to hers for a firm kiss. “I love you, Piers,” she said when she pulled away.
“Not nearly as much as I love you,” he challenged.
She wrinkled her nose at him and began pulling him toward the double doors of the chamber. “Let us make provisions for your grandfather and Layla, and then we shall just see about that.”
The suite of rooms was grand, Alys had to admit, but unlike Piers, she was unintimidated by the plush setting. And so she was determined to waste little time in teaching him how to muss the bedclothes properly.
“Alys, do you want me?” Piers asked, his voice low and, Alys thought, somewhat unsure. “I mean, now. You’ve been through a trial and—”
“I do,” she interrupted him with the two words that had sealed their union before the king. She brought her fingertips to the clasp at her throat and undid her cloak, although she let it continue to hang on her shoulders. “I’ve wanted you since the night you came to me in the Foxe Ring.”
No sooner had the whisper escaped her lips than Piers claimed her mouth with his own. He wrapped his arms around her and half lifted her off the floor, as if trying to absorb her.
His mouth was slick and cool and wet, and she met his passionate need with one of her own every bit as fiery and demanding. Her fingers clawed at his belt, and Piers turned them both until Alys’s back was toward the bed. He let her down onto her feet and then brought his hands over hers, stilling them. She whimpered.
“I am unlearned in the manner of a lady’s clothing—it would be best for your gown should you remove it yourself.”
Alys glanced down at the perse gown which now held somany memories. And now it would mark her emergence into her life as a married woman. “You mean this old rag?”
Piers only smiled, and took a step back from her to give them both room to move. She undid her laces quickly, and when she was to slide her gown from her shoulders, she noticed him watching her. She paused, her face pinkened, and then she lifted her chin minutely.
Her eyes never leaving his, she pushed the left yoke of her gown away from her collarbone with her right hand, slowly, slowly, the fabric bunching and damming before it finally slid away. She caught the right side of her gown quickly before it could fall, and bringing her left arm across her chest, she slid her right arm free.
She paused, glanced down at his hands which had frozen in the action of removing his belt. “I’m a bit ahead of you already,” she said pointedly.
He was staring at her exposed skin above her gown. “I’m in no hurry,” he said hoarsely.
Her eyebrows rose briefly and one corner of her mouth lifted. “Very well.” She slowly, slowly brought her arms from her chest, and the gown slid away by its own sheer weight. In an instant, Alys stood naked before him.
“Alys,” he choked. “You are so beautiful.”
She smiled, feeling proud, powerful. Her eyes flicked to his chest. “Your tunic, milord.”
Piers’s hands started up the motion of undoing his belt once more. He dropped it to the floor with a dull clunk. His fingers found the ends to the intricate laces on his chest, and Alys was surprised at the ease with which he untangled them. Piers pulled the thick garment over his head, and she saw his nipples puckered in the cool air of the chamber. He glanced down at the erection deforming his hose, and then looked boldly to Alys once more.
Alys sat on the edge of the bed and raised each kneein turn, removing her feet from the circle of gown on the floor before taking off her shoes. Piers gasped when she lifted her heels and slid beneath the heavy coverlet, the motion parting her legs for a brief moment. He lifted one leg and put his foot on the edge of the bed frame, untying his own boot, then the other. Alys watched him openly, her cheek propped on one hand, the other holding the blanket to her chest.
Piers stepped out of his boots and then began to unfasten and remove the expensive woolen hose. He stood a moment at the side of the bed he was about to share with Alys, naked, shivering. She looked at his body boldly, his manhood, and then back up to his face where the pupils of his eyes seemed to have doubled in size. Alys herself felt heated and flushed and ready to be loved.
Piers gave her a moment of pause. “Alys, have you ever—”
“No,” she answered right away, saving him from asking fully. “Aren’t you the fortunate man? A pure, sweet virgin in your bed on your wedding morning.” Her smile grew with the daring and love she felt. “At least for the next few moments.” She held the blankets aside, an invitation.
Still, he hesitated. “Are you frightened?”
Her smile faded away. “I’ll never be frightened of anything ever again with you by my side.” She gestured with the blankets. “Come.”
He slid into the cocoon she offered, her slightly warmed skin feeling afire once pressed against his cold flesh. Her arms went around his neck and she pressed her breasts against him while her mouth sought his. Her nipples felt like hard little buttons, the hair between her legs whispered at his rock hard thigh as she drew her knee over his hip. His hands seemed to each span the width of her back and waist as he pulled her to him, pressed his hipsforward. She groaned at the feel of his rough skin on her flesh.
He skimmed his right hand down over her buttock and then reached beneath it with his fingers to find her, and when he touched her with a firm swipe, she mewed into his mouth. Piers rolled her onto her back and pulled away from her mouth.
“Take hold of the blanket,” he commanded. Then he slid beneath, backing carefully over her until his shoulders were between her legs. And then he tasted her.
Alys cried out, and she reached her hands down to find his head through the blanket. He nipped and licked and explored with his tongue until she was panting, and then he began to ready her with his finger.
“Piers,” she gasped. “Please.”
She was so close to achieving her own pinnacle, and she knew it even without ever having proper knowledge of it. He slid up her body once more, leaving his hand in place. When he was over her, her moist heat touching him, bucking against him, Piers arched his hips and used his hand to push the head of his penis into her. He left his hand between them, holding his weight on his other forearm, and continued to rub her with his thumb.
