She cried out softly as his lips touched her breasts. Although she would have thought it impossible, she seemed more sensitive to his touch. When he began to suckle with a gentle greed, she nearly grew frantic with the desire flowing through her. She was almost relieved when his kisses moved from there to caress her abdomen, then her thighs.
That sense of near calm, when she sought to gain some control over her passion, faded instantly when he kissed the bright curls that adorned her womanhood. She went still with shock, then tried to move away. Although she felt no qualms about caressing him so intimately, she was not sure it was a caress that was meant to be so fully returned, nor that she wanted it to be despite what her body was beginning to tell her. Her attempt to draw away was easily thwarted by Iain.
"Be still, dearling. Ye will like it as much as I do, I promise ye."
With a few strokes of his tongue he filled that promise. All resistance Islaen had felt fell away, passion smothering her modesty. She made no further attempt to elude the intimacy until she felt her desire about to crest. Even as she called his name he was over her, joining their bodies almost roughly. She clung to him with near desperation, as they sought and found passion's goal together.
Once her mind began to clear of desire's haze, Islaen no longer felt so sanguine about it. She was sorely embarrassed by the wantonness she had displayed. It was a little difficult to face him after he had caressed her so intimately. When he eased away from her, she tried to roll out of his reach but he laughed softly and pulled her close.
"Such modesty from a woman who has tasted every inch of me,” he murmured and kissed the top of her head when she pressed her face against his chest.
"Weel, that is different,” she mumbled and wondered if that sounded as foolish to him as it did to her.
"Nay and weel ye ken it.” He combed his fingers through her thick hair. “I thought on it this past fortnight."
"Thought on it?"
"Aye, thought on it often, wondering why I had been so slow to enjoy that pleasure with you. I was certain t'would be nectar and I was right. Ne'er have I tasted such sweetness,” he whispered, then laughed huskily when she groaned softly, clearly embarrassed by such direct talk. “Islaen?” he asked after a moment of companionable silence.
"Aye?"
"Were ye ready?” he asked hesitantly, thinking upon the swiftness with which he had bedded her.
'Was I ready?’ she mused incredulously. ‘Surely he can tell such things? How much more ready does he want me? I near to impaled myself upon him in my greed for him.’ Then she grimaced, suddenly realizing that he referred to the sponges she was supposed to be wearing and wondered idly what had prompted him to ask when he had not done so since their wedding night.
"Aye, I was ready soon after ye arrived,” she replied and felt his sigh of relief and was both angered and hurt by it.
It was an effort to keep her hand from drifting to her stomach. There now rested the cure for Iain's fears. She would present him with a healthy child and rise unharmed from her childbed. Islaen just prayed that God would grant her that.
